Silver Superman (Marvel)

"Lick the dog?"

Jean Grey blinked, clearly confused by the unfamiliar phrase.

Ethan chuckled and took another sip of his drink before explaining.

After hearing the meaning, Jean's brows furrowed in immediate protest.

"Mr. Ethan, please don't speak that way about Professor Xavier," she said firmly.

"He's a great man—someone who's dedicated his life to securing a future for Mutants."

"I don't deny that," Ethan replied casually, swirling the remaining liquid in his glass.

"To a certain extent, Professor X is indeed a respectable man… But that doesn't change the fact that, in the end, he's still acting like a 'licking dog.'"

Jean's expression hardened.

Her respect for Charles Xavier was absolute—he'd been a mentor, a leader, and a guiding light for her since she was a child. If anyone else had spoken about him like that, she would've lashed out without hesitation.

But for some reason, she didn't.

Maybe it was something about Ethan—his presence, his words, or the strange sense of calm she felt around him.

Whatever the reason, she found herself standing there, fists clenched at her sides but holding back her anger.

The sight of Jean standing so abruptly didn't go unnoticed.

Whispers spread through the ballroom like wildfire, and several guests instinctively took a step back as if expecting her to lash out at any moment.

"Look! Ethan must've said something to make that Mutant angry!"

"God… Should we call the police?"

"The police? What can they do against a Mutant?"

Hearing those whispers, Jean's anger flared even hotter.

So just because I'm a Mutant, I'm not even allowed to get angry?

Before she could react, a gentle warmth enveloped her wrist.

Jean looked down and saw Ethan's hand resting lightly against hers.

His touch wasn't forceful—just enough to ground her.

"It's alright. Sit down," Ethan said calmly.

"Most people here aren't used to seeing an angry Mutant. They've got… let's call it Mutant PTSD."

Jean exhaled slowly, the tension in her shoulders gradually easing.

"Mr. Ethan, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause a scene."

"It's fine," Ethan replied with a reassuring smile. "Have a seat."

Meanwhile, Pepper Potts sensed the shift in atmosphere from across the room.

Quickly stepping onto the stage, she tapped the microphone to capture the crowd's attention.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let's move on to the second stage of tonight's event!"

"Tonight, we're honored to have…"

As Pepper seamlessly shifted the focus, conversations resumed, and many of the guests turned their attention back to the stage.

"Let's go somewhere quieter," Ethan suggested, rising from his seat.

"This whole place is starting to feel a bit too… corporate."

Jean hesitated for a moment before picking up her glass and following him.

Why am I following him?

Wasn't I just mad at him?

And yet, she found herself trailing after Ethan as he led her through a side door onto a small balcony overlooking the city.

The cool night air swept over them as Ethan shut the balcony door, muffling the sounds of the party inside.

Jean leaned against the railing, taking a slow breath as the breeze seemed to clear her thoughts.

"…So why do you think Professor Xavier is a…" Jean paused, then looked at Ethan.

"…'Licking dog?'"

Ethan chuckled softly.

"Because he is, isn't he?"

Jean's eyes narrowed, but Ethan continued before she could object.

"Look, I respect what he's trying to do—fighting to give Mutants a place in society. But he's going about it the wrong way."

"Take a look at those people inside."

Jean turned, her gaze drifting through the glass doors to the ballroom beyond.

The moment she and Ethan had stepped outside, the atmosphere inside had noticeably brightened.

Laughter flowed more freely, conversations resumed without hesitation—it was as if her absence had lifted some invisible weight from the room.

"Professor X's biggest mistake," Ethan said, "is offering goodwill to people who don't deserve it. And when you constantly humble yourself in front of people who look down on you, that's not diplomacy—that's licking their boots."

Jean's grip on the railing tightened.

"He believes that by showing them we mean no harm, we can earn their acceptance—"

"Acceptance?" Ethan scoffed.

"Look at them, Jean. Do they look like they're about to accept anyone? The more you lower yourself, the more superior they feel. It's not about humans versus Mutants—that's just human nature."

Jean's lips parted, but no words came out.

"There's an old saying where I come from," Ethan added, tilting his glass.

"'A licking dog will get nothing in the end.'"

Jean stared at him, her thoughts spinning as if trying to piece together a puzzle she hadn't even known existed.

Everything Ethan said contradicted what she'd been taught at Xavier's School.

Professor X's philosophy was clear: lead by example, show humanity that Mutants could coexist peacefully, and eventually, acceptance would follow.

But…

Has that approach ever really worked?

How long have we been waiting for acceptance that never comes?

Why does it feel like things only get worse?

"Mr. Ethan… Then what should we do instead?"

Ethan set down his glass and stretched his arms with a yawn.

"Ah… I think I've had a bit too much to drink," he said with a chuckle.

"Miss Jean Grey, let's just call this a little drunken conversation. Don't overthink it."

"And besides, Professor Xavier has his reasons. Maybe he's playing the long game, and we just can't see the full picture yet."

Before Jean could reply, Ethan pushed open the balcony door and stepped back inside, vanishing into the crowd.

"Wait—Mr. Ethan!"

Jean moved to follow him, but a familiar voice echoed in the back of her mind.

"Jean, how did the event go?"

"I sensed your emotions fluctuating—are you alright?"

Jean paused, recognizing the voice instantly.

"Professor… I'm fine," she replied telepathically.

"Good. Tonight was just about showing your face—letting them see that we're not like Magneto. That's all we needed."

Jean's gaze returned to the ballroom, her thoughts swirling.

"Just show my face," she repeated inwardly.

But all she could remember was the way those people had looked at her—as if her presence alone was something to be feared.

Is this really working?

Was Ethan right?

Was all their goodwill just wasted effort?

Are we really just… licking dogs?

"Jean, what's wrong?"

"I… It's nothing, Professor."

"I had a bit too much to drink… I'm just feeling a little dizzy."

Far away at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, Professor Charles Xavier leaned back in his wheelchair, smiling faintly.

"That's good. It sounds like tonight went well after all. At least you made a connection with someone willing to talk to you."

Jean exhaled softly, her eyes drifting back toward the city skyline.

But when she glanced back inside the ballroom…

Ethan was gone.

"Professor, I'm heading back now," Jean said through their telepathic link.

Without returning to the ballroom, Jean stepped onto the edge of the balcony and, with a graceful leap, vanished into the night.

Meanwhile…

Across the city, Gwen Stacy was in her room—standing upside down on the ceiling.

Her wide eyes stared at her hands as she clung effortlessly to the surface.

"Oh my GOD!" she whispered, her voice a mixture of shock and excitement.

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