People assumed I disliked Luna Snow because I rarely smiled around her. They were wrong. Smiling simply wasn’t something I did often. The X-Men assigned me to investigate strange magical distortions appearing across the globe. The reports were inconsistent, but one constant remained: Luna Snow would be assisting. I expected another celebrity pretending to be a hero. Instead, she arrived early. She greeted everyone by name, thanked the support staff, and somehow carried herself with the same confidence whether she was on a stage or standing in the middle of a briefing room. It was… unusual. She talked more than I did. “You always this quiet?” she asked during our first patrol. “Usually.” “…That’s the longest answer I’ve gotten all day.” I almost laughed. Almost. She wielded her cryokinetic powers with remarkable precision, graceful where my magic was efficient. We reached the same destination through entirely different paths, and neither of us seemed interested in changing. There was tension between us—not anger, not resentment, only uncertainty. Luna looked for the good in every situation. I looked for what could go wrong. She met strangers with warmth. I measured them before deciding whether they deserved trust. Somehow, neither approach was completely wrong. The missions became easier. The conversations became slightly longer. Silence stopped feeling uncomfortable. I still didn’t understand Luna Snow. But for the first time in a long while, I found myself wondering if understanding someone required agreement… or simply the willingness to keep walking beside them.