Jean-Paul & Warren
Warren was still processing his grief. He wasn't sure what stage he had arrived at or was in the middle of, but he knew it wasn't over. There was still more to work through. If his father had a say in it, he'd be setting Warren up with a professional grief counselor and they'd meet every Tuesday for brunch. As it was, Warren didn't want an outsider involved. He was trying to understand how this could've even happened. Everything had been going so smoothly. They were making real progress. People were listening to them, the mutants, and hearing their voice and their peaceful message.
And it all ended in violence. Once again, mutants would be associated with violent acts, even if it wasn't them - that they knew of - who had orchestrated the assassination. Bitterness was a strange bedfellow for Warren Worthington. He knew there was good in everyone, that they just made bad choices, but this... It was inexcusable. Warren highly suspected the Brotherhood had a hand in it and the fact that members of that terrorist group had shown up to the funeral was rubbing Angel's feathers the wrong way.
It looked like Jean-Paul needed an out, though. Warren shrugged off his darker thoughts and moved over to where the speedster was comforting one of his students. It was a tender moment, but if Warren knew Jean-Paul, and he did, that suit was expensive and would need a cleaner when this was all said and done.
"I never took you for the mother hen type, Professor Beaubier," he teased gently as he moved up next to Jean-Paul. Warren's wings were out, bright white feathers creating an angelic presence that he was known form. It was something of a strange and potentially unnerving and/or comforting symbol at a funeral. An angel in their midst. If only he were a real angel and could reach beyond the grave to bring Charles back.