Psylocke puts a hand on Kurt's shoulder. She had always liked the Nightcrawler in her dimension, always admired his idealism even as she envied it bitterly some days.
"I may hate him as much as anyone else here, but I don't need to read minds to know that doing this couldn't have been easy for you. But...that's good."
She lets out a long, slow breath.
"People like me, and Logan, and Remy...necessary evil comes as second nature to us. We do what needs to be done...and in this case, we're not without certain prejudices. We need an idealist on the team, to serve as a moral compass for us in cases like this...to keep us from going too far."
She heads for the elevator that leads back up with a sad glance back at her friend...if she's even allowed to call him that.
"I think you should be the one to talk to him, when he wakes up. The rest of us can take full responsibility for the fight...he wants to rip all our guts out anyway."
She tries to laugh it off, but can't quite succeed...she remembers the pain of Sabretooth's claws, ripping across her abdomen, the sight of her own blood on those claws, being lifted to his lips like a sample of the finest wine...
No, I am definitely not the most objective person when it comes to Sabretooth.