He'd forgotten she didn't know where he'd been shot that day. Maybe X would know, since Legs had told him she was the one who'd said anything about it. He didn't have the clearest memories about everything that had happened, the whole almost dying thing, plus the passage of time, had assured that was the case.
Bringing around the hand he'd had against her hair, he placed it over his jacket approximately where the scar was. "Here". He didn't like to think what her reaction might be. It was sort of obvious how bad it had been. Not that that mattered now. He was fine, physically. Jeanne had ensured he carried plenty of scars on his heart.