Running was good for clearing the head. That's what people said, at least. And when you're a telepath, your head is never clear so the prospect of any kind of relief from the constant voices was worth chasing. Just for the stillness, for the quiet. They said that once you hit that runner's high, your head cleared and nothing else mattered but the road ahead. Yeah, for Jean Grey, that was worth chasing.
And so, she'd laced up her high tops (which, not the best shoes for running but she'd have to make do) and put on her X-Men suit. It was designed to wick moisture and stabilize body temperature, so it was better than any of the clothes she had managed to scrounge up thus far. The 90s style windbreaker was tied around her waist and her shorter hair was tied back to keep it out of her face as she ran. It didn't matter to her where she went, though she started head out toward the trees and the pond because it made sense that would mean less people.
A bird made of fire. A planet being completely drained of life. Metal claws ripping her guts out. Those were the kinds of thoughts that Jean was trying to escape. Except they weren't just thoughts, abstract and shapeless. They were also memories.
Her feet carried Jean around the pond and off into the outskirts of town. By the time she made it back into town, Jean was winded. She stopped to catch her breath, three miles in? Her hands were on her thighs, torso slightly bent forward, and panting. She felt like she could taste iron on her tongue. The voice called out to her, but it was the thoughts that followed that really stuck out.
Sorry, man, I'm not your friend.
"No worries," she said instead, lifting her torso and straightening up. She put on a nice smile. "A lot of people mistake me for someone else, haha. Tony, right? The other one. Or is he the other one?"