Jean thought about trying to sit up straight, but in the end decided it was fine to slump her shoulders and look like a dying animal as she tried to recover from the burning in her lungs. Thankfully the brief face wash had cleared the sweat off her forehead, and what remained could just be chalked up to lingering fountain water. Yeah, the pressure to always be the pretty X-Man was a dumb, dirty trap. Jean couldn't decide if it was easier or harder around strangers.
"Uh, it's...complicated?" Jean answered his question with a tone of uncertainty. "Technically I'm from before Carol's time. The first I heard of her is when I time traveled to the twenty-first century. But, really, no. She's a mutate and I'm a mutant. Mutates are empowered through exposure to some kind of external force, and mutants are a different evolutionary species of humans. So, I guess really we're not related at all."
Reaching on either side of her, Jean gripped the lips the fountain and felt the rough stone beneath her fingers. She'd heard his self-deprecation, his thoughts that made value judgments on himself and how he was spending his time.
"I think you're worrying too much. I don't think any of us are really doing anything 'useful'. We're all just passing the time and trying to survive or make things comfortable until we can, ya know, go home. If you want to do something, do it, but I don't think anyone thinks any less of you for using this opportunity to rest, Tony."