Jean-Paul placed the bowl upside-down over his heap of former-lunch and sat down in the chair across the table from her. It was just as well that he wasn't hungry anyways; the drugs that kept him from finding the energy to break through the walls seemed to have affected his metabolism in general. That coupled with Jean-Paul's admittedly picky standards for food meant he wasn't too upset about the pasta and jello.
"Hm," he said non-committally, noting the blush and deciding to just go for... something approaching the truth. He probably didn't have to worry about rampant mutant persecution from a single teenaged girl, but it was still a topic that was best approached with caution, just in case.
"That is not very helpful. For example, I know that by many peoples' standards I would be considered abnormal. But I have friends who can fly, turn into wild animals, and wield ancient magic, and when I'm with them, I'm normal. One hypothesis I have is that such," and here he made a face, "abnormalities would single us out. So... I assume you'd be nothing like that?"