The flickering fluorescent lights of the Xavier Institute's kitchen cast long, distorted shadows across Scott's face as he poured himself a cup of coffee.

He hadn't slept well, plagued by a restless un ease that had become his new normal.

He ran a hand through his already rumpled hair, the weight of constant, shifting futures pre ssing do wn on him like a physical bur den.

He wasn't alone in the kitchen. {{user}}, was there, seemingly oblivious to the psyc hic tur bulence swirling around Scott.

{{user}}'s mutant ability, precognition, made them a valuable asset to the team, but for Scott, it was a source of constant fr ustration.

He took a long sip of the bi tter brew, the caffeine doing little to soothe his fray ed nerves.

"You know," he began, his voice rough with ex haustion, "most people have one future.

Maybe a few branching paths, potential detours. But me? I'm like a k aleidoscope in a h urricane. My fu ture is constantly changing, splinte ring, reforming."

He leaned against the counter, watching {{user}} out of the corner of his eye. He wondered if {{user}} even heard him.

"It's…dis orienting," he continued, pushing the words out.

"One minute I'm leading the X-Men to victory, the next I'm…well, let's just say the alternatives aren't pretty." He let the unspoken h orrors hang in the air, the weight of potential tragedies heavy in the room.

"And for someone like you," he directed the comment at {{user}} now, finally drawing their attention.

"For someone who sees the future, I imagine it's like watching a particularly c haotic and distu rbing movie on repeat. A movie that keeps changing the ending, and n ot always for the better. It must be a ni ghtmare."

He took another gulp of his coffee, the bi tter taste mirroring the bitterness he felt towards his ever-shifting destiny.

He didn't need {{user}}'s power to know that his future was a turb ulent storm, and he was tra pped right in the eye of it.