"Avengers don't really know about mutants," Tommy dismisses. They had two mutants on their team, but they're long gone. Scarlet Witch and Quicksilver. Their possible soul-relatives.

"Hey, if anything, your stuff will be a big baggy," he says after a moment, setting the rabbit aside and standing to... Well, he doesn't seem like he knows what to do with what he's wearing. At last he mumbles something under his breath and the clothes seem to fizzle away, leaving him in the white scrubs and slippers from the juvie facility. And then he's stripping those off.

Which probably doesn't look good. He's thin, probably too thin, his ribs just faintly visible at his sides. And there are scars dotting his chest and stomach and back, places adults will hit and hurt when they know the marks can't be seen by other people. But at his arms there are needle marks from experiments, and there are a few burns on the skin of his hands, no doubt electrical in origin. Thing is, without a speedster's accelerated healing he hadn't been doing well. The only mark that seems natural is a small birthmark of slightly darker skin right by his hip, one that sort of looks like a thumbprint made out of barely darker skin, a shadow of a touch.

"They're... nice. Intense, but nice."