... Well, at least she knows it's a danger. That's a good sign. X allows himself a second of amusement, wondering how he manages to keep surrounding himself with -- with opinionated people who wouldn't be out of place in a mercenary regiment. Then he takes the piece of her skirt, wraps it around the lower half of his face, and ties it back behind him.

Up is a good idea. X leads the way, testing the stairs one step at a time. All he hears from upstairs is the telltale crackle of flames. "You?" he asks over his shoulder, voice muffled by the cloth. "Got a name?"