"Not as easily as I can, Billy. Not even remotely as easily," Tommy answered. Because the axe takes time, and force. But Tommy can do it by just forgetting how fast he's moving. By letting his explosions get away from him. By losing control.

"I AM a freak, Billy. Not a supposed freak. A fucking freak. I blew up my high school. Someone fucking DIED! I have to be perfect all the time or people get hurt. Or people look at people like me and villainize us. Mutants always have to be perfect or we're hurting each other!"

This time the word isn't being held against Billy. But only because Tommy's already feeling it. Already thinking it. Already labeling himself with it.