[OPEN]

[cerebral]

Who: Charles Xavier & you.
What: Open post. Feel free to throw your characters at him.
Where: Mog Hill & Mafaton or somewhere in the central area of the city that your character is likely to bump into him.
When: Veerdi afternoon and evening.
Notes: None.
Warnings:  None.

With no afternoon appointments and no one needing his immediate help at the Glory Shada (he is a counselor, after all, and they tend to keep more regular hours), Charles decides to slip away from work early in order to window shop around the city. It's mostly to look at furniture and other essential household items, although bookshops and strange trinkets inevitably end up catching his eye. Every so often he can be seen in shops, snapping pictures on his CiD, enquiring after prices and how long someone will be able to keep a reservation. Occasionally he'll wander into a cafe for coffee or tea on the go, more to warm up on a chilly Ruundary than anything else.

While walking, he lets his mind idle around, picking up and sifting through passing thoughts as he goes. Despite some friendly warnings to be cautious and his own recent encounters with the unforeseen forces of Baedal, he really can't help himself at times.

Comments

[cerebral]

That sounds...kind of odd, to someone from the sixties. Charles puts it down to a culture gap, focuses on the bits he does understand and infers the rest through telepathy (technological advancements in the next forty years are astounding).

"Oh --" he gives a little nod of thanks and takes a seat, placing his bag to the side. Although he doesn't take off his coat or anything, which is a sign that he doesn't intend to take up too much of her time.

"One whole month. I can hardly believe it. I've met a few people used to these situations but I can't say I'm one of them."

[cerebral]

That wasn't the reaction he was looking for, and he doesn't need to take a peek at her mind to realise what's going on.

"Oh, you mean --that's not me. I mean, that was me, but not...me. Aha." He gives a smile that tries to be charming more than embarrassed. "I think the word I'm looking for is 'alternate'?"

Charles, fortunately or unfortunately, hasn't quite grasped the full extent of what the future holds for him. Although he's becoming more and more curious, despite his initial worrying over whether or not he should try and find out.

[cerebral]

(Not unless you want to add buckets to your accessories, no.)

"I'm keeping my promise," he says mildly (accidental empathy aside). "Not that I read your mind to find that out, but I can tell by now. Psychology. And," he says with a conceding head tilt, "I recognise that look pretty well by now."

It's followed by a little shrug, as if the odd, panicked look that the few people he's close to give him is no big deal. Because it isn't, honest.

[cerebral]

Well, that was about the reaction he expected, but he's unsure about where the line is with 'buying things straight off' and 'asking for opinions first.'

Good. We need something to eat the take-away from other than the box.

Later, in another shop, there's a text of:

Actually, this is better.

Then:

No, we have a winner.

[joiedeviolet]

"I didn't do anything." It should be a lot easier to lie to a mindreader. Of course, lying to Professor X should feel like lying to your oldest favorite aunt who is on her deathbed and can go at any minute... no, not really, but it should feel pretty bad.

Kate is pretty terrible at outright lying anyway. She does a lot better with simple omission of facts, but regular lying shows right on her face. Those red cheeks aren't just there for decoration.

[magnetic]

I will not drink coffee from a chemistry set.

Telepathy may, in fact, be required to detect the humour in this reply.

[cerebral]

Spoilsport.

How about this? It would keep coffee warmer for longer and you wouldn't have to worry about burning your hands.

[cerebral]

"You took the offer out of my mouth," he says with a smile, and shifts his satchel onto his shoulder by the longer strap. He motions with open arms for her to lay the box on him. "Charles, by the way. Although I can't say I mind strapping as an alternative."

[magnetic]

The handle is a karabiner.

Why.

Are you going to send a picture of every object you happen to look at?

[cerebral]

To clip onto things.

Obviously.

Well now that you mentioned it.

All right, I'll stop. You're no doubt busy. Give the tank a pat for me.

[magnetic]

She sends her love.

This is probably funny; the Shuck doesn't love anyone. She is grudgingly fond of Erik, though, and becoming more so as he learns to soothe her various aches by way of his gift—she hasn't tried to bite him in several days now. (A nip while his back is turned doesn't count.)

How does your schedule look this aft?

[controlledvariable]

"I've heard of things like this," She'd been in Africa when all the shit with those multiverse people went down, the sky had gone all these strange colors and she read about Conner's funeral in one of the local newspapers, "But it was a little different to this, more end-of-the-world kinda deal."

"Does it get easier, being here, I mean?" She wants to know even if she's not sure what answer she wants, because getting used to it means becoming complacent. Steph wonders if after a while, people just stop trying to get home.

[cerebral]

I'm sure.

Charles is aware of the extent of that horse's affections towards him.

I spent the past half hour sending you pictures of tableware. You tell me.

[magnetic]

Fair enough.

Come to this location when you can—I will be there all afternoon.

[Mafaton address attached]

[cerebral]

Charles' dish set of choice is one of the less pricier sets on display (also not what he'd consider best china, but...his upbringing) and he makes a mental note to come back later in the week.

"No, definitely not. Furniture seems to be the most expensive to come by so it's best to keep a look out and snap things up quick." He slowly circles the table as he talks, fingers drifting over some of the other bric-a-brac, before casting a glance at the other man. "You're new, too?"

[cerebral]

Will do.

Sooner to his showing up, another text appears:

Do you want me to get you a coffee or something while I'm still out?

[cerebral]

The image of an incredibly large snake devouring another, much smaller snake was not something Charles was prepared for; a cautionary tale for any telepath in Mafaton. From behind Jay, there is a small noise and, if he turns around, he'll see a smartly dressed gent wincing and blinking several times for a minute.

Not that he's judgmental --perhaps there are things Charles eats that Jay would find unsavoury.

bring it B)

[cerebral]

All minds are unique, but some are certainly more unique than others. Shawn's is quite fascinating to Charles and he can't help but get momentarily distracted by the various goings-on that are flying around in the other man's head.

So much so that, when walking past him, he absently starts humming the tune of whatever that 80's song is. It's obviously something he's never heard before, but whatever it is, it's catchy.

[charismatic]

“I am,” Will says, with an illustrative little wave. “Newly employed, too,” he adds, gesturing at his outfit. Well, that's probably a little misleading, actually. He showed up in this. He tilts his head, still curious about the mechanics of the place. “How'd you end up here with a friend?”

[cerebral]

Charles is similarly bored waiting in line, which of course means utilizing his own mutant powers to keep himself amused (with great powers comes great responsibility, etc, etc). Pietro stands out for two reasons: Charles can tell that he's a mutant, but the sound of War and Peace whizzing by in an Alvin-esque voice is hilarious if sort of dizzying, and he lets out a small chuckle of laughter before giving up the game entirely.

Of course, he's standing directly behind Pietro when that happens. Naturally.

nope. ten points to gryffindor!

[cerebral]

"Oh, certainly." The takeaway cup is popped down on her table with a gracious smile, while Charles rifles through his satchel. As he does so, he picks up on a smattering of the details floating around in Hermione's mind --and what he really hones in on is the mentions of magic, because he's been trying to come to terms with some of the finer points of thaumaturgy lately. It's only right to make sure he has a decent knowledge about the many variants of people in the city as possible, given the nature of his work.

A few photocopies of articles on xenian genetics, a worn second-hand copy of The English Patient (because what fun is timelines crossing if you can't get some new reading material?) and a moleskin diary are set beside his cup before he finally comes across what he was looking for. "Of course, it always ends up right at the bottom," he says, passing a capped fountain pen over to her.

[magnetic]

No, thank you. A visit will suffice.

How mysterious!

Provided the cosmic timing of things is just right, when Charles arrives at the indicated address—it's a house, not without neighbours, but far less cramped than many other properties—he should see Erik through one of the now glassless windows, pulling away old material in preparation for new frames. There are two others in the house with him—workmen, hired by the property owner, and conversationally reticent by choice on account of they aren't in love with this particular job.
Neither of them resembles a human so closely as does Erik, you see. They tolerate his company this afternoon because of the pay. He could merely hang around and supervise, but figures (correctly) that this would only increase the men's animosity... and so.

During Charles' approach, Erik plants both gloved hands on the empty sill and leans there to observe his expression from this temporary distance, slightly out of breath.

[andyoullmissit]

"Oh - sure. Okay." She only met him once before, and briefly - it's not as if she knows him from home by anything other than towering reputation. But she nods, and says, "I'm Clarice Ferguson. We, um... I was going to say we have mutual acquaintances, but your acquaintances are all probably alternates of mine."

[studious_snake]

Jay quickly turned to see what the problem was, but when he looked, it seemed like the man was wincing over nothing. He glanced around quickly to see if there was something the man had seen that he'd missed, but he certainly didn't see anything that would have elicited such a reaction. It didn't occur to him that he could have done anything to cause it, of course, because he'd just been looking in a pet store window, and as far as he was aware he hadn't done anything to indicate that he was thinking of eating animals that may or may not be sold in such a place.

"What?"

The fastest way to figure out what was the matter, after all, was to ask.

[cerebral]

The stars have crossed correctly and Erik will no doubt see Charles coming up the road at his usual stride. He's cosily wrapped up against the chill (apart from inevitable pink cheeks) and looking a little brighter than he usually does after most work days due to his enjoyable meandering around.

For once, he hadn't bothered to scout out ahead with telepathy, so when he sees the house and the familiar figure at the window there's a tiny crease in thoughtful expression before his face lights up into a broad smile. It may even be possible to hear a small chuckle of laughter as makes his way to the window.

He's still craning his head back to look, when he says, "This is marvelous."