[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]

"I honestly think it depends on the kind of person you are." His voice lowers, although he doesn't bother to look around when he does so. He knows what to signs to look out for by now. "Psychologically, this set-up is very clever."

Of course, Charles comes from pre-1973, which means the term 'Stockholm syndrome' hasn't been coined yet.

"Most of the species in this city adapt to survive —probably why they're chosen. It's evolution in motion, really. The only difference is some see acceptance as the way to survive. And others decide compliant resistance to be a more agreeable, ulterior course of action, if you'll excuse the oxymoron."

And then, his voice gradually regains its normal tone. "It can get easier. There's nothing wrong with being comfortable while we're here. Just...be sure to keep yourself on your toes." That's a mild way of putting things, but then he can be very diplomatic. "Besides, there's a lot of good that can be done in the meantime."

[controlledvariable]

She listens to what Charles has to say and recategorizes him from 'harmless' to 'smart', but she approves anyway. It makes sense and Stockholm syndrome definitely comes to mind.

"I think compliant resistance sometimes forgets about the resistance part. Maybe I'm judging too harshly, but even if people here started out that way, it seems like they've gotten too caught up in pretending to accept their fate." She's met a few second and third generation citizens through work, and they all seem so complacent.

His comment about doing some good gives Steph a mental image of tracking down those militia agents and breaking their legs. It's a nice little fantasy. "Doing some good is always on my agenda."

[cerebral]

"It's a pleasure to meet you," he says, with a warm smile. Meeting other mutants is still comparatively rare for him, so this is nice. Slightly awkward, but nice.

"Ah, yes. Apparently we all seem to get around." Oh, you have no idea, Charles.

[cerebral]

"Of course you didn't," which isn't said half as wryly as is due. "Anyhow, I didn't mean to intrude, but it's incredibly rude to ignore someone you know in public, even if it is only in passing acquaintance."

And he lifts his takeaway cup in a little salute. See? He's harmless (sort of. To Kate, anyway).

[cerebral]

"Oh, um --sorry, no." And Charles puts out a hand to the other man, as if to assure him not to worry. "Just a stomach ache. A bad one."

He looks over with a troubled little smile. "The problem with working at a hospital is you're constantly around sick people." At least his ability to lie convincingly remains intact.

[cerebral]

Will has bumped into at least one person in this city who is not in the least bit perturbed by flight suits as out-and-about wear (because these things happen, okay). Although Charles' own snazzy yellow and blue number is tucked away somewhere in a Mafaton apartment.

"Oh, he arrived first. I came along a couple of months later." And because he doesn't want to rub his good fortune into anyone's face, that's followed by, "Apparently it's not too uncommon here."

8D

[hearditbothways]

Shawn recognizes the matching song right away. He perks up, both physically and mentally - the physical part an awkward pause in the middle of licking his fingers, the mental one a mixture of surprise and explanations - coincidence, statistical probability, that magic place where you suddenly know what your random iPod will play next.

He glances over at Charles and there it is again, a sudden rush of information that he seems to get off him, as if he's scanning his person for it.

[cerebral]

"I agree; it's a fine line. For my part, I can't begrudge anyone who wants to stay here. It's not perfect, but neither is my world. Xenians, for example. There's bigotry, but at least here people are allowed to openly live as such."

That is some careful dodging of pronouns there. Charles is still so used to having to hide what he is and, even amongst mutants or xenians, his abilities make people uncomfortable. He's not about to announce himself as different during incidental chit-chat.

Speaking of telepathy, that is a highly interesting fantasy, young lady. Charles raises an eyebrow, but doesn't say anything and only gives a little nod in reply.

i hope this is okay!

[cerebral]

Not only is Charles dressed like a young professional and carrying a smart satchel, there are some minor ink smudges on his fingertips from use of a fountain pen. His bag is weighed down, with the obvious shape of a novel pressing against the leather. There's a small drip stain on the collar of his white shirt --not dark enough to be coffee, so quite clearly tea-- and he smells of an old fashioned aftershave with sandalwood notes, something that men in, say, the sixties would wear rather than something modern and with a fashion designer's name attached to it. He's also forgotten to take off his hospital name tag, which, with the marked state of his hands, indicates his profession isn't medical, but probably isn't clerical.

And if Shawn is picking up on these details, and more, it is very strange to hear them over the hustle and bustle of the people passing by. Charles stops. Good God, this is exactly the kind of slip-ups he ends up warning Raven about, and he silently curses himself.

Of course, to make it seem as though there is a tangible reason behind his mid-walk pause, he stops and crouches down to untie and retie a shoelace, as if it were coming undone.

:o no, this is AWESOME!

[hearditbothways]

He is. They're noted, sorted, regarded intently. And it throws another concept into the mix, binding them all together.

Curiosity.

Shawn swallows down the rest of his sandwich and idly strolls over, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Painful, isn't it," he announces cheerfully. "I was all over Velcro back in the day myself. When it was socially acceptable."

feel free to pick up anything in his head, if wanted! there's also giant robots & a fluffy white dog

[charismatic]

“Oh,” Will says. He hadn't considered that, and he's not sure how to feel about it. Actually, no. Remembering the broadcast from last week, he knows he doesn't want any of them to end up here, even the ones he knows would adapt the best. He shakes himself out of it and offers a smile. “Well, he must be lucky to have you.”

[studious_snake]

"Oh. Okay." He paused for a moment, then added, "You should probably rest or something so you don't spread whatever you have."

Because he didn't particularly want a bad stomach ache himself. Of course, he wasn't entirely sure how well diseases spread from human to naga, but he didn't really want to test it, either.

:D

[leviohhhhsa]

She is, of course, incredibly nosy and is careful to note the headlines of the articles as well as the name of the book before he offers the pen. He might catch a suggestion of interest and curiosity, more in the articles than the novel- though she certainly approves of anyone who carries books around just in case. "Of course," she agrees, smiling up at him and taking the pen. "Or things might be too easy for you. Thank you."

She starts writing in a neat, legible hand- though her shorthand is somewhat less clear. PC- transf. ∴ follows GL, LoT; more a form of incomplete human transf. or conj.? And so on in that vein for a few lines. Oddly, however, once she's written a few words, they start sinking into the paper and vanishing. They're visible to her, but no one else. The notebook's enchanted. You learn these things after you spend seven years (not consecutive) trying to stop people copying your homework- and rather a lot of your life keeping secrets and getting involved in serious, often dangerous things.

She finishes off and hands him back the pen, smiling gratefully. "Thanks." It's genuine; there's nothing more dreadful than being caught without a writing implement at times like these, she finds. Her eyes slip towards the articles again, curiosity returning.

[magnetic]

"It's not bad, is it?" He rubs the back of one gloved thumb against his cheekbone as he answers, curing an itch, or removing some tickly wood dust, or something the like. "This is the only work left to be done." That same hand raps on the window frame to indicate the ongoing replacement, and then he stands up tall, moving back and into the house.

Predictably, the front door opens a moment later. He's not dressed for construction, but for his usual deputy rounds—still on call, of course, despite having arranged for some time off the beat this afternoon—including that one black hat of his. (He really enjoys that hat, okay.) "Come, have a look."

[cerebral]

"Yes, of course." And he's at the doorway a second later, making his way past Erik to look around the hallway. He's still smiling, albeit milder, and with some concentration as he takes in the details.

Then something occurs to him, and he turns back to Erik, "But I don't understand —what about your old place?"

[magnetic]

Erik really enjoys little moments like these, however mundane the situation; for someone with significant control issues, it's nice to be asked by the resident telepath. It's not that he doesn't trust Charles—as much as he can trust anyone—but he cannot forget the man's abilities, no matter how comfortable they may become with each other's company.
(In any case, it's nice to surprise a person now and then, telepath or otherwise.)

"I've taken care of it." Funny how he can make subletting sound like a mob hit. "Go on, go look—there's a sun room in the back. And you'll want to see the second floor." The not-quite-an-attic, he means, accessible by a narrow staircase that doubles back halfway up on account of the limited space.

[controlledvariable]

"I've noticed that," it confuses her a little, "Xenians is a broad category, usually it gets more specific in my world, and... people are judged on their actions, not what they look like or what they can do."

It's not entirely true, there is some distrust of meta humans and aliens, but there's also people like Kory, Diana, and the Martian Manhunter, who are accepted for what they are: not human, but still good people. And on the other hand there are people like Killer Croc, who may be hunted because of how he looks, but mostly he's hunted because he eats people.

At least she wasn't fantasing about killing them? Although it's entirely possible if it came to an actual confrontation, Steph would conveniently forget that Bats aren't supposed to kill.

[phreak]

The box isn't heavy, so much as it's an unwieldy but necessary way to carry her supplies. Unless he's already made himself familiar with the ubiquitous solar paneling in the city, Charles probably won't recognize all the bits and pieces she's gathered up.

"Good to meetcha, Charles. I'm Alter."

[andyoullmissit]

She smiles a little. "Right. Some more than others. It's a little - okay, it's really weird, meeting alternates of people I knew, but I guess it's better than no familiar faces at all."

[supersonic]

Pietro being, well, himself, he is always rather easily ruffled, and so upon hearing the person behind him start into laughter, he does in fact consider the possibility it may be about him. He turns his head just a titch, raising an eyebrow. (He'll never quite have his father's presence, but there is a certain sharp-edged poise that may ring familiar.)

"Is something funny?"

[cerebral]

Fortunately, Erik's presence doesn't illicit the usual response from Charles as it does with other people. Although there is something unnervingly familiar in those mannerisms that he responds to with a customary coolness of his own.

"Hm? Oh, I recalled something from earlier on in the day." And not unlike the smart little quips he usually delivers when being addressed thusly, "Why, what do you do when you're bored waiting in line?" Except he knows perfectly well.

[cerebral]

Then they're well suited in their nosiness, especially since Charles notably tilts his head to watch the disappearing ink.

As he starts to shuffle things back into his satchel, his words tumble quickly after Hermione's thanks, "That is absolutely incredible, if you don't mind my saying so." His gaze flicks up from the notebook to catch her eye, and his smile is open-mouthed, as if it could become a delighted laugh at any minute.

Which gives way to a faux-bashfulness --he's not about to apologise for finding magic, well, magical, but he's aware it's probably an every day sort of thing for the strange woman in front of him. "Forgive me, my latest reading has included various forms of magic, or thaumaturgy as I believe it's also called? But I've never had a chance to see it up close and personal. Only in the various goings-on in the city." Then, another explanation, because he's noticed her noticing his papers, "I'm a geneticist primarily working at the Glory Shada as a counselor for people and families with mixed lineage, so I'm having to traverse realms of knowledge I'd never even considered possible before."

[cerebral]

It's not something he's mentioned, but Charles has in fact been trying his best to keep out of Erik's head more than usual (even if it is apparently so gosh darn comfy). They're living together, they spend a lot of their free time together --even the resident telepath realises a man needs his privacy, and so Erik has been granted an amnesty that's similar to Raven's.

Unless, of course, he becomes particularly worried about his friend. But that hasn't happened. So far.

(And look what happens when you do, Charles? Nice things. Speaking of control issues).

He gives a last grin to Erik before going off to look, which takes a good fifteen minutes or so, and even then he hasn't reveled as much as he wants to. Once he comes back, he says, "I stand by my original assessment."

[magnetic]

"Good, because I've already signed the lease," he says, perhaps somewhat cheekily, and then calls into the adjacent room, "Back in a moment, gentlemen." There's no response, but Erik doesn't care. Those two gents are cordially invited to suck it, honestly—their distaste for his (their) mere existence is nothing new in his world, and he's not about to let the same old hypocrisy tarnish his mood.
They'll change their minds soon enough, anyway.

"The offer was not going to last, so I leapt on it while I could. Shall we?" Walk, he means, to get away from the likelihood of eavesdropping.

[joiedeviolet]

Well, hi then." Kate raises her hand in a return salute, still looking like she's been caught redhanded. Man, even if Charles couldn't read minds, her face tells everybody whats she's been doing.

"I was just reading..." She glances down at the book because she doesn't even remember which one she picked up. "...About the history of Italy." Yeah, sure.