[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

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.

: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.

[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."