[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

[magnetic]

Officially, this one is a forerunner in the ranking of messages Erik did not expect to receive today. Or ever, probably.

Looks fine.

...Yes, that is the sum total of his input. (Look, his priorities do not usually include place settings, what do you want from him.)

[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.

[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.

[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?

[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]

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?

[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.

[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."

[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.

[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.

[cerebral]

Charles casts an eye to the other room and, yes, those 'gentlemen' are not thinking the most polite thoughts right now. Lovely.

He turns back to Erik with a decisive little nod. "Let's."

[magnetic]

Down those few front steps they shall go, then—there's a porch out front, you see—the whole thing is so bloody charming it'll make you sick—and off down the street at a leisurely pace. Yes, Erik keeps in mind that his legs are about a hundred miles longer than his friend's are. No, it does not bother him in the least. He's happy to have a break from those two, frankly.

"I thought I'd take the main floor bedroom." Because of its strategic position, no doubt, and the fact that it is not so enclosed as that wizard's-tower type thing the second bedroom has going on.

[cerebral]

"I was hoping you'd say that." After all, the space is bigger and Charles is going to need a desk to work at. But mostly because it's one of those previously mentioned charming features that he's already beginning to really like about the place.

In fact, he feels remakably content about the entire thing. Which leads to a friendly nudge with his elbow as they walk along. "Good call."

[magnetic]

The bump of Charles's arm inspires a glance first, and only afterward a smile, directed forward, his gaze lowered momentarily to the ground several paces ahead. It's a nominal show of modesty that few can inspire.

He is certainly not about to dwell on the feeling, so he moves on to teasing instead: "So, exactly how much shopping did you do today?"

[cerebral]

"Only window shopping." His voice rises mildly in a sort of 'hush, you' protest. Not that he minds being teased (far from it, but speaking of not dwelling—).

"I ended up chatting to a number of people along the way." And 'casually' instigating such chats, but nevermind that small detail. "This city certainly attracts an interesting bunch. Although I couldn't help but notice that a lot of us come from Earth, or a variant of Earth."

[magnetic]

"Yes, I had noticed that as well. It's true for this cohort, at least." And probably others. However many there are. It does not take much for Erik's train of thought to go sliding down a certain slope, and oh, there it goes, and the all-too-frequent sobriety begins its triumphant return to his mien. "It makes sense. A less predictable crowd would be more difficult to manage, if only due to basic psychological differences... not to mention physiological aspects. Compared to some species kept here, humans in particular are easy to control."

[cerebral]

"And you think what exactly? That we were caught up in the inter-dimensional cross-fire?" 'We,' of course, meaning them specifically or the xenian population in general. Charles can see where this train of thought leads; it's one they've been down many times before. Don't mind him as he gently finds a way to prod a hole in this logic.

[magnetic]

"Not necessarily." Maybe. "I don't presume to know the designs of whomever's in charge of this place... but if the general idea is to create a mostly humanoid...colony, or zoo, or whatever the hell is going on here, it makes sense that a large number of the subjects should be human. We could be here by accident, yes, but more likely for some other reason. Variety, perhaps." Because this is probably some kind of hideous experiment. And he hates it.

He kicks at one of those ubiquitous little stones during one of his strides.