Prompt Post: ROUND TWO

[oakenshields13]

ROUND TWO IS CLOSED

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ROUND TWO: Updates Post (WIPs only)

ROUND TWO: Fills Post (completed Fills only)

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Fill 1: White Blank Page (2/?, Charles/Erik)

[anonymous]

Actually based on this mutant: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mastermind_(Jason_Wyngarde)

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The Mastermind was just as dismissive with Erik and Mystique when they approached him, barely sparing them a glance before he drawled, "Booth's not open." He seemed more interested in filing his nails, buffing them to a shine while humming something off-key (deliberately, Erik was sure) under his breath. The mentalist's very being was dripping with nonchalance, but Erik knew better. He had seen cobras like this before, quiet and still, but poised to strike.

"We were just curious about what you did to that Marine," Mystique said, once it was apparent that Erik wasn't going to say anything first. "Why did he take off like that?"

"God knows," the mentalist said, his lips twisting up into a smirk. "Maybe he had heatstroke."

"Or maybe you showed him something so terrible that he ran off." Erik's voice was low and calm, but something in it made the Mentalist look up, silently assessing the two of them seriously for the first time.

"Sure, if you believe in that sort of thing," he finally said, before going back to his nails, filing them a little harder than necessary. "Anyway, show's over, folks."

"Oh, I don't think so." It barely cost Erik a flicker of effort to make that annoying nail file jump out of the mentalist's hands and float up into the air in a spiral, leaving its owner gawking at it. Out of the corner of his eye, Erik could sense Mystique looking out for any nosy customer or carnie walking past, but they were still alone. "Something tells me your booth is now open for business, Mr. Wyngarde."

Surprise registered on the mentalist's face. "How do you-" His eyes narrowed suspiciously at Erik. "Are you from the Brotherhood?"

Erik didn't answer, but the nail file was now hovering dangerously close to the mentalist's left eyeball. His face remained impassive, but the way his knuckles were whitening as he gripped the table told Erik the real story. "Willing to talk now?"

The mentalist nodded once, sharply. The nail file clattered to the ground, and Erik gave him a wide, wide smile which made him draw back.

"Excellent, Mr. Wyngarde. Now, let us talk."