Prompt Post: ROUND SEVEN
ROUND SEVEN IS CLOSED
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<< ROUND SIX | ALL ROUNDS | ROUND EIGHT >>
Rules post.
Posting Guidelines.
Flat view.
Updates Post (WIPs only)
Fills Post (completed Fills only)
damalur's firstclasskink on Delicious.
Volunteers always welcome.
There is a delay on comments appearing when there is a URL in the message body. This is due to an LJ anti-spam ( Read more... )
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Erik was an early riser out of habit. One of the many lessons he’d learned from his time with Shaw was that a man was often at his most vulnerable when asleep. Charles, on the other hand, was not, regardless of his gentlemanly training growing up. Which perhaps was why Erik was surprised to find Charles seated at the hotel’s little table in the corner when he woke. Thin streaks of sunlight were creeping into the main room from the little window in the bathroom, illuminating the dull red of the carpet, the smooth wood of the table, and throwing long shadows into every corner and across the telepath’s face.
Charles had one of the books he’d brought along laid out on the table in front of him, the little glass from the bathroom sitting just off to the side. The fingers of his left hand were absently stroking the carved bottom of the glass, shifting the water inside ever so slightly, which he watched with a detached sort of interest. The room really wasn’t bright enough yet to make reading an easy task; it wasn’t surprising Charles was more interested in the glass than his book.
I wonder if he wishes that were coffee, he mused as he watched the other man.
Charles looked up to meet his gaze with a soft smile. “Good morning, Erik. And coffee would be lovely, actually.”
Erik gave up all pretense of sleep and swung his legs over the side of the bed, lifting himself into a sitting position. He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his bent knees and studied the man before him. Charles looked ruffled, his hair askew and still in his rumpled clothes from last night, but the pallor seemed to have left his skin, and he was well enough to pick up on Erik’s stray thoughts. Hopefully they wouldn’t have a repeat of last night, but he felt it best to make sure. He fixed Charles with a hard stare. “How are you feeling?”
“Honestly?” Erik gave a curt nod, and Charles slumped back against the hard back of his chair with a heavy sigh. “Tired, mostly. I wasn’t able to sleep very well at all.”
Erik nodded. Understandable. Charles had still been dry heaving in the bathroom when Erik had finally made his way back up to the room, and he’d still been camped out in the bathroom when Erik had drifted off. He couldn’t imagine that Charles had gotten much in the way of sleep. He slid his eyes over the man’s frame once more, once more taking in his disheveled form. Well, if he really thought about it, based on the state of things he’d be surprised if Charles had managed to get any sleep at all. “Those headaches,” he gestured vaguely at Charles with his hand, “do you get them often?”
“No. Not really. Headaches themselves are pretty common.” He smiled and tapped the side of his head, his voice lifting with humor. “Kind of comes with the territory of being a telepath.” He paused, letting his arm fall down into his lap. “But ones like last night? No, they’re usually not that bad. I haven’t had one that bad in years.” his voice was soft, almost like he was ashamed of himself for appearing so weak in front of the other man.
Erik propped his chin on his folded hands. He needed to change the subject, move on to the task at hand. Charles’s well-being was important, of course, but now that he was functioning they needed to refocus on the mission. “About last night-you said you couldn’t find the mutant we were after.” Charles gave a slow nod and waited for Erik to continue. He already knew the question lurking behind his companion’s words but wanted Erik to actually speak it aloud before answering. “Is he here now?”
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Erik cursed harshly under his breath before turning his attention back to Charles. “So what do you propose we do?”
Charles gave a half-hearted shrug with a small shake of his head. “Give up. We’ve already recruited two mutants as it is, and this one’s managed to get away from us twice. All we’re doing in chasing after him is wasting our time and the government’s money. It’s obvious he doesn’t want to be found.” He turned his head toward the bathroom, focusing on the slowly expanding beams of light creeping over the floor as his face screwed up in thought. “I say we head back to base and look up a new target, perhaps one closer to home this time.”
Erik watched Charles in silence, his mouth crushed up against his knuckles. Charles was hiding something, perhaps another headache, and it was making him uneasy. He wondered if the other man picked up it. If so, he was doing a damn good job at keeping it to himself. “So what do we tell the CIA?”
Charles shot him a pointed look. “That we failed,” he answered candidly. “It’s perfectly natural. We can’t expect to successfully locate and recruit every single mutant I identify using Cerebro.” His face lit up in a smile. “Even for a man of your abilities, Erik, such a task is impossible.”
“I know that,” Erik grumbled, rising to his feet. “It’s just frustrating. We came all the way out here for nothing.”
Charles’s eyes followed him as he walked over to his bag and began rifling through it for a fresh set of clothes. “You should call that agent-”
“Moira.”
“Yes, her. You should call her and let her know that we’re on our way back to New York.” He straightened. The sleeve of his clean shirt was dangling loosely from the crook of his arm, swaying lightly against his torso. “Maybe she can arrange for faster transportation out of here. That is unless you know of another mutant that’s close by.”
Charles shook his head. “Not one that would be of any use. The closest mutant to us based on the coordinates I can remember lives roughly fifty miles from here, but she’s only three months old.” His hand had moved back to finger the bottom of the glass.
“Then she’s of no use to us.” He reached down and grabbed Charles’s bag from the floor. The room was starting to heat up again; he could feel sweat beginning to gather on his brow. If there was nothing for them here, then they’d best move on as quickly as possible. There was no sense waiting around. “Are you hungry?” he asked Charles.
“Famished.”
He tossed the bag into the other man’s lap, just barely missing the glass of water on the table, and tilted his head toward the phone. “Then get yourself put together and call agent MacTaggert. Find out if she can get us a way out of here, preferably without dragging us through an airport. We can grab something to eat on the way out.”
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