(Untitled)

[butwedonot]

The morning had dragged on a bit to long for Charles' taste, there always seemed to be something that needed to be done. The air had been heavy throughout the house, be it the forboding shadow cast over the Westchester mannor or the tension that arose from many hard and not exactly fruitful trainning sessions throughout the day. It seemed that

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[drlehnsherr]

As you wish, [ He says, with an interested lilt, casting a quickly searching look at the other man before circumventing the couch. Charles' study seemed to double as an extension for the library, the walls consisted of mainly bookshelves, crammed full with a mixture of old and new editions; some antique, judging by the gilded pages and heavily ornamented spines, others modern in their paperback bindings. The shift in Charles' posture could be an invitation to sit down beside him, rather than in the armchair that he usually took up during chess matches. There has been alteration in their relationship; it's turned and changed, and they have grown closer-- physically at times, in truth, though it's been a gradually natural progression. He's still uncertain to what degree the initiation of any contact closer than a clap on the shoulder, or another equally platonic gesture, is up to him-- and he is unwilling to broach that tentative trust that has been established, the slow warming they've experienced.

It's only a moment of debate, and he sits down next to Charles; not close enough to crowd-- but it is hardly a brotherly distance. One arm extends to drape over the back of the thing, angling him towards the other man. Giving him due consideration-- perhaps he had been too intense in their discussions of late; but the topic always leaned towards their idealistic divisions, and thus often resulted in something like an argument, that left the atmosphere crackling with tension between them. It may be a relief, on both their parts, not to have another debate-- and to leave the terse disagreements to a yet unforeseen time. ] I'm not only here to provide a foil, my friend, conversation does not necessarily have to embody a fencing match. [ He reaches for the book in the telepath's lap, gently tilting it so he can read the title, one eyebrow raising just slightly. ]