Fill: Tabula Rasa (11/?)swiftmintSeptember 15 2011, 15:57:31 UTC
Charles was gone for only a few minutes but those few minutes were absolute torture.
What could have possibly possessed him to let a man he just met, openly threatened, and very likely bruised at the very least (He seemed the type to bruise easy) go and wrangle five men with guns on his behalf? Why had it seemed a good idea, on his word and a pair of honest-seeming eyes, that he should let Charles just run off.
The man paced back and forth in the compartment, keeping far away from the section of glass even as his mind was occupied with visions of the smaller man running up to the first official looking person he could find and regaling them with a tale of how he'd just been temporarily kidnapped by the dumbest man in all existence. How Charles had very neatly made him to confess he wasn't armed in any way besides cutlery, gotten him to trust him, and he'd just been allowed to walk out.
Or worse yet, the fool could have given himself away to these men with guns and twitchy demeanors. He was obviously the honest type, after all, how in the hell could he be a good liar? At this very moment, he could be bleeding out in some lonely corner of the train where they'd stashed him to keep him out of the way while they headed right towards the compartment he was in.
He flipped that omnipresent butter knife over in a graceful silver flash along the back of his knuckles and glared at an offensive patch on the wall. Five seconds, five was all he could give this situation.
Five, four... the click of the door opening made him spin on a heel, arcing the knife around...
“Apologies,” Charles said tensely, eyes looking down at the knife hovering a few inches in front of his face, “I probably should have knocked.”
“Might have been a good consideration,” He returned with smooth sarcasm.
Charles let out a breathy laugh at that and left him no choice but to petulantly drop the knife back to his side.
“So?” He prodded and Charles jumped, remembering that he did have something to say. He looked positively flushed and more than a little keyed up, but he seemed to be taking to it well if the smile on his face was any indication.
“Right, yes,” Charles said with a nod, “It's all set. You likely have five or six minutes to work with, though there is still one wandering around, so be careful.” He said all this like he hadn't just inexplicably apprehended four armed men.
“...How?” He couldn't keep the abject disbelief from his voice.
“Hm? Oh,” Charles shrugged, “I might have lead them to believe there was a shady looking character in the storage compartment a few cars back. Then the door might have accidentally locked behind them. You owe me a pen by the way.”
Of all the things he had come across these past few weeks including waking up not knowing who or where he was... Charles Xavier was the most confusing thing so far. The most he could do was stare, eyebrows drawn together, then resolutely turn on a heel and walk past him out the door.
To his credit, Charles politely stepped out of his way and held the door open... and then he opened his mouth to speak again.
What could have possibly possessed him to let a man he just met, openly threatened, and very likely bruised at the very least (He seemed the type to bruise easy) go and wrangle five men with guns on his behalf? Why had it seemed a good idea, on his word and a pair of honest-seeming eyes, that he should let Charles just run off.
The man paced back and forth in the compartment, keeping far away from the section of glass even as his mind was occupied with visions of the smaller man running up to the first official looking person he could find and regaling them with a tale of how he'd just been temporarily kidnapped by the dumbest man in all existence. How Charles had very neatly made him to confess he wasn't armed in any way besides cutlery, gotten him to trust him, and he'd just been allowed to walk out.
Or worse yet, the fool could have given himself away to these men with guns and twitchy demeanors. He was obviously the honest type, after all, how in the hell could he be a good liar? At this very moment, he could be bleeding out in some lonely corner of the train where they'd stashed him to keep him out of the way while they headed right towards the compartment he was in.
He flipped that omnipresent butter knife over in a graceful silver flash along the back of his knuckles and glared at an offensive patch on the wall. Five seconds, five was all he could give this situation.
Five, four... the click of the door opening made him spin on a heel, arcing the knife around...
“Apologies,” Charles said tensely, eyes looking down at the knife hovering a few inches in front of his face, “I probably should have knocked.”
“Might have been a good consideration,” He returned with smooth sarcasm.
Charles let out a breathy laugh at that and left him no choice but to petulantly drop the knife back to his side.
“So?” He prodded and Charles jumped, remembering that he did have something to say. He looked positively flushed and more than a little keyed up, but he seemed to be taking to it well if the smile on his face was any indication.
“Right, yes,” Charles said with a nod, “It's all set. You likely have five or six minutes to work with, though there is still one wandering around, so be careful.” He said all this like he hadn't just inexplicably apprehended four armed men.
“...How?” He couldn't keep the abject disbelief from his voice.
“Hm? Oh,” Charles shrugged, “I might have lead them to believe there was a shady looking character in the storage compartment a few cars back. Then the door might have accidentally locked behind them. You owe me a pen by the way.”
Of all the things he had come across these past few weeks including waking up not knowing who or where he was... Charles Xavier was the most confusing thing so far. The most he could do was stare, eyebrows drawn together, then resolutely turn on a heel and walk past him out the door.
To his credit, Charles politely stepped out of his way and held the door open... and then he opened his mouth to speak again.
“It was nice to meet you, Erik.”
He froze.
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