Erik Lehnsherr: X-men First Class - Post-canon that-one-bar

[mm_lettie]

There's something to be said about the bar's sense of timing when it comes to bringing new people in.

Erik's helmet is clutched in one hand, white-knuckled fingers and all. There is the slow, rhythmic calmness to his breathing that makes it obvious to anyone that knows him that he's upset -- not just angry, but upsetThe helmet gets thrown on out

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[pickybitch]

Yes, there is certainly something to the bar's sense of timing.

After all, Charles Xavier is on top of the world. He's on the best end of a day he'd feared for months, perhaps even years, and he's come out as a professor. Professor Charles Xavier, which had such a ring to it, really. It was a name he felt he could fill in his better moments and a name he was terribly amused at the universe for owning in others.

This wasn't where he intended to go, of course; there's a pub he practically lives in and the difference is as subtle as a brick to the head. But he's too happy to care and happy enough to continue the celebration once he's finished here where he was supposed to end up. Some of his associates might wonder at his greatly reduced capacity for alcohol, but it was nothing he'd worry himself over.

"A pint of the house finest, if you please. And it will need friends soon enough."

[mm_lettie]

Erik is not a stupid man, nor is he a rash one. He does not rush over to Charles the way he might wish to, ask him how things are healing up ... because he heard Charles say that he couldn't feel his legs. He knew far too well with how the rest of his life had gone so far exactly what that meant.

And this Charles is exceedingly cheerful. He closes his eyes long enough to calm himself, letting the bar stools slide back to their spots. Then he opens them again, keeping the helmet on. That baby isn't coming off if this is the situation he thinks it is.

"My treat, of course," he says after a moment, waving his hand vaguely. "You have much to be cheerful about today, it seems?" His tone is questioning, but he can't keep the thin thread of familiarity out of it - the slight, desperate hope of having a second chance.

[pickybitch]

When Charles turns to him, it's with a bright smile... that dampens almost immediately as he turns to look at gentleman planning on treating. He can't help the twitch, the curl of his face, the microexpression of disdain; the man is dead, a corpse in his mind's eye. Something he no doubt had chosen, given the large metal helmet on his head. But if he had a helmet...

His eyes widened just a touch before he settled himself.

"I do," he recovered, all of it less than a second's processing. "A successful thesis and a new title. I've been made professor, in fact. Though..."

He glanced at the man, curious and annoyed in turns though neither of them show through the genial smile and the slowly fading joy. Puzzles always take precedence for him and this one had practically run to the front of the line.

"May I ask how you might know that, Mr..."

[mm_lettie]

It's Erik's turn to look surprised, just for a moment. If Charles has really only just gotten his professorship, that means that he's -- from well before they met. That explains some things, including his mobility.

He can't very well say that they've gotten to know each other well enough that he knows when Charles is happy (and indeed, when he is annoyed and curious). The joy-turned-silence sends a pang of guilt into his chest, but he neatly ignores that for the moment. He wants to put Charles at ease, but he can't in good conscience remove the helmet.

He should at the very least explain himself.

"Lehnsherr. Erik." Some small part of him is enjoying controlling this particular situation, though, so he adds, "And you're Professor Charles Xavier, correct? I must say that I am a ... fan." Ha.

[hadyougoing]

Ava does not know Erik at all. But she does know a thing or two about people.*

"Nice helmet," she says appreciatively, taking a sip of her caramel macchiato.

*Like what they do when they're panicking, and also the sorts of things they say while fighting for their lives and/or begging to be killed quickly/not to be killed at all.

[mm_lettie]

Erik is good at choosing to ignore sarcasm. Right now he's just concerned about where exactly it is that he's landed himself.

"It has its uses," he responds in turn, voice tight.

[hadyougoing]

The bar stools are also eyed, but not with much concern.

Ava's dealt with telekinetics before.

"Is there gonna be a rumble?" she asks curiously.

"Because my hair's been really good today." Look at her not commenting about helmet head! Look at that!

That's totally personal growth.

[mm_lettie]

"Well, whether there is going to be a 'rumble' depends on whether or not you can explain to me how I got here."

Because if she's some sort of government agent sent to kill him, he's not going to be very nice to her.

..not that he's terribly nice to many people, but still. He sometimes tries!

The stools continue to wobble, but he forces them down from the original height.

[rascal_x_flame]

"Hey, I know this place is weird, but it's not that dangerous."

Lea has a view of the door - not too close, or so he thought, 'til one of the stools nearly got him.

[mm_lettie]

He gaze snaps to the boy with the flaming red hair.

"And how is it that you gauge this place as not dangerous? It has pulled me from my current business to here."

[rascal_x_flame]

Lea blinks a couple of times, gives the guy a once-over, and then comes to the conclusion: "Ooooohhh, a first-timer, huh? Well, I didn't say it's not dangerous, just that it's not that dangerous, got it memorised?"

[mm_lettie]

Erik narrows his eyes at the boy for a moment.

"I heard you the first time. I can only assume it has a reason for bringing me here."

[will_scarlett]

(OOC: I will probably be slow but I wanted to fangirl your Erik. He's so well done.)

Will looks up from his ale as Erik enters, he looks like a man who's just left battle. Today has been quiet in Sherwood and Will is in his Lincoln green with a sword at his belt and nods,

"Good eve, sir."

[mm_lettie]

{OOC: Aw, thanks! No worries about the slow. <3}

If he didn't know better --

-- he could be Charles' twin. The hair is different, and he looks quite ridiculous (even to the man wearing the oversized metal helmet), but the resemblance is remarkable.

"...good evening." So, it's evening here. That's something, at least. "You don't look at all surprised to see someone coming through that door who has little idea what they are about to walk into. Does this happen ... often?"

[will_scarlett]

"Aye, it does. Milliways 'as a way o'surprisin' folks. It first pulled me in when I was tryin' to be elsewhere, which it did aid me in. That was many years ago an now I'm used to it. The first drink is free if ye'll join me. I find it a great 'elp in understandin'. I'm Will Scarlett o'Nottingham durin' the reign o'King Richard the Lion'eart,"

He gestures to a seat beside him but will not push. The look Erik is giving him is slightly disconcerting for its intensity.

[mm_lettie]

The accent relieves him in many ways - this man is certainly not Charles Xavier.

That is perhaps stranger than his appearance in this place. Still, he's willing to provide information and he hasn't done anything to warrant Erik's suspicion yet, so he nods.

"Information I will take kindly, but I will decline the seat for now," he says, glancing to the stool and letting the ones that had been clattering behind him drop down for the moment.

"If you are being honest about your time, which I suspect you are, then I am from some great time in your future. You may call me Magneto."

[not_broomboy]

The young man smoking at the bar, or rather not smoking, watching the smoke, actually sits up a little at the man who walks in.

And turns very quickly to face elsewhere. After all, his instincts want to dig, to look, to Listen, and he is well aware that he is the last person in the world anyone should listen to.

[mm_lettie]

He notices, however. It's peculiar enough to see someone merely watching smoke curl from a cigarette. To see them avert their attention so quickly, however, is worth some investigation.

The stools clatter noisily down behind him.

"There is not much point," he says smoothly, "to turning away once you've made a fuss about something."

[not_broomboy]

"I don't recall making a fuss," he answers, voice a little tight. Uncomfortable. Still unsocialized even if he can fake it in better circumstances.

Badly.

[mm_lettie]

"Your movements are too jerky," he says carefully, noting the tightness in Liir's voice.

It's familiar.

"You betrayed your interest; you're curious. There's no reason to hide something like that."