[Having finally having had a chance to speak with Fred about his plans for Cerebro, Charles figures it's high time he spoke with his other potential assistants. He knows it's a big project, but it'll be well worth everyone's time in the long run. Sitting out on the roof, Charles clears his throat a moment, before writing a filter into his journal.]
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Even then, I can only imagine the sort of inertia the rooms might gain, speeding around the castle as they realign themselves in the optimal configuration. It could make for an interesting bit of fiction, writing of a thing like that.
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[Ah, a wheelchair? She's suddenly reminded of Barbara Gordon. Old friends...]
Who are you?
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Oh, forgive me. I didn't introduce myself, did I? My name's Charles Xavier.
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