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m!ways

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Shaw's got friends...

It echoes in his mind, even as he debates the merit of staying versus leaving. He has the information he needs, but Erik finds himself caught in a constant loop that seems to highlight what will happen to him if he strikes off on his own. He will pursue Shaw and then what? He's a mutant like Erik (like Charles) and he has mutant friends who can cut inside his mind and tear it to shreds.

Still, what good will a pacifist telepath and his teenaged sister do?

The CIA is hapless, as well, confused by the power that Shaw wields. So it is a difficult decision and one that he cannot make so easily. He retreats to his bedroom and lies on the uncomfortable bed, seeking out Charles with his mind as if needing that constant baseline and regular weight in his mind, even if he has not yet made a choice as to whether he will stay or go.

Are you awake?

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I do know.

There's a weight in his mental voice as he leans back on his bed and stares at the ceiling. Erik is more than his pain and anger and he has to find a way to show him.

Each long stride through the halls isn't enough and Erik cannot escape the feeling of being trapped. He eventually takes a turn for the gym, but keeps going until he ends up outside, wishing he had a cigarette to smoke. Yes, you've seen. Well, Charles, tell me how you can sit idly by and let it happen again, then.

A buried ripple of anger goes through Charles' mind, he won't give into it but Erik will feel the touch of it.

Do you think I will let anyone harm you or Raven if I can do anything?

I think you will try and stand by reason, even then. Erik is not easily swayed, but he does feel the anger. It drives him to wanting to sate some kind of pleasure and he searches until he finds an agent, bumming a cigarette and a light from him. Compromise until we die.

No, there is a limit to compromise, but I hope to not have to find it.

He can feel some of Erik's yearning and restlessness
and it makes him want a drink of Scotch and to search Erik out. The distance isn't too far, he can feel where Erik's in front with an agent but he feels unsure of himself.

Iris understands that he craves this sort of mental connection but its the addition of the physical that's important too. He's fairly sure that Erik would consider him more of a fool and he must have a bottle of Scotch somewhere.

Erik takes great relief in the cigarette, indulging in this vice that he'd seen so many adults employ. It's almost empty, but it helps to cut back on his jitters, his body shaking with a need for something he cannot take -- a need to show Charles, to place a claim, to get him on his side. It should be scary, but he finds it simply a normal course of events. You want something, Erik says, sensing that much.

A drink to start.

There's more he wants and it feels like more Erik wants as well but he feels unsure of how to begin.

I hear that drinking alone is cause for great loneliness. Shame, Charles, that you've become such a lonely old man at such a young age, thinks Erik with a smirk, inhaling sharply and flicking the ashes to the side before he stubs the cigarette and retreats back to his room.

So join me and show me how to act my age. I'm told I never have properly.

This teasing is comfortable, not safer but this is part of what he wants, this ease with Erik.

Without even stopping, Erik pivots on his foot and manages to make it to Charles' room with no delay, koncking lightly on the door so that he gives proper warning, in case Charles is fibbing and isn't truly alone. "You know, alcohol tends to only make me rather sharper and stronger on my beliefs."

As Erik makes his way, Charles gets out the Scotch and two glasses,

"Come in. I'd expect nothing else of you."

Erik enters easily, allowing his cool gaze to flicker over Charles before he takes a seat. He's still contemplating an exit in the middle of the night when everyone has fallen asleep, but he's keeping that as a last resort. "I know this much for humanity. They're generous enough to offer a smoke."

"They are and they make good Scotch,"

He pours out a glass and hands it to Erik. The room doesn't have that much space, Charles has covered the small desk with papers and journals.

The Scotch is resting on a little table as Charles sits on the bed so Erik can have the chair. He doesn't know how long Erik will stay but he's glad to have more time to talk and this is nicer than before.

Edited 2012-05-25 03:23 (UTC)

Erik reaches over to take hold of the Scotch, settling in the chair and crossing his legs. "You're an intelligent man, Charles, but have you not looked around you? What makes this any different from a prison? If I do leave, would they have let me? Or would I have been ill-met with new guards at the next checkpoint."

"Quite a number of things actually and you'd be able to leave. That's something I made quite clear. If they want my help or the help of any mutants, its our choice. No one's considered testing it yet as they underestimated me once and found it didn't work. Please don't do the same, Erik,"

Then he takes a slow sip of the Scotch enjoying the burn of it as he wishes he knew the key to making Erik stay. He'll do what it takes to do that, even show him the thoughts of those agents who won't stop him.

This wasn't what he was hoping for but nothing ever is with Erik, he's used to the world being his enemy.

"Underestimate you? Or test the kindness of a new owner?" he demands drily, giving Charles a frustrated look. He's none too pleased with his current situation because it removes control from his hands when he'd like to take the information and go.

Erik leans forward, forearms slotted over his thighs. "What if I begged you to run with me? What if I asked you to stand at my side. We'd recruit, we'd pursue Shaw. The CIA were helpless. You were the only one worth a damn on that ship."

Charles leans forward to meet Erik's gaze, this feels tense and comfortable. He's always preferred closeness, true intimacy has always been complicated for him,

"If you think of me that way then you know nothing about me. No, not without Raven, not until every resource here has been used."

Erik sighs somewhat, given that a shapeshifter's abilities would be very helpful, but she's young and she's untrained. Worse, she's hiding. "Well, don't say I never asked you to do anything with me," is his mild reply, as if they're speaking about something far more domestic.

At the mild reply, Charles lets out a quick breath that's almost a laugh and takes another drink.

That wasn't the reaction he expected but it feels like another small step forward, "I'll try not to."

"Keep in mind," Erik says, sipping at the scotch and tonguing a stray drop at the rim of the glass before he sips again, setting it down, "that you are merely on probation while I decide what to do. Forgive me, but I cannot trust humanity, not when I have seen what their fear leads them do."

And they should be very, very afraid of him.

"I know, you've made that quite clear. I'm thankful for any trust that you give as I know its hard won. You should also know that I don't say things I don't mean. Consider it a side effect of what I am,"

He needs Erik to know that he won't lie to him. This time he doesn't drink just turns his glass in his hands.

If Erik asks, he'll show him some of how he sees the world and why he trusts, but if this morning is anything to go by, it might be too much, too soon. Though that's always been his problem, he balances it and pulls back, constantly aware of the lines of what's accepted.

Erik gives nothing more than a thoughtful noise, relaxing back into the chair with the glass settled in his lap like a paperweight might sit -- unobtrusive and doing its part. "I'll get to the point. I want Shaw. That's it. Whatever world comes after, I will deal with later. Right now, I only want him and I want him dead."

"Then work with me to make the most use of what's here. If at any point you decide to leave, the door's open, but I'm also always listening,"

That's what he does, he listens in the hope of connecting. He takes a slow sip of his drink and sits up a little straighter.

"I'm not in the market for a therapist," Erik warns Charles, aware of the light brush against his mind. He pointedly does not open up, not this time. He is aware that he need keep some secrets. Instead, he watches Charles' lips against the glass, wondering once more at the colour of them.

That gets an eyebrow as he doesn't do that on purpose.

He shifts under Erik's gaze, looking over with a wry smile,

"I don't have a degree for that."