She shrugs. “I can’t speak to the second, but for the first requirement … I meet it. Lamely, I suppose, but I’m … a mutant.” She spreads her hands, studying the palms. “And a magician.” A little wry smile. “Trust me, my tolerance for the bizarre is pretty damn high. And you’re really overworked.”
“Overworked is my middle name; whoever says it’s Francis has obviously been to the bar recently.” Charles chuckled at his own joke before looking up at her again, looking this time much more serious. There was no way he could take in a secretary, much less one in the form of a young woman he barely knew. He would barely trust Raven or Hank to manage all the paperwork it took to run the school, not to mention the money that would go out for it. At the least, she deserved to know that.
“But I’m afraid I live to be overworked — the paperwork must be my responsibility; only I know where it comes from and what it says about which part of the school and where it goes once I’ve filled it out…while I appreciate the offer, there’s not much for anyone else to do about it.”
Her mouth worked, and she started to say something several times before giving it up as a bad job. “What can I do to earn your trust, even a little?” In a familiar gesture, she brushed the fingertips of one hand against her temple. “I can … taste … how stressed you are. I know I’m being a pest, but I just … I can’t not try. To help … ” Abruptly she swore. “This fucking language!”
‘Calm your mind.’
He raised his eyebrows at her, then resumed working through his papers, two fingers resting casually on his temple as he did. ‘It isn’t a matter of trust, it’s a matter of ‘only Charles knows where the papers go’, so don’t worry your pretty little head about it. If I wanted a secretary, I would have asked one of my students to take the job, as only they know the school as well as I do. I may end up tired at the end of the day, but what person who looks out for more children than he has fingers isn’t? It’s the name of the game, sweetheart, and while I appreciate your efforts to spare me the agony of paperwork, there are better ways to get to know me.’
He would not project that buying him a drink was usually where most people started.
She had to rock a step backward when his voice slid into her mind, as cool and sophisticated as everything else about him. It sent a shiver down her spine. Almost immediately, she could feel her … gift latch on, and she groaned inwardly. The last thing she needed was to end up coming on to the one person she’d been directed to that might be able to help.
“Anything at all I can do to help? Fetch and carry, get you a drink?” A little wryly, she added, “Get out of your hair already?”