serenity-and-hope:

iamthefirechild:

serenity-and-hope:

He made a soft noise in the back of his throat and crossed the hall, pushing open the door to his study and traversing the thick carpet to the minibar, sighing with relief as he closed his fingers around the neck of a bottle of scotch. Oh, welcome home, Charles. He poured himself a glass and took a swig before even thinking to offer something to his guest. Chiding himself quietly, he turned and gestured to the minibar behind him. “If you’d like something, you’re more than welcome to it. Even if you don’t drink, I’ve got some soda here…you know, in case my sister ever comes back.”

He tried not to let the mention of Raven grate on him.

There was a flare of regret, and hurt … Summer tried to pull herself out of the man’s heart. It was really impolite, after all, and was just going to make the side effects worse as they kicked in. “A soda would be really nice, thank you.” She glanced around the room as she crossed to the minibar, snaking a quick hand inside the fridge to grab a can. “It’s a really lovely place you have here, Professor.”

He crossed the room to sit in an overstuffed armchair adjacent to a round marble-top table with a stone chess set resting on its surface. He sat back with a light sigh, taking another drink of his scotch.

“Thank you; my family has lived here for a long time. It’s high time I had a family of my own to inhabit it.” He tried not to feel the swell of pride that bloomed in his chest — he immediately thought of his students, and the joy they had brought to his monolithic manor.

Popping the tab, Summer folded down to sit crosslegged on the floor beside the chess set. She took a moment to yank her braid out from underneath herself before starting to really study him over the top of the can. “What am I allowed to know about this place?”

serenity-and-hope:

iamthefirechild:

serenity-and-hope:

Charles didn’t think his eyebrows could go any higher. The suggestion of a drink was wonderful, and he looked reluctantly down at his paperwork, checking due dates and other fine print. This was his house, after all, and he should be treating guests, not the other way round. It was far too late to go to a bar, and he wasn’t going to risk any sort of legal action if the young lady was a minor. And he wasn’t going to poke around inside the girl’s head to see if she was of age; that sort of thing he reserved for troublemakers and scoundrels, which he knew very few of.

One way or the other, the paperwork could wait. He pushed back his chair and got to his feet, sighing quietly and running a hand tiredly through his hair. “A drink sounds marvelous, but I can get it myself, dear. You’re welcome to join me,” he breathed before crossing the office to the door and tugging it open. Across the hall was his study, and in his study was a minibar stocked with wonderful goodies.

Clearly, there was going to be a lot of communication with eyebrows in this relationship. She raised her own at Xavier’s back and followed, saying, “I’m not really much of a drinker, myself, but I’ll sit with you, if I may.” She could sense his mild unease, but empathy without telepathy left her guessing about the reason.

He made a soft noise in the back of his throat and crossed the hall, pushing open the door to his study and traversing the thick carpet to the minibar, sighing with relief as he closed his fingers around the neck of a bottle of scotch. Oh, welcome home, Charles. He poured himself a glass and took a swig before even thinking to offer something to his guest. Chiding himself quietly, he turned and gestured to the minibar behind him. “If you’d like something, you’re more than welcome to it. Even if you don’t drink, I’ve got some soda here…you know, in case my sister ever comes back.”

He tried not to let the mention of Raven grate on him.

There was a flare of regret, and hurt … Summer tried to pull herself out of the man’s heart. It was really impolite, after all, and was just going to make the side effects worse as they kicked in. “A soda would be really nice, thank you.” She glanced around the room as she crossed to the minibar, snaking a quick hand inside the fridge to grab a can. “It’s a really lovely place you have here, Professor.”

serenity-and-hope:

iamthefirechild:

serenity-and-hope:

iamthefirechild:

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?”

Charles didn’t think his eyebrows could go any higher. The suggestion of a drink was wonderful, and he looked reluctantly down at his paperwork, checking due dates and other fine print. This was his house, after all, and he should be treating guests, not the other way round. It was far too late to go to a bar, and he wasn’t going to risk any sort of legal action if the young lady was a minor. And he wasn’t going to poke around inside the girl’s head to see if she was of age; that sort of thing he reserved for troublemakers and scoundrels, which he knew very few of.

One way or the other, the paperwork could wait. He pushed back his chair and got to his feet, sighing quietly and running a hand tiredly through his hair. “A drink sounds marvelous, but I can get it myself, dear. You’re welcome to join me,” he breathed before crossing the office to the door and tugging it open. Across the hall was his study, and in his study was a minibar stocked with wonderful goodies.

Clearly, there was going to be a lot of communication with eyebrows in this relationship. She raised her own at Xavier’s back and followed, saying, “I’m not really much of a drinker, myself, but I’ll sit with you, if I may.” She could sense his mild unease, but empathy without telepathy left her guessing about the reason.

serenity-and-hope:

iamthefirechild:

serenity-and-hope:

iamthefirechild:

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?”

serenity-and-hope:

iamthefirechild:

serenity-and-hope:

iamthefirechild:

*raises a eyebrow* May I offer a suggestion? Secretaries often help with that sort of work. You could hire someone.

[He laughs almost bitterly and takes a brief moment to glance up at her before returning his gaze to his papers.] I’m afraid I can’t trust many people to do the paperwork for the school that I run…they would have to a) be a mutant, or a human with a very high tolerance for the bizarre, and b) know the inner workings of the school as well as I do, and there are not many people who can say that for themselves. Given my powers and how the government would like to get their hands on me, I find it hard to really trust anyone, especially with matters concerning my school.

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!”

serenity-and-hope:

iamthefirechild:

serenity-and-hope:

iamthefirechild:

serenity-and-hope:

Was I? I rather thought I had fun, though I just hope it doesn’t catch up with me.

I’ll still want that string.

The confusion in your little kitten brain, though! *smiles and drapes her braid over her shoulder* Will this be an acceptable substitute for string?

[He declines politely, shaking his head and putting a hand up.] Merely joking, my dear; I’ve lost almost all of my catlike tendencies except the one that’s rather fond of curling up to something warm.

However, now that the whole mess is behind me, I can unhappily resume my task of shoveling through the mountains of paperwork it takes to run the school. [He sighs tiredly and returns to his desk, sitting in his chair and resting his cheek on his knuckles as he thumbs through papers at an astounding rate.]

*raises a eyebrow* May I offer a suggestion? Secretaries often help with that sort of work. You could hire someone.

[He laughs almost bitterly and takes a brief moment to glance up at her before returning his gaze to his papers.] I’m afraid I can’t trust many people to do the paperwork for the school that I run…they would have to a) be a mutant, or a human with a very high tolerance for the bizarre, and b) know the inner workings of the school as well as I do, and there are not many people who can say that for themselves. Given my powers and how the government would like to get their hands on me, I find it hard to really trust anyone, especially with matters concerning my school.

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.”