[Location: Central]

[brokenoptimism]

It's chilly and wet, the damp of the light rain clinging to Charles' skin and clothes in a way that it should not be. Most people would have the sense to get out of the rain, and really, Charles did. He was just ignoring it.

He had ventured farther from the mansion than he really had since arriving. He was standing in front of the Sanctuary, the one place he had avoided most since arriving, just staring at the building.

Every now and then people walking by gave him an odd look, but he had been standing there for over an hour, just waiting, and other than the passing touch of their wondering thoughts, he ignored them. The arrival of others who knew him had renewed some of the lost hope in Charles. Hope that someone from his reality might also appear.

But that wasn't why he was standing in the rain, staring up at the building he had emerged from months before. He was deep in thought, tucked away in his own mind the way he had often done during his nine months of captivity. This was captivity, too. Just with a different kind of torture and an illusion of freedom.

This was the place they had all been dragged to, from their worlds. Maybe it held the key to getting back.

Comments

[ownlittleprison]

There's no questioning look at the explanation, just an accepting nod and an upside down fair enough moue. He's not one to judge, and god knows he's had his fair share of anachronistic moments and zone outs.

"Same here. I've been running all over town, just daring the hamsters to screw up."

Another glance, this one a little bit more on the assessing end of the spectrum. "Don't take this the wrong way, but you're on your way to catching meningitis. There's this coffee place not far from here, if you feel like some company. Coffee's on me, how about it?"

[brokenoptimism]

"I suppose you're right." Charles shook some of the water off his arms, looking down at the state of his clothing. He gave a short nod, glancing back to Mick. He was more in the mood for a cup of hot, spiced tea, than coffee. If he was lucky, they would have that as well.

"If you do not mind to lead the way, I am afraid I do not really know my way around this part of town."

[ownlittleprison]

That earns Xavier an easier grin, and Mick holds out his hand for a proper handshake despite the poor weather. You never knew how a guy reacts to a friendly offer, but these are special circumstances and trying times. He's just glad it's met with approval.

"Mick St. John. You're Summers' friend, right?"

Sorry about the delay.

[brokenoptimism]

Charles hesitates only a moment before taking the proffered hand in a firm handshake. He has to overcome this tendency toward distrust somehow, and having a mind around that made sense, and did not send shudders of disquiet through him at the emptiness contained there, would probably do him so good.

"Charles Xavier." He had to stop himself, a mental reminder that it was Scott, and not Alex, that Mick was likely speaking of. "Yes, I believe I am. You know Scott, then?"