oo2. partially open.

[xerampelinae]

CHARACTERS: Charles Xavier + Natasi (Caprica Six) + Peter Parker; and others as they happen.
LOCATION: To be added.
WARNINGS: To be added also.
SUMMARY: Only one of these people is getting anything done, turns out.
NOTES: Monthly catch all! This is only partially open because I'm not providing a fixed narrative thing to reply to. Hence, please let me know if you'd like to do anything, and I'll be happy to set up a thread (unless you feel ambitious).

Comments

[forgodssake]

You can, when you say something like I have a surprise.

Raven had always gone for speed, dirty tactics like springing it on him seconds after waking up in the morning, until they had outright made a pact that he wouldn't wander around in her head without asking. Informing Charles that he ought not to look is really the only way short of helmets from Russia.

Charles is-- well he thinks he's dressed nicely. It isn't formal, which he only saves for work or if he expects it'll get him laid, these days; a shirt of questionable taste in pattern and colour, tucked into jeans that are a little high waisted, with shoes on his feet that are a little pointy. A brown leather jacket is worn by his chair, and he's poured for himself a small nip of clear liquor from the bar.

It tastes horrible, but they all have to make do. As Odessa walks in, he doesn't rise, but his body language opens up, receptive. "Really?"

[treasonista]

"Really." Buckles are unfastened and the front flap is peeled away so that she can reach into the depths of her bag. When she withdraws her hand again, it's with her fingers held straight and together, her thumb folded against her palm, concealing whatever it is she's brought. She rests that hand on the bar for a moment, brows lifting, as if in silent query. Are you ready?

With a flourish, Odessa raises her hand and reveals her small surprise: Several carefully rolled cigarettes. Teeth flash white behind painted lips parted in a wide grin. She sing-songs, "Ta da."

[forgodssake]

"Darling."

Charles places chin in hand while his other set of fingers ease across table surface towards her in silent asking for one immediately thanks. Having all important luxuries at their regularly disposal ensures that the Tranquility is only a survival situation inasmuch as their lives are constantly at risk, but the limited access to tobacco and other smokeable substances is an unwanted restriction.

But so is being able to walk outside. Books. Filet mignon. "How many hours pulling weeds is that many? I never did ask after the going rate."

[treasonista]

It's untenable, is what it is. Odessa nudges one of the sticks toward Charles with the tip of her finger. "Go ahead. They're all yours." Because she's got more for herself, evidenced as she withdraws another from her bag, along with a book of matches that's nearly empty.

"It is so many hours." Which is a problem, but really drives home the reward for work. "I'm told I'm very efficient." A match is struck and held up to the tip of the cigarette she's holding between her lips now. Once that's lit, she holds the flame out toward her companion. "But only when I'm unsupervised." Goes much faster that way. Not for her, but to the outside (non-)observer.

[forgodssake]

Charles gets out of his chair enough to lean across table, touching cigarette end to flame. His settling back is at renewed ease along with the feeling of smoke soaking into his lungs, warm and sharp in slow breath out. This is such a life long problem, isn't it, and immensely hypocritical for a guy who was once rather health conscious, but sometimes it feels as though being trapped in horror ship without cigarettes is dangerous to his health too.

He scoops the several cigarettes up with an easy "thank you", not quite precious enough to feel suspicious about this act of kindness, and besides, he feels a little less like a nervy cat around this woman when she isn't on her guard too, and he has his telepathy back, somewhat.

Speaking of which.

What she says is odd but not especially notable. It's the way her thoughts echo after it that has Charles lifting a look up at her, all at once sharply and conspicuously curious. What was that?

[treasonista]

The match is shook until the flame is extinguished and the smoke rises up into the air in slow, decaying ribbons. Her shoulders relax with the first lungful inhaled, and she leans back in her seat languidly. Hypocrites in good company.

She only realizes her slip up when she catches that look he's giving her. Rather than immediately put up her walls once again, which would only make the misstep all the more obvious, Odessa decides to take a leap of faith. They've known each other a little while now, after all, and he hasn't been at all what she expected of a telepath. And that's accounting for the time when he effectively wasn't one. "You know the saying, a watched pot never boils?"

[forgodssake]

He kind of wants to ask what did she expect of him as a telepath, but maybe later. Charles picks up his glass to finish the mouthful left of clear liquor inside of it, still keeping his eye on her as he does so.

By the time it is set down, there's the start of an almost smile at the corner of his mouth.

"And if a tree falls when no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound."

[treasonista]

It's not his fault that she's had some bad experiences with telepaths. She's biased, and it's unfair. Sorry, dude. But she smiles faintly at his response, inclining her head to indicate that he's on the right track. "Take your eyes off me, and I'm full of endless possibility. But watch me too closely, and you'll never see anything remarkable."

Please ignore the sudden pang of depression that rolls off her like a wave at that revelation. It's a gift and a curse being essentially invisible once someone takes their eyes off you. And that depression is short-lived anyway, because she's still quite proud of her ability, all told.

"Surprise." She's not just a pretty face (and excellent brain) after all. On top of that pride she has in her ability, however, she's nervous. They have been working together for the better part of six months, and she hasn't shared her secret with him. Suppose that's why it's called a secret.