[ It's been over a year since this latest iteration of Charles Xavier tipped himself out of a stasis pod, and he's undergone some changes since then. The scruff, the hair, the cynicism that stacks on with age, and the dog, apparently, a eight-month-old black labrador whose recent brush with radiation sickness has left him, mercifully, less excitable this jump round. Charles is seated nearby, dressed in mostly Tranquility standard issue clothing, damp hair swept back and hands occupied in petting his dog, who lies at his feet.
It's a waiting game, to see if he needs to make a medical officer play veterinarian some more.
But one thing that can't be identified as a change is a propensity towards nicotine, and the smell of it is sharp and smokey in the sterile surroundings of the medical bay. Charles looks up when Jax heads nearer, with recognition easily overtaking what got his attention initially.
no subject
It's a waiting game, to see if he needs to make a medical officer play veterinarian some more.
But one thing that can't be identified as a change is a propensity towards nicotine, and the smell of it is sharp and smokey in the sterile surroundings of the medical bay. Charles looks up when Jax heads nearer, with recognition easily overtaking what got his attention initially.
A nod, then, in greeting. ]
Welcome back, sleeping beauty.