thoughtformed | Office Hours

Charles was finishing the tail end of a lecture, the surface thoughts of his students always hovering at the forefront of his mind while he spoke, and while some were disheartening or inappropriate, others proved ... far more intriguing.

As everyone began to pack up their books and papers, Charles sent the laptop into sleep mode. It had taken some getting used to, but the technology available to him here really was quite fascinating, and he had taken to using it more this year after working on a better understanding of it over the summer. Students seemed to respond better to the 'new age' technology than the old fashioned lecture. Still,Charles preferred words to slides and images. The methods just felt much more personal without the distractions of digital media.

"Tim, would you mind staying behind a moment. I would like to have a brief chat with you." He smiled as he said it, though there were still a few students who gave them both looks as they slipped out the doors. No one ever seemed to want to stay long once the lectures ended. Pity, really. Charles loved to talk to his students.

Tim checked his watch, more or less reflexively. "No problem, professor."

Of all his classes this semester, Xavier's was by far the most engaging -- the Professor's mind worked on a higher level. Tim would never have said, out loud, that Xavier was the only college faculty member he knew who was smarter than he was, but he'd thought it more than a few times.

Charles waited for the rest of the students to filter out of the classroom, many of them back into their discussions of the Island's recent switch to more piratical pastimes rather than anything actually related to the class. He could not find it in him to blame them. The event had certainly been an odd one.

Once they were alone in the classroom he offered another smile. Tim was possibly his favorite student. Certainly one of the brightest and one of the few who seemed to not only grasp the material but have an interest in it. It was refreshing when so many of his students spent the class period pondering whether or not they could put off the paper until the end of the term, or thinking about the upcoming weekend. He had to admit he enjoyed calling on the more distracted of his students now and then to see if they could find their way back to the topic.

Today's topic had sparked some very interesting thought processes in his students, in particular Tim, whose thoughts on cloning had been... surprising. Interesting. While Charles had not delved deep into the ethics of cloning in this lecture, he had encouraged the discussion among his students, and now he found himself wanting a closer look at some of the opinions that had passed through Tim's thoughts.

"I hope you don't mind me keeping you back a while, but I was hoping to hear your thoughts-" Verbally. At least. He had already heard quite a few of them as it was. "On the subject." There was a slight tone to his voice that suggested he had a good idea on the matter. He really did want to discuss this with Tim and discover, perhaps, why his ethical views on the subject were quite so different from the ones Charles regarded it with. He encouraged his students to have their own opinions on the topic, of course, but Charles had always been fairly hard-headed and optimistic, believing he could perhaps broaden their knowledge and opinions with a well-placed discussion

Edited (weee run-on sentences) 2012-09-27 03:42 (UTC)

Warning bells started ringing in Tim's mind. The hesitation, plus the information he'd collected suggesting that Xavier had some sort of telepathic abilities, and the fact that he's waited until they were alone to start talking... he immediately began doing differential calculus inside his head.

"It's certainly an area of interest," he admitted, hedging his bets as best he could, waiting for the hammer to drop. Was this a friendly investigation? A request for some off-the-books help with an experiment? He was reserving judgment, for now, but best to be noncommittal until he was sure what this was about. "Cloning is a pretty broad topic, though. Was there something in particular?"

It was the day before one of Charles' days off, and as usual, he found himself occupying a familiar seat at the bar of the Nancing Phony. It was becoming something of a bad habit, really, but Charles still insisted to himself mentally that drinking socially did not make him an alcoholic. Even if he left the Pub with a slur to his voice and a slight unsteadiness to his steps.

Raven wasn't here to gently nudge at him when he had had too much or pull him away from a lady he had been more interested in the act of flirting with than actually taking home with him, or going home with. These different times did make that a bit harder, at least, and most nights he left the pub alone and not drunk enough to be distracted from his thoughts.

Erik was here, and the children were alone, or possibly with Moira, but very certainly not here. He smiled a bright and empty gesture in Conrad's direction and ordered himself a pint of bitters. Maybe tonight he would find enough distraction to keep his thoughts from home.

Jack had been keen on speaking to Charles for some time now. Though the two had once routinely shared drinks at the bar, and on at least one occasion, a bed-like surface, Jack had seldom seen the young professor since Ianto had come to town. Though to be fair, Jack hadn't seen too much of anyone outside his tiny sphere of Torchwood since Ianto arrived anyway.

Tonight, however, was a remarkable exception. Instead of taking his usual stool near the centre of the bar, he takes a seat right next to Charles, glass of scotch in hand and smiles politely.

"Evening, Professor," he says in greeting, "Mind if I sit?"

Charles' smile brightened at Jack's presence. Ever since realizing Jack had a bit of an affinity for keeping out telepaths, his presence had been a welcome, slightly quieter one that Charles enjoyed. And their conversations were often interesting to say the least.

He might have avoided Jack a bit since that incident that had thrown the pair of them together rather suddenly, but it was not as if he was mortified by the actions. It had been an enjoyable night for both parties involved.

"Jack, not at all, it's a pleasure." He took his own glass, tilting it idly in his hand, and shifting to face Jack more, resting his weight on one arm on the bar.

"How has the island been treating you?"

"Well, I got to command a pirate ship. So that's new." Jack laughed and sipped at his drink. "What about you? I haven't heard a whole lot from you lately. I was getting a little worried about you, actually." He sets his glass down on the bar and leans upon it, taking a moment to study Charles' drawn face telling Jack that the man had something on his mind. But who didn't here?

"In fact, I haven't heard much from you or your friend since the protest he led."

"Erik has been... quiet." Of course, by quiet, Charles mainly means he has no idea what Erik is planning, if anything, for further actions against the island. He should,and he could, if he wanted to. The helmet is still safely hidden in his room, after all and he only feels the smallest twinge of guilt for that fact.

"And I have been preoccupied, new school year, after all. What about yourself, Jack? I have barely glimpsed you in the pub these past few months."

In Jack's experience, when someone is being watched, being "quiet" is never, ever a good thing. It's always so hard to determine what it is they're thinking, plotting, and deciding. "He's got himself a new home," Jack notes, eyebrow raised in Charles' direction, hoping that the handsome professor could shed some light on the situation.

"I've been busy myself. Being kidnapped and doing renovations. Busy work, you know?"

"I had meant to ask how you were doing... after all of that. But you seemed like you needed some time with your friends."

Charles took a drink of the bitter liquor and let his thoughts reluctantly drift back to Erik. He had been trying not to think about him tonight, but it would seem he was not going to have that option.

"I do not blame him for not wanting to live somewhere assigned. His history... But no, Jack, right now he does not seem to be making any further immediate plans against the island." Charles would not tell Jack about the restless unease he had been sensing from Erik lately. People were still on edge about the other mutant and Charles would not allow them to prove any of Erik's thoughts right with their suspicions.

Jack was a man of action, and action would only spur Erik into reaction, and the cycle that starts that way spirals endlessly out of control until people were hurt or killed and compounded on itself until there were all out fights, possibly a war, if Erik were involved. He had glimpsed now for certain the kind of extent Erik was willing to go to, and he did not want to see things come to that.

Not while he still believed he could reason with Erik and talk him out of violent acts against the island or its inhabitants.

Jack found it a relief that Charles didn't seem to be expecting anything big anytime soon. Surely he would alert someone after the last incident in which The Doctor got shot. "Good. I'm glad to hear that. He was something of a concern after he hurt one of my friends." A sip from his glass later, and his expression was a little darker, a little more serious. "That usually isn't something that I have a history of taking very well to."

That was Jack's warning, and as soon as he set his glass down, his demeanor seemed to cheer right back up. "But he's only partly why I wanted to talk to you tonight. The other part was you, actually. I wanted to sort of ask you about how you've been doing. What sort of things you have going on."

Conrad has gotten better at reading people's moods since taking over the bar, and he especially knows the moods of his regulars. That smile means Charles is going to be ordering more than Conrad thinks he should tonight, so he makes a mental note to make sure any drinks Nathan fixes Charles are weaker than normal.

"You doing okay, Charles?"

Charles smoothes a hand through his hair and sets the other on his glass, looking at the bar before looking back to the man who perhaps knew him a little too well. A sign Charles should have taken for what it was. Too many nights spent in the pub. He didn't bother though, just smiled again and shook his head.

"Another year. I can hardly believe I have been here for 12 months." Conrad had been here longer than he had, he realized he had never bothered to really talk about it. But Erik had a point, whether Charles agreed with his methods or not.

This place was very wrong, and they did need to find a way to get off of it.

"I'm as well as any one might expect. Just homesick, I suppose."

They've been together on this island for a fairly long time, really, and Charles can still hardly believe this man is Sherlock Holmes, but if he is, then he has to be brilliant, and Charles just can not resist the urge to meet him any longer.

Truthfully the thing that has kept him from doing so for such a long time was the island's tendency to make everyone lose their mind. During at least one of those occasions he had taken over John Watson's mind and forced him into some rather embarrassing acts just to prove a point, and well, island 'shenanigans' or not, he still had a bit of guilt over the actions of his 'other' self.

He knocked lightly on the door, wondering if he should have brought some kind of gift along with him, but he disregarded the thought. He had no cases to offer but a bit of conversation could be a nice turn of events with someone like Sherlock, and maybe he should finally apologize properly to John?

Though Sherlock deduces that the knock on the door is not that of a potential client, he also grudgingly accepts that with the amount of -- wild variation in the island population, his data isn't necessarily as reliable as it is in London. Still, he hates answering the door when he doesn't have too -- but a quick glance around indicates that John isn't in the flat to begin with, leaving him with the choice to either ignore it or get up himself. With nothing else to do, he finally pulls open the door.

His gaze flicks over the man in the hall -- once, then twice to confirm, which is an extra second he hates having to spend, but again, given the unusual inhabitants, is necessary -- and says, flatly and unimpressed, "You don't have a case."

Charles had settled into the break lounge at the University between two of his classes for a break from the endless bombardment of young adult minds. Very few ever truly focused on the lectures, and it was a bit distracting at times, even for him. Of course he had always known to expect this, and really, if he wanted to he could block the noise out, but it was just much easier in a quieter place like this.

Bruce is new to the staff this year, and Charles, being the social person he likes to try to be, decides it is about time he actually met the other scientist. So when he catches sight of Dr. Banner he gets up to greet the man with a charming smile and a warm handshake.

"Dr. Banner, isn't it? Charles Xavier. Welcome to the University."

With the pirate adventure over, Bruce was glad to get back onto dry land, where the risk that he might drown an entire ship full of people was decidedly less. The frequent craziness of the island was actually starting to become as much of a routine as was living in close quarters with other people and having a normal job again--though the teaching was highly preferable to being at risk of things like scurvy and naval warfare.

Like Charles, he was in between classes; grabbing a bite to eat while grading a few lab reports. Various bits of thoughts were passing through his mind--the troubling disappearances that continued to plague the island, whatever project he was working on in the Tower with Tony, the horrible report he had looked at last; as well as the ever-present anger looming just below the surface, embodied by the Hulk.

When the other professor introduced himself, Bruce shook his hand with a friendly smile. "Thanks. I've been out of the classroom for a while.. but if I'm going to be stuck here, then I'm glad the opportunity came up."

Edited (derp) 2012-09-27 02:30 (UTC)

Charles had made at the least conversational acquaintances with most of the other staff,but Bruce was a fascinating subject of interest for him. A fellow scientist and 'fictional' resident of the island, Charles had developed an instant interest in learning more about his new coworker.

As they shook hands, Charles couldn't resist the urge to skim the other man's mind and the thoughts that lay just below the surface were intriguing to say the least. He had to fight the urge to dive in deeper, when he could see nothing of the rush of anger he had felt in Dr. Banner's expression.

"This is my first actual teaching job, to be honest. I had only just become a professor before finding myself here. Still, some of the students are very engaging. It is refreshing." His smile spoke nothing of his depression from the previous year or the sense of foreboding that came with the knowledge that he would likely loose a large portion of his students again. He still felt the ache of wondering where they were and if they were all right when the island never allowed for warning or any true sense of closure. One minute they were there, and the next, they were gone.

"I suppose we are both making the best of the opportunities allowed us, as they say."

Erik had left his dinner and date drunk and discouraged, and with the outward appearance of maudlin, paused by the island's main cemetery on his way back to the Saucer. Half-hidden on the inland side of town, where the city faded to empty suburbia, he had not guessed it existed until his senses fixed on a weight of metal, at the end of a tree-shaded cul-de-sac, and circled by a wrought-iron fence.

It was a backhoe, sitting quietly on the edge of the graveyard near a freshly dug row of a half-dozen graves, yawning emptily. Seeing it, thinking about it, his dark mood darkened further.

Charles always seemed to have an awareness of Erik's presence and mood that was not wholly intentional. It was as if his mind had found and formed a link with the other mutant he could never fully bring himself to sever. In fact, when it had been severed entirely he had found himself missing it as much as he missed his connection to Raven.

Lately Erik seemed to be agitated and restless often, but it was hard for Charles to miss the change in the tone of his thoughts this evening. He had slipped out of his dorm to go looking for his friend when he sensed them taking a rather sharp turn into darker territories.

It was selfish the way he held tightly onto the connection he had, and while he did do his best not to be intrusive, he was always connected to Erik's mind in some way.

"Bit of a morbid location for a nightly stroll." His hands were settled loosely in his pockets when he finally located Erik in the graveyard, his glance drifting around the dreary location.

He resisted the urge to dig deeper into the other man's mind and find what he was looking for, coming to a stop a few feet from him. As much as he wanted to see what Erik was thinking,he always stayed just far enough out of his thoughts to keep his presence in the others' mind from being ~~obvious~~ intrusive.

"Checking up on me, Charles?" His voice was bitter, but in an amused sort of way, unless that was simply the drunkenness. He stayed facing away.

"Tell me. Do you keep this close a watch on everyone?" He gestured at the open graves. "Because I think it's plain. I am not the danger here."

Charles expected the bitterness, even anger. He knew how Erik felt about having the telepath, or anyone, in his head. But Charles was not here out of concern for what Erik might do to the island, whatever the other mutant might think. At least, it was never the main reason, even if it hovered at the back of his mind.

"Checking up on my friend, when he chooses to take a stroll through a graveyard? Yes, I suppose I am. Though not, I imagine, for the reasons you might think." Charles let his gaze move to the empty graves awaiting the newest casualties to another of the islands strange and unpredictable shifts to the unexpected and apparently violent. Yes. He was all too aware of how dangerous the island could be.

Erik might have been surprised to know just how much of the island Charles did try to keep a close watch on. Then again, given Erik's apparent opinions of him, perhaps not all that surprised.

"Another unfortunate and confusing turn of events that only makes this island all the more difficult to understand." Sometimes he tried to seek out the minds of the people n charge, other times he sought out any trace of telepathic tampering with his memories. In both cases he came up empty and no closer to understanding what was taking place here than he had been when he arrived nearly a year ago.

"Nearly a year since my arrival here, and I am no closer to understanding this island, or what happens here, than I was when I arrived."

"Really." he drew the word out and then let it drop.

"I think I'm beginning to understand it all too well," he said, after a moment. "And I misjudged it. Look at the dates, Charles. Look at the number of them. Then tell me -- since coming to this island, how many people have you seen die? And how many of them have been fictional?"

"I have seen many people die here. Or vanish. Some of them fictional, some of them more often than once. I have been here for twelve months, Erik. And I have seen impossible and bewildering things happen, even to myself."

Charles dropped his head a moment, taking a breath. He looked up again and his brows were knit together slightly.

"But I think I know what you are trying to say and... I can not honestly say I have ever seen someone who was labelled as 'fictional' die... and stay dead. They vanish, and we either never see them again or they return with no recollections, no memories of this place."

He was not going to bother not admitting it. He looked Erik in the eyes, expression solemn.

"And I do mean that. Even people known to have been here before, they do not just seem to be unable to remember it. The memories are not there at all."

There was a brittle look on Erik's face.

"Whatever their purpose here, Charles, they're keeping us as safe as they can. Safer than they keep their own." He flung a hand out at the open graves, heated and bitter.

He was not used to being wrong.

"It isn't the natives against the immigrants here. It's simpler. The powerful against the weak. Those who have the power of gods against those without it. Unless we find that the scientists who feed rats into thi maze are trapped themselves. In which case..."

In which case, there was only one way to test the theory. Kill one of them. If he stayed dead, then it was yet simpler,. Everyone within the bubble against everyone outside of it.

Kaylee had been meaning to visit Professor Xavier for a long time, but it seemed like one thing or the other kept getting in the way- most recently being the whole pirate thing. However, he'd always seemed to look out for her, and she had promised to have tea with him sometime, so one afternoon when she was free, she came to his office at the school and knocked, a thermos of tea under her arm and a bag of cookies she'd baked in one hand.

"Professor? It's Kaylee. Ya got time for that tea I been promising you?"

Office Hours

Actual Office Hours : Tim

Re: Actual Office Hours : Tim

no subject

no subject

The Nancing Phony: Conrad, Jack, Open to other pub threads

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Re: The Nancing Phony: Conrad, Jack, Open to other pub threads

no subject

221P Pastry Maker Street ...I mean.. John and Sherlock's flat

no subject

Teacher's Lounge?

no subject

no subject

Lacegrand Cemetery, at dusk

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

Charles' office