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it's a Hollywood summer
Dec. 8th, 2013 03:55 pmDespite an investment of time and effort and a great deal of Charles's persuasive sweet-talking, in the end it had been for nothing. The mutant had listened to their pitch, but he'd been skeptical from the outset, and none of the answers they'd given to any of his questions had changed his mind. He'd thanked them politely and declined the CIA's offer just as politely, and gone on his way alone.
So now they were empty-handed for the second time in a row-- though at least the surly man in Toronto had done them the courtesy of telling them to fuck off right away, rather than let them waste an evening in his doubtlessly unpleasant company.
Still, it was a failure, and (Erik guessed) in an effort to avoid calling Moira to admit as much, Charles had announced that they were going out. Erik had protested that these outings were never as much fun as Charles promised they would be, but it made about as much difference as usual: that is to say, none at all. He found himself shepherded first to one bar and then another, and by the time he realized it was after midnight they were being shown to a corner booth in a little diner that smelled of coffee and fried things, "Runaround Sue" playing softly on the jukebox in the corner.
Erik shrugged out of his jacket before sliding into the bench, ordering a coffee with barely a glance at the waitress, studying the menu while Charles took five minutes to flirt his way into a cup of tea. When she'd gone, Erik glanced up to find Charles looking at him with the smug, all-knowing expression that had grown so annoyingly familiar over the past few weeks.
Emphasis on annoying-- Erik reminded himself that he had refused to let himself be charmed by Charles, especially when he was like this, tipsy and flushed with his shirt sleeves rolled up, grinning at Erik like they shared the best secret in the world.
There was no point in even noticing, Erik told himself sternly. Charles was like this with everyone.
But Charles kept grinning at him, and eventually Erik raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk even though he didn't know what could possibly be so amusing. "What?"
So now they were empty-handed for the second time in a row-- though at least the surly man in Toronto had done them the courtesy of telling them to fuck off right away, rather than let them waste an evening in his doubtlessly unpleasant company.
Still, it was a failure, and (Erik guessed) in an effort to avoid calling Moira to admit as much, Charles had announced that they were going out. Erik had protested that these outings were never as much fun as Charles promised they would be, but it made about as much difference as usual: that is to say, none at all. He found himself shepherded first to one bar and then another, and by the time he realized it was after midnight they were being shown to a corner booth in a little diner that smelled of coffee and fried things, "Runaround Sue" playing softly on the jukebox in the corner.
Erik shrugged out of his jacket before sliding into the bench, ordering a coffee with barely a glance at the waitress, studying the menu while Charles took five minutes to flirt his way into a cup of tea. When she'd gone, Erik glanced up to find Charles looking at him with the smug, all-knowing expression that had grown so annoyingly familiar over the past few weeks.
Emphasis on annoying-- Erik reminded himself that he had refused to let himself be charmed by Charles, especially when he was like this, tipsy and flushed with his shirt sleeves rolled up, grinning at Erik like they shared the best secret in the world.
There was no point in even noticing, Erik told himself sternly. Charles was like this with everyone.
But Charles kept grinning at him, and eventually Erik raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk even though he didn't know what could possibly be so amusing. "What?"
