With a graceless clatter that felt even more out of place after Charles's unflappability, Erik pulled out a chair and settled himself into it, stiff and upright and with his elbows tucked neatly onto the chair's arms. Jordan sprawled easily beside him, her loose posture a direct contrast to his obvious nerves.
"I haven't seen you in months," he said to Charles, hearing as the words left his mouth that they sounded more accusing than the polite observation he was attempting. Softening his tone, he added, "How's New York?"
He'd been asking after the school, but it wasn't the mansion he thought of, the city suddenly looming large in his memory. They'd stayed there just the one night before finding Darwin, and he'd barely bothered to protest before letting Charles drag him out to dinner, to a club, to several martinis more than he'd ever have drunk under normal circumstances. Russia hadn't been far off, then; he'd been on fire with wanting Charles, torturing himself with it, and that night was a hazy buzz of arousal and color in his memory. He'd almost given in and made a move, and damn the consequences— couldn't remember, now, why he hadn't. Two weeks later it had all been moot, anyway, but the memory stood out nevertheless; one more missed opportunity.
Erik realized he was letting his mind wander and snapped the train of thought off as fast as he could, glancing at Jordan with a thin smile. "Someday the hotel will let me out so I can take you for a visit. New York in the '60s— it's a singular experience."
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Date: 2015-04-06 08:47 pm (UTC)"I haven't seen you in months," he said to Charles, hearing as the words left his mouth that they sounded more accusing than the polite observation he was attempting. Softening his tone, he added, "How's New York?"
He'd been asking after the school, but it wasn't the mansion he thought of, the city suddenly looming large in his memory. They'd stayed there just the one night before finding Darwin, and he'd barely bothered to protest before letting Charles drag him out to dinner, to a club, to several martinis more than he'd ever have drunk under normal circumstances. Russia hadn't been far off, then; he'd been on fire with wanting Charles, torturing himself with it, and that night was a hazy buzz of arousal and color in his memory. He'd almost given in and made a move, and damn the consequences— couldn't remember, now, why he hadn't. Two weeks later it had all been moot, anyway, but the memory stood out nevertheless; one more missed opportunity.
Erik realized he was letting his mind wander and snapped the train of thought off as fast as he could, glancing at Jordan with a thin smile. "Someday the hotel will let me out so I can take you for a visit. New York in the '60s— it's a singular experience."