By the time the knock on the door came, Erik was out of bed and standing by the window, looking out at the property like he wasn't sure if this was just a dream, and he was still on that table in that hellhole of a camp, imagining his entire life. It was much easier to believe that what he saw was reality when he wasn't living in a fucking mansion with an eccentric Brit and a spattering of barely legal super-powered children.
He was planning on feigning sleep and letting whatever kid that had the nerve to knock on his door this late go to Charles for help, but at the Oxford accented voice, he knew attempting to spend some time alone was a lost cause. "Verdammt Telepathen," he muttered. "Kümmere dich um deine eigenen Angelegenheiten." The sentence was out before he even realized he hadn't yet switched out of the language his dreams rarely strayed from. Or, his nightmares, really.
It was just as well that he was thinking in a language he doubted Charles would've given time to study, though, since he wasn't in the mood for dealing with an affronted Charles on top of the overbearing sympathy he was doubtlessly about to be greeted with. Regardless, Erik couldn't just leave him out in the hallway, especially since he was a guest, and Charles could technically go wherever he pleased, so without turning from the window, he unlatched the lock and pushed the handle to let the door swing open of its own accord. When he felt it was open a sufficient amount, he spoke.
"Charles, what a pleasant surprise." From his tone one could deduce that the surprise wasn't pleasant at all, though of course, Charles didn't need such base, primitive functions as tone of voice to know exactly what he meant. An extraordinary man. Finally, he turned towards his companion. "If you were aiming for a midnight snack, you're a little off the mark, wouldn't you agree?"
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2011-06-17 10:56 am (UTC)He was planning on feigning sleep and letting whatever kid that had the nerve to knock on his door this late go to Charles for help, but at the Oxford accented voice, he knew attempting to spend some time alone was a lost cause. "Verdammt Telepathen," he muttered. "Kümmere dich um deine eigenen Angelegenheiten." The sentence was out before he even realized he hadn't yet switched out of the language his dreams rarely strayed from. Or, his nightmares, really.
It was just as well that he was thinking in a language he doubted Charles would've given time to study, though, since he wasn't in the mood for dealing with an affronted Charles on top of the overbearing sympathy he was doubtlessly about to be greeted with. Regardless, Erik couldn't just leave him out in the hallway, especially since he was a guest, and Charles could technically go wherever he pleased, so without turning from the window, he unlatched the lock and pushed the handle to let the door swing open of its own accord. When he felt it was open a sufficient amount, he spoke.
"Charles, what a pleasant surprise." From his tone one could deduce that the surprise wasn't pleasant at all, though of course, Charles didn't need such base, primitive functions as tone of voice to know exactly what he meant. An extraordinary man. Finally, he turned towards his companion. "If you were aiming for a midnight snack, you're a little off the mark, wouldn't you agree?"