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Tweak says, "what's this, a missile launch?"

Charles Xavier (bethebettermen) wrote in colligo_threads,
@ 2012-01-26 14:30:00

Entry tags:

charles xavier, irene adler

Who: Charles Xavier and Irene Adler.
What: Tea and chess. Really. >.>
Where: Irene's brownstone.
When: Seven in the evening, Wednesday night.
Rating: TBD. Quite possibly high.
Status: In progress.

Charles hesitated briefly as he approached the address Miss Adler had given him. Growing up as he had, in a rather repressive upper class environment, he'd never really felt comfortable with being open about sexuality. Yes, he could be quite frank with his interest, but he hardly discussed the particulars of such things. And, though he used his telepathy to know what his partners and ensure were enjoying themselves, his sex life had still largely been what one would consider vanilla. Not to mention he hadn't allowed himself to be intimate with anyone since the incident in Cuba. In some ways he still felt somewhat disconnected from his body, but perhaps that was simply because he'd always been a very cerebral person and his condition had only intensified that. The point was, he'd never really understood the idea of dominatrices. His mother had looked down on anyone who had done such "base work", and his stepfather would never have approved, if only because it was a woman taking control and having power over the situation.

But he wasn't going to Irene - Miss Adler, he corrected himself mentally - because she was a dominatrix. He wasn't. She was simply an intriguing woman who left him feeling terribly curious. And there was some level of fascination with her career, but that was more because of the novelty of it. It was something new and different and he was terribly curious about the sort of woman who would gravitate to such a profession. And then, of course, there was the fact that Charles had always been something of a fan of Arthur Conan Doyle. And this, from what he had seen of the networks, truly was Irene Adler. A modern version, but Irene Adler nonetheless. He had always been intrigued by the only woman to best Sherlock Holmes. Meeting her, in any incarnation, was something not to be missed.

He could admit, if only in the privacy of his own mind, that part of him was intrigued by what she might have to offer. He had to constantly hold himself in complete control, a downside of his power, and the idea of letting go and putting someone else in a position of control was a tempting one. But Charles had never been good at letting go, and the prospect was as intimidating as it was attractive. He shook off the thought as premature, not something he needed to consider, and knocked on the door. A professional, non-descript young woman answered the door and showed him to a sitting room, telling him that Miss Adler would join him presently. Left alone in the room, he glanced around then took the chess board from under his arm and set it on the table. Then he sat down to wait, hands folded in his lap.

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letshavedinner
2012-01-26 11:24 pm UTC (link)

To say that Irene was looking forward to this meeting would be quite an understatement. Not only was Charles Xavier a name she recognised as being quite fictional in origin back home, which made her curious to meet him already, but all of the information she had been able to glean about him through her contacts in the city had been extremely interesting. Apparently he truly was a powerful telepath as he was in the comic books from her own reality. Not bound to a wheelchair, however, and not quite at an age where he avoided using his ability to achieve the upperhand in a situation. Well off, financially speaking, and from the part of society that hardly discussed sex in any great detail, especially the parts that she specialised in.

In short, he was the precise sort of male specimen that she had dealt with before, with an added bonus of being able to read her thoughts. Which only made it all the more fun, as far as she was concerned.

Knowing he would arrive at precisely seven o'clock, as it would simply be considered rude otherwise, she had instructed her most recent assistant to show him in. Much like her meeting with Sherlock, she had spent a good portion of the late afternoon attempting to decide what to wear and, again, as with her meeting with Sherlock, had finally decided on absolutely nothing. For one, it would make it much more difficult for him to feel in control should she arrive at their tea-and-chess meeting in the buff. For another, she really did want to gauge his reaction so she could best decide how to proceed. After all, there was sexually stifled and then there was sexually repressed to the point that possibly even she couldn't help. Best to determine where he felt on that spectrum before going any further.

With that thought in mind, Irene waited a few moments for him to have time to get at least a bit comfortable in the sitting room. Then she opened the door and calmly stepped inside, a light smile on her face and a tea tray held out before her.

"Good evening, Professor," she greeted him, nothing in her tone indicating anything was amiss in the slightest. Crossing to the table where he'd set the chessboard, she placed the tea tray beside it. "I trust you were able to find your way here without difficulty?"

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bethebettermen
2012-01-27 12:49 am UTC (link)

"It was not trouble at a-oh my..."

Charles had felt Irene's presence the moment she entered the room, but hadn't push farther. Both respect and propriety dictated he should wait until they had at least become acquainted before delving into her mind in any real capacity. Not that it really mattered. The second he turned to greet her, he was stunned to the point that he couldn't have found the focus to look into her thoughts. She was naked. Completely naked. Good lord. And he had thought it was bad when Raven had showed up naked that night in the kitchen. In some ways, that would always be worse because she was his sister, but at least her true form provided some natural coverage. This was entirely too much.

But he didn't allow his surprise and discomfort to show beyond his initial shock, too well practised at hiding his feelings behind a façade of calm politeness. He kept his eyes on her face, though he was well aware of exactly what she looked like. The image was burned into his mind and he could not deny that she was a lovely woman. But he kept his focus on her face, feeling as though he were facing some sort of test and that looking down would be akin to failing that test. He felt overwhelmed by the situation, never having dealt with someone so in control of her own sexuality and comfortable in her own skin. It was equal parts thrilling and intimidating, and he wasn't sure what to do in the face of that.

"Well then," he said, sounding calmer now, his tone not betraying his tumultuous emotions, "I suppose this is the battle dress you mentioned?" Of course, though he could fake calm well enough, it certainly did put him off balance. "Aren't you a bit cold, Miss Adler? I should hate for you to be uncomfortable."

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letshavedinner
2012-01-27 01:03 am UTC (link)

Oh, he was good. She would give him that much. Of course, she was better. Because as well as he could play at being calm, it didn't take someone with telepathy, or even Sherlock's level of observational skills, to know that he was anything but. And the fact that he'd initially reacted the way he had, coupled with the façade he'd carefully put up after the initial shock had worn off, was a good sign indeed.

Yes, Irene decided as she sat down in the chair across from him, she could certainly work with what he had to offer. It would take some time, of course, and carefully laid plans on her part, but she felt he was more than worth the challenge.

"Cold?" she echoed, smiling lightly as she positioned herself just so, covering the more exposed parts easily enough with a well placed arm and crossing of her legs. "No, I can't say I'm cold in the slightest. And yes, this is what I refer to as my battle dress. It suits me rather well, if I do say so myself." Leaning forward ever so slightly, her grin became a touch more predatorial than friendly. "And would you look at you. All that work at being in control and absolutely proper. It must be terribly exhausting when you haven't a clue what it is you're actually doing." She waited a bit then tipped her head toward the tray on the table between them.

"Would you care for a cup of tea?" she asked in a completely casual tone. There wasn't any pretending to be at ease on her part, no carefully worded statements. She was simply being herself, fully at ease with herself and the situation as a whole. She would, of course, agree to put on something to cover herself if he insisted, but she was hardly going to make the offer. No, if he wanted to not be face to face with her flagrant display of comfort in her own sexuality, he was going to have to work for it.

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bethebettermen
2012-01-27 05:45 am UTC (link)

He had rather hoped that she would at least put a robe on, but that didn't seem to be in the cards. At least not for the moment. He considered simply asking her to change for his sake rather than her own, but his mind kept going back to that confrontation with his sister. Though he knew that Irene likely had a stronger self image than Raven, he hardly wanted her to feel as if he was trying to make her feel ashamed of herself. It wouldn't work with Irene, but the insinuation would be there all the same. This was a matter of respect, and he could hardly disrespect her in her own home. In this instance, propriety worked against him. No, he could 'suck it up and deal' as the students often said.

"Then if you aren't cold, then it isn't a problem," he assured her. He flushed slightly when she brought up how it suited her, refraining from commenting on that. He didn't necessarily want to discuss that, or look more than was strictly necessary. She was lovely, there was absolutely no denying that, but he still wasn't entirely comfortable with her appearance at the moment. The flush became more pronounced when Irene pointed out how hard he was working at appearing in control and how little he truly knew. He wondered if this was how other felt when he could see inside them to the truth, because it felt like Irene was looking directly into the heart of him.

"I...yes...tea would be lovely, thank you," he said. Or something stronger. He was honestly more discomfited by her insight than her lack of clothes. He was quiet for a moment, and when he finally spoke it was with a mixture of curiosity and anxiety. "I suppose your profession gives you rather a lot of insight into people. Rather like a psychologist...only..." here he trailed off, hoping he wasn't sounding like an utter tit, "...more entertaining?" Lord, he was terrible at this. Utterly and absolutely terrible. He only hoped she would understand his point and not dwell on how terribly he had failed in expressing it.

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letshavedinner
2012-01-27 06:43 am UTC (link)

It wasn't often in Irene's choice of career that she took pity on someone. In fact, it had only happened a handful of times and those had really been more an instance of her playing the part solely to ease the person in question into a sense of security that she could later yank out from beneath them to make them far more vulnerable than they had ever felt before. Yet now, sitting across from a man who had spent the majority of his life believing he had to remain in complete control lest very terrible things happen, she felt herself actually, truly, and completely feeling sorry for him.

Was he rather terrible at trying to express himself when off kilter? Yes. Most definitely. However Irene was hardly going to acknowledge such a fact, nor offer a correction of his assessment in as harsh of a way as she might have with someone else. Instead she simply nodded as he spoke and offering him a faint, wistful sort of grin at what he had to say.

"I suppose you might put it that way," she conceded, even if that wasn't entirely the case. "It's certainly..." Her lips quirked. "Entertaining, as you put it." She paused for a brief moment, head tilting a bit in the faintest of considerations. "Of course, in order to be successful in my line of work, they must also be quite adept at making instantaneous discoveries of others with little more than a mere glance."

Finished pouring the tea, she studied him for a heartbeat or two. "You know," she commented idly, still locking her gaze with him rather than look away as others might in an attempt to lessen the reality of what she was about to say, "you really ought to focus more becoming in-tune with your body again, Charles. It's rather a glaringly obvious weakness of yours that could easily be exploited if one knew what they were doing." Her lips quirked upward a bit once more.

"Milk or sugar?" she asked, indicating the cups of tea she'd poured while making her observation.

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bethebettermen
2012-01-27 11:35 am UTC (link)

On some level, Charles understood exactly where Irene was coming from. Though he primarily relied on his telepathy, he had learned over the years to associate certain unconscious indicators with behaviours and truths, to the point that he didn't always need to use his telepathy to know. He supposed it was born from his interactions with Kurt and Cain. He become afraid of using his power around them, as if they would somehow know and hurt him for it, so he'd learned to recognise the other signs of impending violence. And, with time, that had expanded to other things.

But to have someone do the same to him was unsettling. He didn't like people to know him, to see all the flaws and failings hidden beneath the surface. When people really knew him, they inevitably left. Even strangers who got too close just recognised something not quite right about him. That was the way it had always been, and he didn't anticipate it changing. He had settled into something approaching a content life here, but he held no illusions that it would remain that way. Sooner or later he would screw things up, as he always did, and drive them away. It had happened with Raven and with Erik, and it would happen again.

"I suppose that would help," he acknowledged, freezing as she turned that observation - that ability to know so much with just a glance - on him. Thankfully, she hadn't given him any tea yet, or he likely would have choked on it. As it was, it took him a long moment to respond. He hadn't spoken of this to anyone, but something about Irene made him want to talk about it. Maybe it was just the straightforward way she'd brought it up, blunt and to the point. Or maybe it was the calm and strength she seemed to wear about her that made him feel naked even though he was the one who was fully clothed. He wondered if that was why she called it her battle dress.

"I..." He paused and began again. "I was paralysed as you might know. I know that I'm fictional in many realities, so I wouldn't be the least surprised if you did. I was paralysed and ended up having my condition reversed here. But...I think a part of me is still in that chair. I want to...I want to move past it, but...I'm afraid that if I go back..." He sighed and shook his head. "It's ridiculous not to fully embrace this gift I've been given simply because I might lose it again one day, but feelings really are terribly illogical, don't you agree? Even though I know that I'm holding myself back by not...being in-tune with my body, as you say, I can't seem to push past the immediate emotional response."

He felt a little drained from that confession, but also better somehow. "One sugar and just a dash of milk," he said, glad to shift his focus to tea and not anything heavier. For the moment, at least.

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letshavedinner
2012-02-12 01:46 am UTC (link)

Irene didn't comment on his admission, simply filing the information away as she focused on pouring his tea and preparing it. In fact, it wasn't until she had handed him his cup and fixed her own, sitting back down and studying him over the steaming liquid, that she even spoke again. And when she did, it was in reference to something he'd said that wasn't precisely about his inability to truly appreciate being able to walk once more.

"Feelings are certainly illogical," she agreed mildly. "They've certainly been the cause of my own undoing on no less than one very important occasion, in fact." Taking a sip of her tea, she flashed him a small smile. "However, without them, I dare say the world would be a much less interesting place. All logic and control with very little in the way of fun, which is hardly any way for someone to live."

She didn't comment further, instead growing silent for a moment before asking simply, "Do you like the tea? It's a special blend of my own design. I've some a bit more common, if it's not to your liking." She flashed him a mischievous grin. "After all, not everyone is quite as keen on being as... adventurous as I am."

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bethebettermen
2012-02-13 05:07 pm UTC (link)

Charles was fairly relieved that Irene hadn't focused on his unplanned burst of honesty. He wasn't sure what he would have done if she had, to be quite honest. He wasn't the sort of person who was comfortable sharing that much of himself. He preferred to know more about the other person than they did about him, seeing that as a way of maintaining the power in a situation. But he couldn't do that with Irene. She was, in many ways, a mystery. She put him off balance and he was so unprepared for something like that that he was unsure how to even respond.

"They certainly are," he said quietly. He stopped for a moment, looking at Irene. "I must admit that I have a hard time imagining anything undoing you." It wasn't a line, it was entirely the truth. There was a strength to Irene and, more than that, there was something in the way she held herself that made it clear she was the one in control of any situation in which she found herself. It wouldn't be obvious to everyone, but he could see it in the set of her jaw and the line of her shoulders and so much else. It was fairly intimidating, meeting a woman so self-possessed. "I quite agree with you though. Emotions make life worth living. Logic and reason are all well and good, but without passion there is nothing to motivate us."

He took a sip of the tea and, after a considering pause, nodded his head. "It's nice," he said politely. "It's...different. Intense. Not at all what I expected. But I find that isn't a bad thing at all. In fact...I quite like it." There was something in his tone that suggested he wasn't really talking about the tea. Or not just the tea, in any case. "I'm afraid I've never been terribly good at being adventurous," he admitted. The weight of responsibility had always been too much to slip out from under, and the most adventure he'd ever had in his life had come after meeting Erik. "But...perhaps it's time that changed."

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