http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I7R-PSvvziU&ob=av2e so everyone should listen while they read this
Speaking of moderation, and people who had none of it, Erik put his hands on the table and looked over them at Jubilee. "I'm calling them," he said simply, of Reserves metaphorical or otherwise. "That's why you all have a choice. No one is being drafted."
It hadn't been his first instinct to summon a team meeting immediately either; he was entirely used to functioning as a one man army, and facing down an entire ...planet full of motherships fazed him very little. This behavior wasn't foolhardy so much as it was borderline suicidal, and that was why it had to change. He had people depending on him these days, people who for reasons he didn't want to quantify looked to him to behave like someone who could at least keep them alive, if not lead them. Leading was Charles' job, as far as he was concerned, and so making an effort to smooth over what he'd said or make it more diplomatic didn't really happen. "I've already woken up to find myself in the middle of a war that started without me," he finished, expression unchanging. "Once is enough."
He paused for some private reason and curled his hands around his coffee cup, a few pieces of scattered cutlery on the table flowing into formless liquid and conforming back to their original shapes. "But we're not at war. As Charles will tell you."
'Not yet,' hung in the air like a subtitle. It was on this note that he raised his mug and looked over it at Laura. "Staying or leaving?"