Marvel: Ronan/Charles Who: Ronan Xander and Charles Xavier What: Telepath party! Where: X-Mansion When: Recent, a few days after this conversation.
[In theory, Ronan couldn't really afford the fare of the cab that had taken him out to Westchester. He had what was left of his most recent paycheck after giving Ben his share of the rent (rather, the absurdly low number that his roommate would reluctantly agree to take from him), and the money he'd made in tips last week. The funds in his bank account were dwindling, as it'd been a few months since he'd spoken to his parents - knowing that they'd insist on sending him money that he had no desire to accept. So it was with the uncomfortable knowledge that he'd have to beg for a few double shifts at the diner that he'd slipped into the back seat of the yellow taxi, relieved to discover that the driver wasn't one for small talk and that his thoughts came in the low, soft buzz of an Eastern European language that Ronan didn't recognize. It was actually kind of soothing, and he'd felt some of the tension slipping out of his muscles as he closed his eyes and sank back against the cool leather of the seat. He felt exhausted pretty much constantly ever since the pulse had happened, even without working long hours. The effort that was required to not completely lose his shit while being bombarded by the noise and unformed images of others' thoughts was seriously draining, and he went to bed with a throbbing headache most nights.
The afternoon was overcast, and the air was blissfully cool against Ronan's skin as he stepped out of the cab onto the gravel drive that led up to the mammoth building, with a considerably lighter wallet sitting in the back pocket of his jeans. He supposed he should go up and ring the bell, or knock, or something. Instead he just stood in place and stared, craning his neck as he tried to take in the whole magnificence of the mansion at once.]