Who: Erik Lensherr and Jaime Davies What: Early morning chat. When: Sunday morn Where: The Xavier mansion in Westchester Warnings: None
There were chess boards scattered around the mansion. One in the study, another in the second floor hall between two student bedrooms, one in the kitchen pushed off to the very edge of the sideboard counter, and another two outside on the terrace and balcony overlooking the grounds. Each had a game in various states of play and though the words had never been spoke, the younger mansion residents knew that to touch any of them would result in two incredibly peeved guardians. It wasn't that Charles and Erik (Charles especially) wouldn't remember where the pieces had been on each board, but that they simply didn't want anyone disturbing the games.
Erik was outside early Sunday morning, staring at the board on the terrace table. It was only the game in the study that they ever sat down and played together. The others were in a constant state of flux and it was rare that either of them ever saw the other move a piece. There'd been a number of minor explosions coming from the underground facilities that morning, and Erik could only assume that Charles was working with one of the other students. For his part, Erik had managed to make his way from the bedroom to the kitchen to the terrace without speaking to anyone that morning. He was more than alright with that and was enjoying his sparse breakfast, newspaper, and chessboard in peace. He would make his move eventually, after studying the board a bit, and the next time Charles made his way out here he would have something to entertain him.
After eyeing the board for another moment, Erik turned back to the paper at his side. He didn't venture down into Manhattan very often (it had been a long while since he'd trusted normal humans, much less an entire island full of them), and it was interesting to read about the recently wild things happening in the city. The students were there more often than he was, and while he knew most of them could take care of themselves, it seemed as if there were still reasons to worry for their safety. (A worry that he would never directly confess aloud, as then it might seem as if he cared.) He reached for his coffee as his eyes scanned over a story about a woman claiming to have been attacked by a werewolf. For a man who could control magnetic forces who lived with children who could do a host of other miraculous things, he was incredibly skeptical as he read the article. If he hadn't known better he could have assumed he was reading a gossip magazine rather than the Daily Planet.
He glanced back over at the board, folding the paper in his hands and setting it down in his lap. One hand hovered over a bishop while the other reached for a piece of toast. The game was in its early stages and there were a multitude of possible moves.