Opticx

“I’m always prepared for either eventuality, I am just aware that one is far more likely than the other,” Charles smirked. There were very few people that had beaten Charles fairly in a game of chess and Scott, certainly, was not one of them. Not that Scott didn’t have a fantastic mind but Charles had been pushing knights and pawns around for as long as he could remember.

Reaching for his own drink, he sipped before he turned his attention back to the board. “If you are referring to my telepathy, where would the fun be if I read your mind?” 

Scott curses that fateful day Charles had offered to teach him to play. Teaching your student a game you knew he would spend the next decade failing to beat you in: what a move. Would have to remember that one. Scott thought all of this rather pointedly at the other. Just to check if he was listening. 

“Beneath all those morals and good wishes, you’re like me.” Scott said, taking out a pawn with the knight. Or, was it more accurate to say he was like Charles. “You like winning.” said with a lazy grin as he leaned back in his chair and awaited the inevitable. Curse this game. “Not that I care but have the others ever beaten you?” 

Thanks for taking the time to let me know. Appreciate it bud. 

It was a fair point and one that Marcos didn’t bother to argue with – most of the people they took in had the same mentality… and for good reason. Sentinel Services had no regard for mutant life, not when it came to anyone they viewed as a threat. Nodding at those words, he made his way over to the corner to grab a water bottle, cracking open the top and lifting it to take a drink… before pausing. The muscles in his chest tightened a little with worry, alarm bells going off in his head at the ask. “Depends…” he replied after a moment, choosing his words carefully, “Why are you asking?” Thankfully, she was off on a reconnaissance mission with John to recover a small family that had managed to hide from the police, putting Marcos in charge.

“So that’s a yes.” Scott noted drily. He didn’t miss the sudden tension in the air, nor Marcos’ defensive tone. He knew her, likely knew her well and perhaps, felt protective over her. “Good. Getting a little tired of running after people here. Does she still have green hair, short little thing?” Hands folded in his lap as Scott appeared to inspect his surroundings. “Because I need to speak to her. Personal, family matter. She used to know someone close to me. That good enough for you?”

And here we go again. Honestly, was it THAT hard to believe Erik wasn’t as a w f u l as he made himself out to be? At one time, he had a wife and a kid; a family that was ripped apart during the war. Erik suffered from one of the worst cases of PTSD that Charles had ever seen, but Erik was also rather gifted at compartmentalizing. It was nothing for him to shut down and focus on his goals which weren’t exactly rooted in goodness these days.

Charles rolled his eyes. ❝I already told you — Moira fired the shot. Erik deflected it into my back on accident. I am not… holding grudges about the chair. I am holding grudges because I thought what we had built here once meant more than his revenge. Apparently not so it is what it is Scott. We are done having this conversation too because there is not much else to say on the matter anyway.❞

There was a sort of finality to his tone that suggested Scott should leave it be. Talking about Erik was doing little to cure the telepath’s mood. If anything, it was making it worse so he opted to change the subject. The less time he spent dwelling on the past, the better.

❝Anyway, aside from your incessant need to comment on my relationship status, why else are you here? Surely Hank told you the school was closed. He saw fit to tell you everything else. The least he could have done was tell you the important matters.❞

Charles’ ongoing defence of an indefensible man frustrated Scott to no end. And he made no secret of that fact. 

“We need to go after him. Bring Magneto to justice. The world needs to see that we can police our own, or they will do it for us - and then we’ll be next. People are watching the news and seeing this mutie abuse his powers, spread hate and threatening their way of life. Guess who they’re going to turn to. The weird kid in their class with wings, or the guy from accounting who happens to breathe fire.” 

Scott knew it would not improve Charles’ mood. But he wasn’t here to cheer the man up. Charles had taught him right from wrong and to do what was necessary. This, was he deemed necessary. 

“I’m here because the world needs the X-men, and they need to see us bring Magneto down.” 

“Hope you’re ready to lose, Chuck.” 

Scott’s fingers hovered over the black knight on the board, red eyes studying his opponent as he did so. It was a fool’s errand to play games with a telepath, much less gauge reactions from one. Although sometimes it worked with Jean: sweet, expressive Jeannie could never hide from him. Charles, on the other hand, could be a smug bastard. And that was all Scott got. Grumbling under his breath, his hand retreated and reached for the whisky glass instead. The smoky flavour drowned out what was starting to taste like defeat. God he hates losing. Especially to Charles.

“Ya know- Warren swears up and down you cheat when you play.” Scott said, slumping back into the chair. The words were strung together, with a fond smile as he sipped on his drink.

“Look, I know you’re not used to it yet, but we’re safe here. Sentinel Services doesn’t know about this place - we wouldn’t be here if they did. You can relax.” It wasn’t a new concern, especially from those so used to war. “Do you want a drink?”

“Heard that one before- usually right before the sentinels come knocking.” Summers gave a dry smile. Weariness made him short, or, shorter than usual. Snark was not befitting of a leader; as had been drilled into him over the years. But then again, he was leader of nothing and no-one at the minute. Not a single soul he knew was here, only vague allusions to some terrible event. “Marcos, right. You’re running this operation?” he probed flatly, and nodded his head gratefully at the offer. “What do you know about a girl called Lorna Dane?”