#smartcss

if something happens am i welcome back

“Why didn’t you tell him?”

A casual question, despite the relative seriousness of the subject matter. Frankly, she’s too tired to force any sentimentality into it; it’s curious, and little more. He’d had time to -- metal and telekinesis sped the process along well enough, but rebuilding a mansion from the ground up still took up substantial time. Any of the dozens of awkward silences could have been used to pull someone aside and speak. 

And, of course, there had been those awful minutes talking at Erik through that field, when choking out the truth might have proven useful. They’d been far too busy at the time to discuss it, and the time following had been focused on rebuilding, settling, and in her own case, preparing to adopt the lifestyle of a field leader and teacher. Busy, but rife with opportunities for father-son chats. 

bc we all know the truth

“You have decided to stay then?” Quiet syllables barely carry even the scant few meters that separate them. Cerulean hues, bright in the evening light that shimmers through his office’s bay window. “You can, you know.” The Professor’s smirk smile is lopsided, but it is there.

Clever digits quest for the crystalline glass of ambrosia (scotch, Charles, do try to refrain from dramatization) and upward the telepath lofts it for a brief sip. Only then does he peer across the solid oak desk at Peter.

hug me professor