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[balancingminds]

His conversations with Gene and Guppy have left Charles worried about Autor.

What he's doing is familiar as Charles spent a good part of his childhood observing and listening as he tried to figure out what to say, what he shouldn't say and how to not be thought mad. What helped him the most was Raven who would point out when he was being strange and rude. Though he also was willing to listen because he knew that people didn't like him and wanted them to.

He takes another sip of his Scotch and listens to Milliways with a search for any thoughts of Autor as he flips through the Sunday New York Times

(OOC: Charles is more actively listening than he normally does. Please add thoughts in narration and if they are thinking about Autor but not focusing with Charles, feel free to tag the thoughts in. Then Charles may come and talk to them. All threads happen before the one with Autor. Thank you.)

Comments

[damncompass]

Joshua is sitting curled up on a sofa, basically radiating un-dealt-with pain. His thoughts are jumbled, from his parents to Claudia, to an old girlfriend, to work, to a lost Artifact. It's... not a pretty sight.

[ooc: This is one of those 'Charles would probably not miss Joshua' tags. He's... full of pain right now. Sorry?]

[balancingminds]

When he feels how much Joshua is hurting, Charles stands up and walks over to sit beside him, close enough to hug,

"Joshua?"

[damncompass]

"hey." It's about half of half of half of the enthusiasm that he usually has. He just reaches over and attaches. "been a long week."

[balancingminds]

Charles shifts his arm to hug Joshua, "Tell me about it."

[damncompass]

"Work literally exploded, as in some of the anti-matter exploded, I'm in panic mode on my dissertation, and I got my Artifact that I was researching stolen." He sighs. "And on top of all of that, all of the loss that I've been ignoring for ages just exploded. I... hate the beginning of May."

Charles would probably find the memories in the front of Joshua's mine: May 11th, 1997, when he disappeared, and then the same weekend in May three years previously when his parents died.

[balancingminds]

"I'll help you with your dissertation, we'll work through it together. I'm sorry, I'm here and you need to acknowledge your hurt,"

He hugs Joshua tighter, projecting calm and safety.

[damncompass]

"I know I do." He sighs, very shakily, clinging to Charles. "I... I've never actually cried for my parents before this morning."

[balancingminds]

"Oh Joshua, holding your grief in isn't healthy."

[damncompass]

"I know, and Claud's been griping at me since she was seven about it." He sighs. "I just didn't feel like I had the time or the energy or the... anything." And for some reason, the shit week just made everything explode. "I think I'm actually mostly dealing now. Honestly."

[lyricaltokarev]

If he's looking for someone who is thinking of Autor, he'll certainly find one young lady whose thoughts have a tendency to drift in that direction. She's a cheerful-looking blonde teenager, dressed in red and white, with a heart-shaped pendant around her neck.

There's a cup of green tea on her table, as well as a collection of fresh daisies. She appears to be braiding the flowers into a crown, and humming to herself a little as she does so. Her thoughts, as much as Charles might be able to tell, match her outward mood -- happy and content, with warm flickers of delight at the memory of a young man's shy, genuine smile.

(Let's just say that for now, they're overriding any memories of a hate-filled glare. Not that she would be upset with a memory of that nature -- quite the contrary, in fact.)


[OOC: Tagging may be a bit sporadic this evening, but I'll do my best to keep on top of the thread!]

[balancingminds]

Her thoughts are positive and nice, so as he stands up to get another drink, he stops at her table,

"That's beautiful."

[lyricaltokarev]

She looks up, pleased at the compliment on her handiwork.

"Oh, thank you!" She picks up a fresh daisy, twirling the flower on its stem. "I saw them when I was outside earlier, and I thought I'd see if I could remember how to make a flower crown. I think I have enough to work with here -- it's been a while since I made one."

Everything about her is pleasant and polite...though the odd staring eye motif on her pendant, and on the red headband that holds back her hair, might be a trifle unsettling. (Some cultures do wear similar designs as protections against the evil eye, though, so it might well be normal for her.)

[balancingminds]

They are interesting and Charles isn't sure of what to make of them but he hopes to learn in time,

"You seem to be doing quite well with them. Your memory is clearly good."

[lyricaltokarev]

Punie's smile turns a little shy. "I was thinking that I'd have enough to make one each for my little sisters...but I kind of want to keep this one for myself. Which is really childish, and I ought to be old enough to know better...." She trails off, almost embarrassed, but then adds quickly, "Though I can always go pick more, if I need to. These are wildflowers from outside, not ones from the greenhouse."

At the word greenhouse, there's another pleasant flicker of memory.

[balancingminds]

"No, it doesn't sound childish simply as if you want to enjoy your own work. Its wonderful to share but also to be able to have something for yourself, there's no reason to choose,"

Her memory is nice, he's glad that Autor does have some friends.

[lyricaltokarev]

Punie looks more than a little relieved. "It's nice of you to say so," she says. "It's hard to know what it means to be a grown-up, sometimes, but I suppose it's all right to do something like this just for fun, once in a while."

There's a sudden internal admonishment -- oh, I'm forgetting my manners! -- before she gets to her feet, and drops a little curtsy of greeting. "My name's Punie. Punie Tanaka."

[balancingminds]

"Charles Xavier and I think that's a rather key part of being an adult. Without a balance between work and play, life ends up becoming difficult,"

He bows in return to her.

[herr_bookman]

Strangely enough, the thoughts Charles are listening for approach him and leave with a Doppler effect, though the boy in question is nowhere in sight.

...heavens, this escalated quickly. Maybe I should just burn them all. So tempting, but that would just make it worse.

"Effugium," Autor says, and drops from the air near his door as his flying carpet shrinks from under him. His fingers touch the doorknob with a spark of memories, conscious--better hide these bruises, do I have piano today?--and unconscious--gears, a girl, a raven.

Better move quick, Charles.

[balancingminds]

That effect of the thoughts is odd and Charles looks to follow them and jumps when Autor nears the door. He stands up and strides over,

"Leaving will only help so much, people here remember and Guppy is well liked."

[herr_bookman]

Autor stiffens and draws a breath through his nose.

You're part of this, now? Well, thank you for the warning. I appreciate it. And deeper: How much does he know? How much? And deeper still, a pained laugh, overshadowing: Probably everything.

"Hello, Charles," he says, and leans back on the door, folding his arms. He projects the image of smug, confident, and completely impenetrable--for everyone else in the bar. There's no need to pretend for Charles, and he knows that the telepath will pick up on the fact that he's tired.

The kid is tired, and he'd really rather crawl up into a hole and die for a while, and his face--deliberately punched, but still painful--is stiff, and I am so tired of talking to people.

"Your dissertation was amazing."

[balancingminds]

"Will anyone bother you through your door or are there just different problems for you to record and try to understand? Thank you,"

His gaze softens as he wants to help but Autor doesn't make it easy.

[herr_bookman]

Autor tilts his head a bit, unconsciously giving off the impression of a confused puppy. A confused, beaten puppy.

"That's... sort of presumptuous," he says, though he states it as a question. There are six different ways he could take that statement.

Wait, what? Bother me in what way? he thinks, furrowing his brow. Punches and rulers and crazy crazy crazy, and the idea that he can handle them all. And he can. Now. People at home don't bother me.

His hand inches towards the door. He can fall backwards if he needs to; it's sort of comforting to have an escape route which he can also lean on and feel less exposed.

"Are you suggesting that I think of people as problems to be understood?" he says, raising a brow. Yes and no. That's complicated. He has an image of pond scum--not a problem, but a symptom. "Aren't you the one who studies the mind and its variants as part of your genetics work?"

[balancingminds]

"Yes, it is, but I figured it would be better to be direct. I do, but I also do my best to help people and understand them when I see they're in pain or having trouble. I don't always do or say the right thing, when I was younger, I would often speak to thoughts that weren't said aloud. It got me in a great deal of trouble until I learned how to find the line between presuming to know what could be fixed and understanding. I still make mistakes because people and relationships are complicated. What you've been doing feels familiar to me. Listening, analyzing, trying to understand, but as you've seen, it doesn't take much for that to work against you,"

People as pond scum is an awful image and one he dislikes but he's not going to approach it yet. He doesn't move towards Autor, Charles isn't trying to stop him, he's trying to figure out how to help.

[herr_bookman]

As Charles speaks, the pond scum image blooms again in Autor's head, and it's accompanied by research demonstrating that it's harmless, it's not an issue, it's beneficial unless excessive--which is a symptom, not a problem. Change a stagnant environment, and the pond as a whole flourishes.

His fingertips graze the doorknob again.

Then he narrows his eyes and pushes off the door. "Are you serious? You're trying to fix me based on the fact that I write down what I see? You're not even a part of this debacle."

He's lashing out, and he's aware that he's lashing out, and he's sorry, he's sorry, he'll regret it later and might even apologize if he's apologized to first, but right now he's not prepared for this, Charles, and he doesn't know why you're talking to him.

"I don't understand how what I did is any different from what you do even now--read people and make observations," he says bitterly, "except that I do so without the benefit of reaching into their heads whenever I damn well please. I actually ask them what they're thinking."

He bites the cut on his lip, thinking. "Security came after me because I wrote down information given to me willingly. I bet they've never even touched you."

[balancingminds]

"No, I'm not trying to fix you, I'm giving you some useful advice from someone who got in trouble for not being subtle with my observations," He takes a breathe to keep from saying something unfortunate,

"I've worked out my differences with people without the need of Security, because here I can be honest. That's also meant I've been threatened. Everyone does a variation on what you're doing, assessing, listening, but ask yourself what are you getting from it. Are people chess pieces to you or possible friends?"