Charles's venom only earned him a scant shrug. If Erik felt the sting, he didn't let it show— only reached out and grazed the edge of the decanter with his fingertips, pulling its square weight into his palm. Tempted for a moment to drink straight from its mouth, he chose prudence instead, beckoning the brass bar cart away from the wall with a halfhearted twitch of his hand.
He poured in silence, thinking. This was more than he'd bargained for, by a long shot, but if the answer to his question was a byproduct of Charles venting his spleen, it would be worth it.
And if there had ever been a chance of his leaving, it was gone now that a peek into his own future was on the table. Mystique had told him a lot, the vast stores of the Proserpina's database had told him more, much of it contradictory— there were a multitude of worlds, Abed had told him, a dozen permutations of himself with no two alike. But here, in his own world, presented with the chance to find out about what actually became of him— well, leaving was simply out of the question.
His mind brushed briefly against the idea that Charles had known that was the likely outcome, then eeled away just as fast. Their old partnership had, in time, soured into morbid fascination— and Erik might be masochistic enough to prolong the interaction, but Charles was as straightforward in his hate as he'd once been in love. He wanted Erik gone, and would do whatever it took to make it happen.
Which made Erik all the more curious why Charles didn't simply enter his mind and force him to leave.
"Go on, then," he said at last, gesturing with his glass. "I'm all ears."
no subject
He poured in silence, thinking. This was more than he'd bargained for, by a long shot, but if the answer to his question was a byproduct of Charles venting his spleen, it would be worth it.
And if there had ever been a chance of his leaving, it was gone now that a peek into his own future was on the table. Mystique had told him a lot, the vast stores of the Proserpina's database had told him more, much of it contradictory— there were a multitude of worlds, Abed had told him, a dozen permutations of himself with no two alike. But here, in his own world, presented with the chance to find out about what actually became of him— well, leaving was simply out of the question.
His mind brushed briefly against the idea that Charles had known that was the likely outcome, then eeled away just as fast. Their old partnership had, in time, soured into morbid fascination— and Erik might be masochistic enough to prolong the interaction, but Charles was as straightforward in his hate as he'd once been in love. He wanted Erik gone, and would do whatever it took to make it happen.
Which made Erik all the more curious why Charles didn't simply enter his mind and force him to leave.
"Go on, then," he said at last, gesturing with his glass. "I'm all ears."