A wee bit uncharacteristic, I know. You expect me to be a straight shooter through and through, but there's no harm in making other telepaths work harder to get to the rest of me, hmm?

[ There aren't any stray memories hanging about here, but the carpet colors and wood paneling are both still so vibrant, reminding Charles of why he's content to come here and clean up every so often.

But one open window brings in the stinging ocean air, Charles smelling the salt before he recognizes where they are, quelling a minor temor up his spine and swiftly moving to touch Erik's back to direct their path, putting himself between his friend and the windows. ] Nice weather, for a change. In Oxford, it was rain in the real world and in my head, good lord.