And if the timing is right, to sneak off into the night [open]

[xprofessor]

WHO Charles and YOU!
WHAT Tension week is getting to him. Already. On the second day. He will probably explode before next Monday.
WHERE In/just outside the hostel.
WHEN Tuesday evening.
NOTES Let me know if you're cool with cursory telepathy being used in the log. Info about Charles' telepathic ability is on his journal.
WARNINGS None so far

Comments

[idolstolemylook]

Spike's fishing in his pocket as he strolls down the sidewalk, brow furrowed. He's keeping to the lengthening shadows, of course, but he's more preoccupied with the fact his zippo is nowhere to be found. Cho probably cleaning up again, he thought. Sodding houseguests.

He looks up at the man with the faulty lighter, unlit cigarette dangling from his lips as he speaks.

"Mind if I try, mate? Seem to've left mine at home."

[xprofessor]

"Be my guest." Charles tosses the lighter at the --

Vampire.

He reaches out, a little, to confirm. And yes: the mind-signature is almost identical to Angelus. "That is," he corrects, "so long as you're just looking for a light and not a little blood."

Spike might recognize the type of lighter. Made in 1960. A historical artifact now, Charles supposes, sourly.

[idolstolemylook]

Spike looks up from his appreciative perusal of the lighter. He likes a man who can take care of his things. Well, when he isn't tearing things down.

"'f I was," he says, flicking the lighter experimentally, "would've been a bit more direct. Of the punching and biting variety, most likely."

[xprofessor]

"How reassuring." He twists his his fingers around the cigarette.

Actually, Spike's presence, paradoxically, is a little reassuring. His thoughts aren't uncontrollably bleeding over like everyone else's.

[idolstolemylook]

"Glad you think so," Spike says, a little bitterly because he's not supposed to be going around chatting people up for lights. He gets it working, though, eventually, and lights up, offering the flame to the other man.

"What gave me away?" he asks through a plume of smoke.

[xprofessor]

Charles puffs until the cigarette's glowing at the tip, and then pulls back, holding a hand out for the lighter. The first inhale relaxes him only fractionally. Disappointing.

"Your mind," he tells Spike. "You feel like a vampire."

[idolstolemylook]

Spike's eyes narrow, and he drops the lighter into the man's hand. Too bad. He'd have kept it.

"You readin' my bloody thoughts?" he asks. Just because most demons can't doesn't mean it can't be done, Spike knows very well.

[xprofessor]

"Would you like me to?" returns Charles, crossly.

[idolstolemylook]

Spike draws back slightly.

"Why would I want you to do that?" he says. "No tellin' what you'd see up there."

[xprofessor]

Charles takes a breath. And another. A draw on the cigarette. "I couldn't, unless I tried very hard," he says, more calmly. "And probably not even then. Vampires like yourself are very difficult to read."

[idolstolemylook]

"Bloody right we are," Spike sniffed. "Inscrutable, an' all that. So what're you? Some kind of psychic demon?"

[xprofessor]

"Mutant," Charles corrected, curtly, fingers curling around the cigarette.

[idolstolemylook]

Spike shrugs. "Po-tay-to, po-ta-to," he says inaccurately. "Didn't know mutants came with special powers, anyway."

[xprofessor]

"Didn't know vampires came with an attitude," returns Charles. "But given you and Angelus, I'm inclined to draw an uncomfortable number of parallels." This isn't quite accurate. Angelus was deceptive, Spike is just sarcastic. They both do have an edge about them. Something to do with vampirism, Charles supposes.

[idolstolemylook]

It probably has more to do with being alive for more than a hundred years and a bastard for most of those, but Spike isn't the mind reader. His eyes do narrow at the mention of Angelus.

"Been here five minutes and he's all anyone bloody talks about!" he rails. His pacing is cut short by the remaining sunlight, so he throws his hands up in the air. "I'm nothing like him."

[xprofessor]

"Jealous?" asks Charles, archly, exhaling a long plume of smoke.