[OOC: Italics are internal monologue, said and heard only by Dexter. Non-italics are actions. <3]
[...what just happened. A few hours ago I was just cleanly slicing Little Chino's carotid artery. Now, suddenly I'm in a... room. It looks so sterile. What is this place. Why am I here. Why am I here and not Debra, or Rita, or the kids? If I
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Mr. Morgan? Hello, I'm Charles Xavier. I'm afraid I haven't heard of anyone named Debra Morgan being here with us but ah as for where you are, its a planet known as Coruscant.
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[What is this place. I can't stay here.]
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[Now get out of my head. What all did he see? What does he know? ...Am I an open book, waiting to be read?]
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Smiling, the expression not quite reaching all the way up to eyes that were slightly apologetic, Charles nodded.]
Of course, Mr. Morgan. It was my pleasure. If you have any other questions, I would truly be happy to help.
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[What did you see.]
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In a unique show of some level of a self preservation instinct, Charles ... split the difference.
He exhaled a deep breath, looking for all the world like a man caught out and gave Dexter a sheepish smile.]
Just your thoughts about the sandwich and Miami, Mr. Morgan. You were thinking about them quite loudly and you'll find that many people are what's called 'Force Sensitive' here because of the universe we're in. It occasionally impresses strong feelings or direct thoughts back and forth between us.
[Everything he said was the truth, just not the whole truth and just in case Dexter proved to be one of those individuals who would have sensitivity ( ... )
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[Dexter doesn't believe that was all he saw and heard. He's paranoid, and rightfully so. Dexter has secrets no one should see hidden away in his mind, and if more than one person could see straight through him... this place was going to end in an electric chair for him.]
[You don't look scared.]
[His hand has raised to his chest - his heartbeat is strong against his fingertips. Is this what fear feels like? This must be the closest approximation.]
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Instead he let his eyes widen owlishly.]
Why should I fear a member of the police department who likes pulled pork sandwiches?
[As he spoke, Charles projected a feeling of calm and peace. If he allowed Dexter's paranoia to continue to ramp up, he really was going to be in a sticky situation. For now it was time to employ a bit of calm until he could figure out his next step with the man.]
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[Charles' abilities, of course, only increased the 'calm and peaceful' state of mind.]
You shouldn't.
[He shakes his head as if to clear his mind, but it did little.]
This is... new. For me. I think we should talk. But not on this thing.
[And not here, either.]
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It was ... disquieting and Charles forced a similar calm on himself to keep from letting his disquiet show more than he was willing to share with the man.]
Its new for all of us, Mr. Morgan. I would be more than happy to meet and talk with you if you wish?
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[The dry, humorless words were not directed entirely at Charles - Dexter often spoke to himself in his own mind, it was simple habit at this point. It would be difficult to simply... stop, even if there was someone probing around in his head. His head was a dangerous place.]
The sooner the better.
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Of course. Would you like me to come by your room and help show you around, Mr. Morgan?
[He felt rather like Winnie the Pooh singing to the bees.]
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[The newcomer nods.] I think that would be best, yes. It'd help if I knew what room I'm in. [He looks around. Oh hey look at that, it's right on his door.]
D-8. I'm in complex D-8.
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[With that, Charles disconnected his feed and spent the next two minutes rubbing his eyes and wondering at his own sanity. He needed to change out of Erik's clothes, they were just too big on him not to engender questions that Charles was in no mood to be answering.
So it took him perhaps ten minutes to get dressed in more appropriate clothing and navigate his way from his own apartment to the D level suites. Standing outside D-8, Charles took a few slow breaths and schooled his expression to polite neutrality before lifting his hand and knocking on the door.]
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[...And that made all the difference. This Charles. He knew. He was sure he knew. Pulled pork sandwiches and thoughts of his brother - the brother that knew him, and was forced to die by his hand - were tied together in the same stream of thought, and he'd been blissfully unaware of another's presence in his mind at the time. Because broadcasting his thoughts in his own mind had never been an issue before.]
[Am I broadcasting to the entire city without even knowing it?[He was beginning to think he was out of his league here. No criminal database, no standing in the police department (was there even a police department ( ... )
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Mr. Morgan, I presume. Charles Xaiver, a pleasure.
[He was offering his hand to a man he'd seen killing in cold blood, justified or not, Charles wondered to himself if he hadn't gone a little bit around the bend today]
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