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As promised, Charles was contacted later in the day by Emma's assistant - a whispery-voiced woman named Tabitha who sounded as though she was always hiding in a closet, trying to avoid notice. She spoke quickly and concisely as she gave him the name of the restaurant -Lutece - and directions on how to get there, as it was located in New York proper at 249 East 50th Street. It's possible Charles has heard of the restaurant as being the newest successor to La Pavillion, /the/ place to get gourmond french food. But, Tabitha went on to ensure that Charles knew the location, the address, the dresscode (coat and tie required), and the time (8:00pm) - she made him repeat the information back to him, in the most polite and hushed way, no less than three times, so there would be no confusion. She thanked him for his time and disconnected the call.
The time, after that, dragged for Emma. She'd listened to the hushed murmur of Tabitha making the call from her office door, as though she might learn something new, something that would make this dinner feel more like business (comfortable, familiar, no feelings involved) and less like a date (which made her stomach feel strange and her legs feel restless, as though she wanted to run far away). No such luck. So, she tried burying herself in work and preparations for her new office space at the Institute. This worked very well, until the hours began dwindling away. She tried and discarded no less than ten dresses before she settled on a satin a-line, off the shoulder dress, and matching pumps. She put her makeup on, almost on auto-pilot. She used the rest of her brain to admonish herself sternly for acting so ridiculous. It's only a dinner date! Nothing special. She'd been on tons of these! Just stop acting like a stupid schoolgirl and find your dignity, Emma! And, she's still telling herself these things as she arrives at Lutece, just a bit earlier than the reservation.
Imagine her surprise when she is escorted to her reserved table…and finds that Charles, handsome as ever, is already seated and looking right at her! Her stomach fluttering traitorously, she offers a small smile and settles carefully in her seat as the maitre d' slides her chair in to the table before whisking away to his other duties. "Charles," Emma says in a greeting fashion, another little smile, as she picks up the wine menu. "I'm glad to see you had no issues finding the restaurant, and you look very well." Very well? That doesn't sound awkward.
*
Charles, for his part, was mostly distracted during the day, though his focus was laser sharp when Tabitha called him to give him the restaurant information. Much to the amusement of some of his students, who knew full well why Charles was a bit nervous… the only thing that travels faster than the speed of thought at the Institute is gossip, naturally. However, once a suitable outfit (black jacket, navy blue tie with clip, black slacks, polished shoes, white shirt) was picked out… and then he found himself parked in the parking garage adjacent to the restaurant. Hoping he didn't commit too many traffic violations to get there, he hurried to the table, and found himself early, so he waited…
… But not terribly long, as Emma was escorted shortly thereafter to the table by the maitre d'. Trying not to be breathless at the sight of her, which isn't exactly easy. Rising to greet her, he smiles warmly, "Emma, it's wonderful to see you." And he sounds like he definitely means it, suppressing his own butterflies as they appear to have been issued Sentinels within his stomach. Retaking his seat as she looks at the wine menu, he nods, "And no problems at all. Actually, with the advice of your assistant, it was remarkably quick to get here… quicker than I would have thought, honestly."
*
Emma's pale blue eyes, so nicely accentuated by her darkened lashes, flit from the menu to Charles' face, and she smiles behind the cover of the menu. "It's good to see you, too," she murmurs, so softly it could be difficult to make out with the low hum of diners that surround the area. She is grateful to move on to thinking about Tabitha, her assistant. Yes, something she can talk about that doesn't make her feel weird! "Oh, yes, Tabitha is a fantastic assistant. I pay her exorbitantly for her services. She puts up with my moods and more than lives up to my exacting standards, and those are very difficult things to do. So, she's worth it," Emma replies with a fond smile, thinking on all the paces she's put Tabitha through over the years.
"Irreplacable, I'm sure. You'll probably get to know her better when I begin settling in at the Institute," she says, glancing at the wine list, again. "It really depends on what we're going to eat, doesn't it? What wine would be best? Do you have any idea what you'd like to eat?" she asks, her face taking on a look of concentration as she examines the menu - it's all in French, of course, though English translations are provided in tiny print beneath the French.
*
Despite lunch the other day, Charles actually does know quite a bit about haute cuisine. It's just… well, the school tends to appeal more for those that don't. So it's actually a bit of a refreshing change as he scans the menu, then smiles over at Emma, "Well, I was actually leaning towards the foie gras, as I had it once before, while I was in France for a time. Delightful place on the banks of the Seine, though it was quite a while ago." There's a mental flash of pain then, nothing major, just a bit of a remembrance, though he doesn't elaborate it verbally. But Emma is sharp enough to detect the small leak in what's normally iron control.
Then he smiles, "And well, capable assistants are definitely something we have in short supply, so Tabitha's presence would be most welcome. And you'll be pleased to know that your office measurements look to be slightly larger than mine."
*
Emma's brows lift at the mention of foie gras -it's a /very/ acquired taste, and even she only eats small portions of it when she chooses to have some. "Well, their signature dish is very highly acclaimed, so if you enjoy foie gras, I think it wouldn't be a miss," she says, sounding slightly impressed. She notes the wobble of control. Instead of pressing for information, which is her normal modus operandi, she brushes past it, giving Charles a pass. It's likely a painful memory and she'd rather not mar the dinner with unpleasant thoughts or discussion. "You should certainly take another trip and make some new memories there, as France is always ahead of us in certain ways," she smiles. Mostly, she means cuisine and fashion, but she leaves it open to Charles' pondering.
"Well, I think I'll have the chicken breast, vegetables, and pasta in cream sauce. I think the 1945 Sauternes would be good with both dishes. It's a sweet white wine, and one of my favorites, lately," she offers, signaling for the sommelier. "But, maybe the sommelier will have a better suggestion," she amends, knowing that wine isn't really one of her areas of expertise. "And, we don't have to drink the same wine," she adds. She tries not to babble. She thought talking about wine, figuring out what to eat…that these would be safe topics! But, now, she mostly just sounds like a fool, tripping over her words. Her cheeks pinken a bit at the thought, and she's glad for the low light of the romantic dining setting. Maybe Charles hasn't noticed.
*
Charles does notice the slight blush, but doesn't comment, as well, it's rude, and he senses Emma did give him a bit of a pass for earlier. "Well, we don't, but I feel that I'd trust your opinion more than mine in that, Emma, so deferring to the sommelier sounds ideal." He smiles a bit, "And going back to France, well, that does sound lovely. Though I suppose it would depend on the situation, naturally." What exactly the situation would be, he doesn't elaborate, though there's a certain hint at something.
*
Emma smiles and nods, tucking a platinum lock of hair behind her ear as she waits for the sommelier to make his way over to the table. "Well, I'm certain that almost any reason to visit France can be considered a /good/ reason to go. I, myself, go quite often for business reasons, but also for their fashion shows and just to get some delicious, authentic food… Sometimes, life is so fast-paced and demanding that one is better off saying, 'no, I'm going to pause for a minute,' and enjoy the beautiful things that can easily slip through the cracks," she murmurs, letting her gaze wander, unfocused, into the distance as she imagines some of the exquisite sights she's seen in her visits to France. Charles can feel the gentle brush of her mind as she invites him to share this mental slideshow. Various scenes of breath-taking countryside, quaint French villages, delicious meals, lovely sunrises and sunsets…
This slideshow blinks off as the sommelier finishes with his previous table and makes his way over, making greetings in French and English. Emma responds with fluent French, a radiant smile on her face. But, she lapses into English, to be careful not to leave Charles out, in case he doesn't speak the language. "Good evening. I'm going to have this meal, here," she indicates to the menu. "And, I believe my date will be having the signature meal of foie gras?" she says in a questioning tone while looking to Charles for approval or otherwise. "We were wondering what wine or wines you would suggest for these meals. I'm rather partial to the 1945 Sauteres, if you have it. Or, do you have a better suggestion?" she smiles over at her dinner date as the sommelier considers.
*
Charles nods, enjoying the mental slideshow as he gets a bit of a distant smile, though he quickly brings himself back to reality when the sommelier comes over. He then smiles, "Ah yes, and I have been instructed to trust your discretion, so that is what I shall do." He flickers a smile towards Emma, as the sommelier departs with their requests.
Charles then murmurs towards Emma, "Yes, well, I must admit that my business has kept me a bit too occupied, perhaps. Though maybe that should be something that changes…" And he does resume the slideshow, his own memories and scenes of Paris in the springtime, back when Charles was /much/ younger, from his college days.
*
Emma smiles and nods as the sommelier takes their orders for wine and, right behind him, the waiter takes their food orders. The service is very good, here! And, with that, Emma and Charles are left to their own devices, seated at a table with dim overhead lighting, multiple candles placed on the table, and telepathic slideshows of places in France. A couple of times during Charles' slideshow, she excitedly interjects (telepathically, of course) that she knows of the area or has eaten at that place…
Biting her lip, Emma can't help but grin at the hinted idea of the two of them possibly visiting France, together. It would be very romantic. And, wistful as she is for the romance of France, in general, she allows herself to briefly daydream what that would be like. "Charles," she says aloud, her voice soft and intimate. "I don't know what it is about you, but you.. You make me want to be reckless in ways I've promised myself I'd never be," she laughs, shaking her head, cupping her cheek with one hand. "I can't put my finger on what it is," she says, smiling faintly, not looking up at him. It would be harder to make these confessions, if she were to look up.
*
Charles smiles, "I remember being told once that dreamers /were/ romantics, just on a bigger scale, Emma." He pauses, and glances to the side of her, because he knows how her dignity is important, keeping his voice soft as he says, "But I would be lying if I said that I didn't have such feelings either, when I'm with you." He then glances back to look at Emma, and… well, fortune would probably favor her looking up at the exact same moment, wouldn't it?
*
Emma smiles warmly at the mention of dreamers being romantics… It's true. As a lover of beauty and pleasure, Emma considers herself a romantic, even if the emotional aspects don't always come easy for her. She's got such trust issues that romantic relationships are very treacherous waters for her. But, she can't help but feel her heart pound faster at the next words out of Charles' mouth.
If she knew that Tony Stark and Charles are childhood friends, it might give her pause. It might make her wonder. As a businesswoman, she's well aware of Tony and his ladykiller ways. But, she doesn't know of this connection, and so, Charles' genuine nature takes another crack at her defenses, warming her heart a little more. And, it shows in those pale blue eyes that she lifts to meet his richer blue eyes…at that storybook moment. "I rather suspect I'll be a bad influence on you, Charles," she offers.
*
Charles looks like he was about to say something, then their eyes meet, and he… well, it isn't often that he's speechless, but there you have it. Frankly, it's so rare that he meets anyone that isn't either younger or not powered that a genuine equal is almost impossible to find. Well, nearly impossible, as he currently has eye contact with someone that would be.
Charles then smiles a little, "Well, maybe I'll be a good influence on you, as well. We could meet somewhere in the middle?" His eyebrow raises a bit, as it's a bit of a challenge. A friendly challenge, as his hand reaches out across the table, palm up towards Emma, an unspoken offer, if she wants to take it.
*
Emma can't help but feel a tiny spark of pride at the way the words seize in Charles' throat, a mischievous little smile tugging at her lips before she composes herself. She laughs at his words, nodding her head. "It's true. I think you're already rubbing off on me, so to speak. But, don't expect me to become Miss Nicey-Nice. …Except, maybe, with you," she says, placing her hand in his, accepting the challenge. If she can't allow herself to seek out happiness, she'll be the one to blame for her misery, and she refuses to be the author of her own pain. That's what she's telling herself.
*
Charles laughs, "I wouldn't have it any other way, Emma." He lightly squeezes her hand, "Though, I think it's about mutual respect, more than anything else." His own hand is surprisingly strong, considering he's not exactly resembling any sort of athletic, but gentle, and he holds onto those fingers like one could hold an exquisite diamond. Not that you would worry of breaking it, so much as you wished to just take great care in admiring it. He then tilts his head slightly, a slight grin touching his lips, "Do you happen to know how to dance?"
*
Emma smiles, considering the words. She nods, then, replying, "It's true. I do have a lot of respect for you. Your methods are different from mine, but you've accomplished so much for our kind. You're very selfless, while I am…not. Not as much as you, I mean. I'm not sure how you'll manage to overlook my flaws, but I don't really doubt that you will find a way. That's just the feeling I get." She looks down at the hand holding hers and tries to fight off any kind of insecurity that might lie deep down inside her. When the question comes, though, she is grateful for it! "If I didn't, all of those lessons I took during my childhood are wasted," she grins. "Why do you ask? Are you fond of dancing?"
*
Charles nods, a happy expression on his face, "I am. And when I was driving here, I just happened to notice a ballroom dance hall just a short walk from the restaurant." He tilts his head towards Emma, "If, of course, you were so inclined."
As far as the selfless comments are concerned, he blushes a little at that, then gives Emma a wry expression, "Oh, believe me, I'm not nearly as perfect as you might make me out to be, Emma. Much as you are not nearly as flawed as you think you are." Then, glancing up to see dinner and wine fast approaching, he quickly raises Emma's hand to his lips, kissing her fingers lightly before his hand lowers, releasing his grip as he gives her a warm smile.
*
Emma smiles, "I think that would be nice, yes. Provided we don't stuff ourselves too full on this delicious food." She laughs a little, knowing she likely won't eat as much as she usually would, now that she knows dancing will be taking place afterward. It was good he'd mentioned it before the food arrived! "Oh, Charles. It's that rose-colored view of yours that is so adorable. It's so antithetic to my experiences and my way of looking at the world… It's foreign and enchanting. I wish I could see things like that," she smiles, even as he presses a light kiss to her fingers. A kiss! Did it suddenly get hot in the room? She sits back to allow the server to place her food down and gratefully accepts her first glass of wine as it's presented to her. She takes a sip and relishes its delightful flavor. "Perhaps I'm not, but it's something very few people will ever understand," she insists.
*
Charles ahs, "Well, then, I suppose you can help keep me grounded in reality, then?" He grins at her as the food is placed, as he makes a mental note to go a bit easy on the food as well, though with how rich the foie gras looked, that wouldn't be /too/ hard. Once the server leaves, he raises his wine glass to hers, "To new combinations?" His smile grows a bit, as he doesn't contest that he has a rose-colored view of the world… after all, he wouldn't be much of a dreamer otherwise.
*
Emma laughs at his comment and nods, agreeing. "I can certainly be the salt to your sugar, even if I often wish it were reversed," she grins. Then, she lifts her glass and lightly clinks it against his. "For the spice of life," she adds, then takes a drink. "Oh, this looks so good," she exhales with relish as she looks at her food. "Yours looks positively sinfully rich," she teases Charles with a grin. "Are you a fan of chocolate?" she asks, looking at the chocolate sauce in which the foie gras rests.
*
Charles laughs a little, "Just a touch, though I have to admit I'm partial to English chocolate as opposed to what you might get here in the States." He smiles, "And I definitely think I might need to do some dancing to work this off, regardless. Though yours looks quite delicious as well, I can see why you thought of this place." And he does appreciate it, as he's not all rustic burger bars in Westchester, after all.
*
Emma grins and nods, "I'm not as fond of American chocolate, either. Some of the best chocolate I've ever had is Swiss chocolate. But, I've rather enjoyed many types of European chocolate." She smiles at the look Charles gives her plate. "Since this is your first time eating here, I'm going to give you a portion of mine to try. I've had what you're having, so there's no need to share, unless you insist," Emma says, already transferring some of her food onto a clean salad plate. She makes sure to get a little of everything on the sampler plate before she slides it across to Charles. "Yes, we wouldn't want Dr. McCoy getting on your case about your BMI, would we?" she says drolly.
*
Charles laughs, "Definitely not. Hank is probably shedding at the thought of my having foie gras as it is. So I think I'll keep that a little secret." He smiles at Emma, "Care for a little bit? I'm fairly certain I can spare some here."
*
Emma grins and nods, "I can't say no to a little bit of foie gras. Go ahead, then." She watches as Charles prepares the other salad plate with a bit of his meal for her, sipping her wine and smiling at how well the dinner date is going. It's almost like she's known him forever, and she's more at ease with him than with people she's known for years. The thought makes her stomach flutter, so she doesn't linger on it, refocusing on what Charles is doing.
*
Charles does a little better job of hiding his own Sentinel-scale butterflies, but they aren't really that bad right now just because… well, it is going so well. Two peas in a pod, as it were, as he says, "Bon appetit. Though that's really the extent of my French, I'm sorry to say."
*
Emma laughs, "Well, I'm sure you know a /smidgen/ more than that. But, that's okay. I can speak it for the both of us, should it be necessary." She grins and begins eating her food. The food, itself, is exquisite - in Emma's opinion. Her meal is much more classical French, and slightly more accessible to unadventurous palattes… Charles' signature dish meal pushes the envelope a bit more, presents flavor profiles that are more uncommon, and certainly more adventurous. But, if eaten in small bites and savored, it's very enjoyable! The wines, of course, are very complementary. "What is your favorite kind of music to dance to?" she wonders.
*
Charles laughs softly, "As much as some of the students want me to be a bit more modern, I prefer jazz to the rock and roll, though there are some up and coming performers that are rather something to listen too." He pauses, then smiles wryly, "Though I don't know if I could ever /dance/ to them, that's for certain."
*
The meal goes well. Very, very well. Aside from the fact, of course, that Emma is sometimes at a loss for conversation topics that don't seem heavy-handed or awkward. At least, they feel that way to /her/. Charles might find her perfectly engaging and natural. But, her nerves are eating at her composure, making her feel like her every thought is clearly printed on her skin… Why did she wear this satin dress? It doesn't breathe, and she sometimes feels like she can't breathe properly!
As the two walk out of the restaurant, Emma is grateful for the fresh air, and the stars above twinkling away. She smiles at Charles, though she is very clearly having trouble maintaining eye contact for too long. When he escorts her into the building, the ballroom, it's relatively peopled with similar couples, all dancing to unobtrusive music. She looks up at Charles with a breathless laugh, "Seems like you weren't the only one with an itch to dance, mm?"
*
Charles laughs a bit, "Well, I suppose that's true. I do make sure to keep a ballroom dance class on the curriculum. And I teach it myself." He smiles at Emma, bowing towards her in a old-fashioned manner, then offers her hand as the live band starts playing a waltz. "May I have this dance?" Yes, it's corny. It's also sincere. Which is… well, Charles in a nutshell, honestly.
*
Emma laughs, softly. That there's actually a ballroom dance course at the Institute… Very few places would offer that. It /is/ very Charles, as Emma is coming to learn. And, she is hardpressed to hide her blush when he so formally, and gentlemanly, asks her to dance. She places her hand in his and bobs a respectable, but brief, curtsey. "Why, yes, Charles. You may," she smiles and follows him out onto the dance floor. Her lines are immaculate, her posture is perfect, and she very clearly knows how to dance. More classically trained in ballet, she has enough training in other forms of dance to be able to easily keep up with his expert lead.
*
Charles glides easily through the form of the waltz, keeping Emma close as he leads her through the dance. He is actually rather good at it, keeping the beat of the music with steady feet as he suddenly twirls Emma out, then draws her back in with a smile, "Well, my mother insisted that I be able to entertain proper company, and in my opinion company doesn't come more proper." He's not /trying/ to make Emma blush, but it might just be a natural talent as he leads her across the dance floor.
*
At the surprise twirl, Emma is graceful and light on her feet as she spins out and returns to Charles' arms, a bright smile on her face. "Well, thank you for saying so," she says, preening playfully, even as she floats along the dancefloor with him. "I'm glad she insisted, because it's been ages since someone asked me to dance. Probably not since my last boy/girl prep school mixer," she murmurs, her face tilted up to look at him while they spin along.
*
Charles smiles, "Well, if we're ever in Los Angeles, I might take you to this club called the Blue Spot. Probably the best jazz club in the city. Actually met Dell Paxton a few times there." Who Emma might or might not recognize, though he is a rather good jazz musician.
Then Charles twirls Emma one last time, guiding her close as the dance ends, and then it's just a moment of silence where he looks into her eyes and… isn't entirely sure what to say. Though the smile he has seems to speak for itself.
*
Emma smiles, following his lead with ease, listening to his voice over the sound of the music. "Well, I'll have to take your word for it. I must admit, I'm not much for jazz, generally speaking. I'm much more into classical music, going to the opera, to the ballet… But, if you think it's good, I'd give it a chance," she says honestly. Why is she worried she might lose some of his interest? That's kid stuff! She silently gripes at herself, which has her only momentarily distracted when he starts the next spin-out. She laughs and twirls quickly to catch up the half second, and saves it just in time.
She's still laughing softly when he pulls her in, pulls her close. And, then, there's the moment. That moment when they're so close, and the music is quieted, and the dance is done… And, her heart is thrumming so hard he can probably see it, hear it… She looks up with those pale blue eyes of hers, sparkling softly in the light of the ballroom. Will he do it? Will he kiss her? Or, will the moment pass?
*
Charles isn't one to let moments pass, and this is not really an exception. He leans in, kissing Emma lightly but with heartfelt emotion, trying to balance her dignity (which he respects) with their feelings. Still, it is pretty intense, his arms sliding around Emma to hold her close as he releases the kiss, very gradually, not saying anything though his thoughts are pretty transparent, for a telepath anyway… as he's been thinking about that for quite some time.
*
Emma's head tilts back as Charles leans in to kiss her, her arms sliding closed around his neck as he embraces her, as well. She exhales softly into the kiss, kissing back, though in a dignified, appropriate fashion. She was hoping he'd kiss her, finally, and ease some of the tension that'd been growing all night. And, he did! And, it feels good. Not just to kiss him, though that is very enjoyable… It's freeing, to lower her defenses long enough to experience human intimacy. But, also scary! But, right now, all she's thinking about is how good it feels to be so tightly held, and so intensely kissed. Her foot lifts off the floor, leaving her on one heel, until the kiss ends, and she smiles at him, a breathlessness clinging to her.
*
Charles smiles back, "I…" He looks a bit dazed, as if he's had all that tension himself that just was let go. Keeping her close, he looks at Emma, as if unable to look anywhere else, unable to really say anything else, his thoughts racing quite a bit, but not in a bad way. Really the opposite, there's so much positive emotion there that it might almost be overwhelming as he just holds Emma close, trying to figure out words. Words are good, right? Words can help. But sometimes… well, maybe you just don't need them?
*
Emma grins a little crookedly at the single word he manages to get out. She takes a moment to retrieve her clean handkerchief from somewhere discrete on her person, and cleans the hint of red lipstick she left on his mouth. "Tsk, Charles Xavier, you're going to make people think I've been bodysnatched," she says in a playfully reproachful tone. "What are people going to think, seeing me moon-eyed and blushing? It'll be the end of my reputation," she shakes her head, looking up into his eyes. Then, she lets the silence fall, if that's how it happens. She doesn't /need/ to speak. She can share everything with him, in this moment, through her eyes, her facial expressions, her nearness…and, even her telepathy, as it seems so natural to do, between two telepaths. Emma rather suspects (and is a little concerned about) the idea that intimacy between two telepaths could be /incredibly/ intense.
*
Charles catches /those/ thoughts, as he was thinking something similar himself, and he laughs softly. He smiles a bit, "Well, is it wrong that my first thought was planning that our offices be adjacent? For purely professional reasons, of course." He's smiling a bit wider at that, "Moon-eyed and blushing, but still more formidable than any other woman I've ever met, I think."
And then he senses the telepathy, and his mind gently offers a link with hers, if she wished it. His shields are potent, beyond anything that any other telepath really would have, or should have, and he's… lowering them. For her. His hand lightly touches her cheek, as he leaves the choice to her, but there's a promise there, of something that's been missing, for both of them.
*
Emma laughs at the idea of their offices being adjacent, as that'd been her thought, too. At first, it was because that seemed fair, but later because…well. Because she'd started having occasional daydreams. About seeing Charles, running into him, at the Institute… And, otherwise. She flushes a bit, but smiles it away, "It's not wrong, at all. I wasn't certain that the layout would allow it, but I'd been contemplating that, too." Then, a beat while she considers that. Charles, himself, is impressive, formidable. He, too, is kind and gentle, generally speaking. But, Emma wonders if she can manage to maintain her reputation if others see her so…soft. "I don't know, Charles, I think you might be the only one who can pull that off," she concludes with a half smile.
When he opens his mind to hers, she happily lets him into hers, as well. It's easier, somehow, to let him see her truths than make herself try to speak them outloud. He gets the full force of her emotions rather easily. Excitement, pleasure, fear, doubt…a mix of everything. A real desire to see where things will go, a worry that things will go horribly wrong and she'll have left herself vulnerable only to get hurt. A craving for companionship, affection, intimacy, someone she can confide in…but, also terrified of actually having it.
*
Charles' mind echoes those concerns, but only partially. Perhaps that's the difference, as past relationships and present friendships ripple through his thoughts. Moira. Erik. Gabrielle. And then there's all the kids, whom he regards as his own children… Jean, his first student, then Scott, Hank, Logan and all the rest. For a man that doesn't have a family… he certainly has found himself in the middle of a rather large one.
Then he speaks, "I think you're underestimating yourself, and if there's one thing I know… you're not afraid of a challenge." Charles looks a bit wry at that, "I know /that/ all too well, and maybe things won't work out. There's no certainties in the world Emma. But you don't know unless you try… and I want to try, with you." Sure, it's apparent in his thoughts, but even Charles knows there's some things you just have to say.
*
Emma is relieved to find similar concerns ringing back from Charles' mind - knowing she's not alone in those fears, that helps a lot. She seems to relax in his arms the more she finds in common with him through this gentle, psychic common-ground exploration. While Charles has some notable relationships, friendships, self-made family… Emma has…none of these things. There are occasional dates that filter through, and Tabitha (her personal assistant) occasionally eating lunch with her… But, nothing resembling warmth, or connection. Emma has pushed away anyone who's tried to approach a personal relationship with her for a myriad of reasons…and it's just become habit.
Charles can sense the faint hint of embarrassment at him learning these facts about her. But, really, he'd find out sooner or later, and it's better to just get it out of the way, now. "You're right," she agrees in a soft voice. "I don't run away from challenges, I rise to meet them. That's why I'm here, with you. I want to be, but it's also making my stomach knot with nerves… I'm trying to…chase happiness, for once. And, I'm scared," she says even more quietly, as though even putting her voice to the words is painful. "I don't know what I'd become, if this goes wrong. That's why I've avoided it for so long, no matter how much I want it. But, if anyone is trustworthy enough to try it with….I think you are," she says, swallowing thickly. "If you want to, that is."
*
Charles then smiles, "I'm hardly a saint, Emma… and I understand how big a risk you're taking." He keeps holding her close, their presence pretty much ignored by the other dancers. If there's one thing that his thoughts make clear, sainthood is pretty far from what he is, though he does always /try/ to do the right thing.
Then he murmurs, "And we'll be in this together. That I promise you. No matter what your fears are, or your worries, or anything… you won't have to face them alone." Which is really what a relationship is all about.
*
Emma laughs, "No, I know. I know you're not a saint. But, I think you know what I mean. There's a…" She pauses, feeling around for the word, sending him the psychic feel for what she's trying to express… "A real /goodness/ about you. No one is without fault, except me, of course. But, you come closer than most people I've met. Genuine, sincere, and lots of other nice, dependable words. Unlike me, really. Not that I'm not genuine or sincere… I'm just not as warm as you are," she says, her mind blooming with her self-image, which isn't highly negative -
but, it's not exactly as flattering as others might imagine, considering she's known for behaving as though she's superior to everyone around her.
The last thing he says, though, has her feeling weak in the knees, and her eyes glisten with moisture that threatens to collect into a tear or two, but she pushes them back. The overwhelming emotion that floods her mind is…relief. How nice it would be to not have to shoulder everything, all by herself. How nice it would be to have someone to talk to, candidly and without posturing. To have someone to come home to, perhaps. To have someone to…do private, intimate things with…perhaps. And, again, her pulse is racing and her eyes are trying to escape his, just in case she broadcast that, too - which is entirely possible.
*
If she did broadcast that, Charles is gallant enough not to let on, though he does blush again as she says all those things about him. Of course he doesn't think such things about himself, otherwise he'd be insufferable and not the man that Emma sees.
Charles does, however, just embrace Emma, as this is definitely a moment that words aren't suitable for. Though he does seem to cloak their presence from the other dancers, just a minor use of telepathy for privacy's sake. And in that mental link, Emma can sense that steady reassurance, the determination that no matter what life hits you with, the important thing is to keep moving forward. Tempered with the warmth, the empathy that his life has brought him, to make his dream real for everyone. It's rather infectious… and in need of someone who can keep things grounded, to make him achieve those goals in reality.
*
Damn, does Charles look even more attractive when he blushes! Emma curses herself inwardly for being such a fool, but she can't help but enjoy it, anyway. She quietens, then, and just dances, close, her cheek resting on Charles' shoulder as they dance slowly - unseen by others, in their own little world, so to speak. She closes her eyes and, for once, tries to allow herself to just *experience* being with him, to be fully present without any nagging thoughts or doubts to interject.
And, the smell of him. The sound of his heartbeat. Her hair - white blonde and soft - smells like elegant products, her perfume is understated but intoxicating, and the feel her is so much more welcoming when she's this relaxed, this open. She nestles her cheek against the fine fabric of his tailored suit jacket, and holds him as close as he holds her, for as long as possible.
*
Charles just does slow steps, swaying with Emma in his arms as he rests his cheek against hers, inhaling that wonderful scent of hers, marveling at how open she is with him. He gently strokes her blonde hair, his other hand resting lightly at the small of her back as he sighs, a contented sound and emotion. Just the two of them in the dance hall now, as far as the rest of the world is concerned.
*
Emma isn't certain how long they've been dancing, but she figures it must have been a while, since the ballroom is starting to clear and her feet are beginning to feel it. She reluctantly pulls her head back just to cast a quick glance around. "Oh, goodness," she laughs, noticing how many people have left. "What time do you think it is?" she wonders, as if coming out of a nap, one during which she was having a very nice dream.
*
Charles hmmms, and grins a bit, looking a touch impish, "Ah… probably late enough they might be wondering why we're still here." He smiles a little, "Did you need a ride back to your place, Emma? I'm parked pretty close." If he were really the groovy professor, he might make more of an innuendo there, but she'd have seen right through that already. Instead, he lightly kisses her again, then glances around, "To be perfectly honest… I left my watch at home."
*
Emma grins back to that mischievous expression, nodding in agreement. "Yes, they might wonder that, if they knew we were still here," she agrees, her voice tinged with amusement. "And, yes, I could do with an escort. I sent my driver home before we walked over here, since I wasn't sure how long I'd be gone. I'd rather not wake him up and pull him from home," she agrees. Then, as his mouth closes in on hers, she grins against it, returning the kiss. "Well, I forgive you. I'm magnanimous like that," she says with mock humility, her eyes twinkling with mirth.
*
Charles looks relieved at that forgiveness, then laughs a bit, unable to keep the straight face for that long. "Well, then, m'lady, let me escort you. Your chariot doth await you." Then, assuming she allows it, he takes her arm gently, guiding her out of the dance hall…
The trip to the parking garage is uneventful and far too brief, as the Aston Martin parked there stands fairly solitary by this time of night. Seperating briefly from Emma, Charles unlocks the passenger side and opens the door for her, bowing low and gesturing, "M'lady, it would be the greatest pleasure of my life to guide you safely to your home." Okay, he's laying it on a bit thick, but he's having fun… and it isn't entirely untrue, either.
*
Emma smiles and curtsies lower for the florid language, spinning her hand in an elaborate fashion as she does so. "Why, thank you, good sir," she says in her snootiest voice, an impression of the women with whom her mother socialized during her childhood. Boston's old money crowd can be /very/ snooty, after all. She accepts his guidance and heads outside to the fresh air, again. She smiles as she walks alongside him, letting her body bump against his without concern or apology.
Then, as she's invited to have a seat in his very nice Aston Martin with such fanfare, she laughs and pokes him in the tummy before sliding down into the seat, tucking her skirts underneath her and her feet inside so he can close the door.
*
Charles gasps at the poke, more from fake shock and amusement than anything else, making sure Emma is completely inside of course, before shutting the door. Then he comes around and sits in the driver's seat, glancing over at Emma, giving her that boyish smile again. He then starts the car, instinctively knowing where Emma lives, thanks to their link, and then leans in to murmur to Emma, "That was exceptionally cheeky of you, m'lady." Placing a light kiss on her cheek, he then sits back, faint strains of Bach playing in the car as he was apparently listening to that on the way down from Westchester.
*
Emma grins at the response, and settles herself with her seat belt while Charles walks around the car to his side. As he leans in to kiss her cheek, she laughs and nods, "I'm certain I'll find many ways to surprise and shock you with my cheeky ways." And, as the Bach plays on, she inhales excitedly, "Oh, I love this piece! The cellos are amazing, paired with the French horns, aren't they? Like auditory chocolate - creamy, smooth, lovely." If she realizes that what she said might sound very strange to someone, she doesn't show it. Then again, her eyes are closed in appreciation to the beautiful music playing through the speakers.
*
Charles smiles, "Yes, definitely. Particularly with how they blend together." He lets the music speak for him on the drive, emotions and thoughts sprinkling back and forth through the link as he is a very careful driver. Not overly so, though, as it definitely feels like he's taking a bit of time to spend as much time with his passenger as he can.
*
Emma nods her strong agreement with Charles' assessment, "Oh absolutely. And, this crescendo, here," she pauses for the moment in the concerto she's talking about. "So breathtaking," she exhales, slumping in her seat a little, as though the moment took it out of her. "Really, I would love to go to the ballet with you, or an opera… I think we could have a most wonderful time together, provided those don't bore you to tears," she adds with a little smile, her head lolling on the headrest to look at his face's profile. She enjoys the gentle link she's created with him, as it's a very easy way to share emotions, enjoying how he feels and allowing him to enjoy how she feels. It's all very…intimate. Even if there is no physical aspect to it.
*
Charles hmms, "Well, I haven't been to either in quite some time, and I definitely wouldn't mind going. We should see what's playing next week, or perhaps take advantage of Memorial Day?" He doesn't even have to glance over, seeing Emma's posture in the link, and he smiles, "As I had really nothing planned… or at least, it seems like the world isn't due to end just yet." Because dates might have to be postponed for world-ending crises, not that he really would want them to be.
*
Emma smiles broader, nodding her head, "Memorial Day, or sooner!" There's a hint of childlike excitement in her voice as she says those words. She purses her lips together, a little embarrassed by how silly she sounded. But, she lets it go and presses on. "I mean… If there's anything playing, I'd love to go see it. I favor ballet over opera, but I favor opera over broadway shows. And, it just goes on," she laughs. And, it's true. Taking advantage of the down times for personal enjoyment is a necessity in this life of being a mutant and having things coming after you. She understands it full well. The rest of the ride is comfortable and relaxed, pleasant. When Charles pulls up to her building, her doorman opens the door for her and she gives Charles a kiss goodnight. "Thank you for tonight, Charles. I had such a good time. I'll see you soon, I hope," she smiles, gathering her purse and giving him one last look before getting out, and heading inside for the night with one last wave goodbye.
*