[ Thank you! I might do that later. C: I'll also be dreadfully slow until Christmas. I hope you don't mind slow tags. So much to do. D: ]
Charles is aware of the minds of his students. He's aware of his teachers. He's even aware of the usual people hanging around on his lot. They're a familiar backdrop to his everyday routines, their murmuring thoughts a harmony that is both familiar and comforting. He notices when a new voice joins the chorus because the harmony is broken instantly. It doesn't mean the mind is necessarily troubled or out of place, just that it's a new one.
He wakes up in the middle of the night to this sensation of unfamiliar consciousness, even if a blurry one, and once he focuses on this new voice, he understands why the man sounds, in the lack of a better description, unfocused. He's sleeping. Sleepwalking to be exact.
The night is chilly and Charles doesn't feel like waking up Hank to do his bidding; he draws on a cardigan, a blanket over his feet and wheels himself out of his room quietly, down the stairs on a lift Hank installed and then out and down a ramp that is quite steep. Hank would frown at him for being out here alone, especially in places where he could trip and hit his head. Charles thinks it's nonsense.
The garden paths aren't the best for wheelchairs and definitely not when they're covered in snow, but he'll manage. He comes to a halt a little ways from the man who is already walking away.
"Please, do come inside. We can get you warm and call you a cab. The road back is going to be long in your current state."
no subject
Charles is aware of the minds of his students. He's aware of his teachers. He's even aware of the usual people hanging around on his lot. They're a familiar backdrop to his everyday routines, their murmuring thoughts a harmony that is both familiar and comforting. He notices when a new voice joins the chorus because the harmony is broken instantly. It doesn't mean the mind is necessarily troubled or out of place, just that it's a new one.
He wakes up in the middle of the night to this sensation of unfamiliar consciousness, even if a blurry one, and once he focuses on this new voice, he understands why the man sounds, in the lack of a better description, unfocused. He's sleeping. Sleepwalking to be exact.
The night is chilly and Charles doesn't feel like waking up Hank to do his bidding; he draws on a cardigan, a blanket over his feet and wheels himself out of his room quietly, down the stairs on a lift Hank installed and then out and down a ramp that is quite steep. Hank would frown at him for being out here alone, especially in places where he could trip and hit his head. Charles thinks it's nonsense.
The garden paths aren't the best for wheelchairs and definitely not when they're covered in snow, but he'll manage. He comes to a halt a little ways from the man who is already walking away.
"Please, do come inside. We can get you warm and call you a cab. The road back is going to be long in your current state."