That's always true, but no less so right now. How people react to Charles -- and more to the point, to his wheelchair -- says a lot about who they are. And about how they'll react to mutants.
Okay, yes, he's a telepath; he could muck around in their heads if he wanted to. It would be criminally easy to find someone with basic skills and then push and pull and mold their minds so that they react exactly the way Charles tells them to.
Easy, but frightfully boring. He wants someone who can think, and react, and, well, someone he can trust.
--
"Oh," says one woman, eyes wide, "you didn't mention," and she cuts herself off quickly enough, but it doesn't take telepathy to see that she's reconsidering her opinion of Charles and of the students. Children with special needs, he'd phrased it, deliberately ambiguous; two-thirds of the people he meets with think see his wheelchair and think they understand. This woman is one of them.
Charles smiles politely and wraps up the interview.
--
One candidate seems promising, and conducts himself professionally enough, except there are undertones of smug, self-congratulatory pity. Look at how awesome I am for helping the poor little cripples. Charles isn't sure how much of that is what he's picking up telepathically, and how much is just intuition, but it makes his skin crawl.
After that's over, he has a nice stiff drink, and allows himself a moment of wishing he could have Erik back, or Raven.
--
He finally finds who he's looking for: someone who is intelligent without being arrogant, who notices the wheelchair (and doesn't pretend not to) but files it away as just another fact about Charles, along with hair color and eye color and skin color and accent, part of who he is without being all of who he is.
When it turns out she's a mutant too, that's an added bonus, but he's already decided to offer her the job.
no subject
That's always true, but no less so right now. How people react to Charles -- and more to the point, to his wheelchair -- says a lot about who they are. And about how they'll react to mutants.
Okay, yes, he's a telepath; he could muck around in their heads if he wanted to. It would be criminally easy to find someone with basic skills and then push and pull and mold their minds so that they react exactly the way Charles tells them to.
Easy, but frightfully boring. He wants someone who can think, and react, and, well, someone he can trust.
--
"Oh," says one woman, eyes wide, "you didn't mention," and she cuts herself off quickly enough, but it doesn't take telepathy to see that she's reconsidering her opinion of Charles and of the students. Children with special needs, he'd phrased it, deliberately ambiguous; two-thirds of the people he meets with think see his wheelchair and think they understand. This woman is one of them.
Charles smiles politely and wraps up the interview.
--
One candidate seems promising, and conducts himself professionally enough, except there are undertones of smug, self-congratulatory pity. Look at how awesome I am for helping the poor little cripples. Charles isn't sure how much of that is what he's picking up telepathically, and how much is just intuition, but it makes his skin crawl.
After that's over, he has a nice stiff drink, and allows himself a moment of wishing he could have Erik back, or Raven.
--
He finally finds who he's looking for: someone who is intelligent without being arrogant, who notices the wheelchair (and doesn't pretend not to) but files it away as just another fact about Charles, along with hair color and eye color and skin color and accent, part of who he is without being all of who he is.
When it turns out she's a mutant too, that's an added bonus, but he's already decided to offer her the job.