Charles held his breath in his second class with Professor Lehnsherr, but the man barely acknowledged him as he filed past -- just a brief, impersonal look. Well. It looked like Charles might be able to brazen this out, after all. He settled in to listen as the first powerpoint slide clicked to life:
THE MUTANT LIBERATION FRONT AND THE CIVIL RIGHTS ERA In the Beginning
Erik Lehnsherr was a good speaker, if a little too sure of himself and prone to bearing down like a predator on students who had the temerity to express opinions he thought were idiotic. He was slightly kinder to the ones with visible mutations, though. Almost three-quarters of the mutant undergraduates in Harvard were taking this course -- it didn't surprise Charles, but he found himself skimming their minds, idly following the entwined threads of needs, hopes and a depressingly strong streak of internalised bigotry. Charles jotted down notes to remind himself to look up the parts he felt Lehnsherr was being too generous in drawing on his own political beliefs. Lehnsherr mentioned, in passing, that before coming to Harvard he had lobbied for his former university to place Mutant Studies within the Politics department rather than Sociology; he was lured over the ocean by promises of intellectual flexibility.
By the end of the lecture, Charles was beginning to let himself hope that he and Lehnsherr would get over the unpleasant bump of social awkwardness with the time-honoured method of denial, when Lehnsherr stopped him at the door. Charles looked left and right -- he was the last student left in the hall, much to his regret.
"I need to talk to you," Lehnsherr said.
I don't, Charles thought, but gamely said, "I'm free now."
a man with a midas touch, Charles/Erik, Charles/others (1c/?)
THE MUTANT LIBERATION FRONT AND THE CIVIL RIGHTS ERA
In the Beginning
Erik Lehnsherr was a good speaker, if a little too sure of himself and prone to bearing down like a predator on students who had the temerity to express opinions he thought were idiotic. He was slightly kinder to the ones with visible mutations, though. Almost three-quarters of the mutant undergraduates in Harvard were taking this course -- it didn't surprise Charles, but he found himself skimming their minds, idly following the entwined threads of needs, hopes and a depressingly strong streak of internalised bigotry. Charles jotted down notes to remind himself to look up the parts he felt Lehnsherr was being too generous in drawing on his own political beliefs. Lehnsherr mentioned, in passing, that before coming to Harvard he had lobbied for his former university to place Mutant Studies within the Politics department rather than Sociology; he was lured over the ocean by promises of intellectual flexibility.
By the end of the lecture, Charles was beginning to let himself hope that he and Lehnsherr would get over the unpleasant bump of social awkwardness with the time-honoured method of denial, when Lehnsherr stopped him at the door. Charles looked left and right -- he was the last student left in the hall, much to his regret.
"I need to talk to you," Lehnsherr said.
I don't, Charles thought, but gamely said, "I'm free now."
TBC