"I hear that living in the wilderness isn't your cup of tea."

Charles' eyes crinkle with the comment as the teenager opposite him grimaces, his lanky, still-growing body already gratefully snuggled up in a throw blanket.

"Nah. I thought there would be more microwaves and grassroots punk music, and less—. . .  Dish duty, I guess. I don't know. Nobody there even wanted to start a band with me."

"Truly tragic." Charles hums, settled comfortably into one of the armchairs in his office.

Since Dorian had arrived at the school so late into the evening, Charles had ensured to personally greet him and 'make the boy a hot drink and supper, for God's sake, we aren't animals' - before releasing him to mingle with the other children.

"We still have dish duty here, you know. Unfortunately, the fabric of society relies upon us all doing our fair share to look after one another, regardless of whether you're in a school or a mutant-commune in the middle of the woods."

"Yeah, yeah." Dorian's grumble is good-humoured. "Magneto warned me about you and your sociology lessons before I agreed to come here."

Charles smothers a surprised chuckle into his steaming mug of tea.

"Yes, well, I appreciate that Mister Lehnsherr's mutant venture is far sexier than my school and its sociology lessons - but we do have a microwave, and the curriculum has been designed with purpose. Erik wouldn't have recommended you come here if he didn't believe we could help you."

"Mm." Dorian's agreeing murmur isn't entirely committal, but he nods all the same. "I know. I'm—, open to it. I am glad to be here, Professor."

Here: in a school. Back in a school. Just like the school he'd bunked off from, and the one he'd been expelled from, and the one he absconded from, right after his dad had said the military was the only choice he'd left them with—.

"And we're glad to have you, Dorian."

Charles interrupts Dorian's doom spiral before it can gain any real momentum, his smile warm and his tone understanding.

"Thanks." Dorian nods again, that markedly teenage oh-god-an-adult-is-comforting-me sense of embarrassment quickly reddening his cheeks. He hops up from his plush armchair and nods towards the office door.

"I'm—, I'd love to meet these other students you've told me about! There weren't really a lot of young people in Genosha. I've missed that. There was a bunch of old people and small kids—, and like, married couples, like Erik and Magda, they were cool, but I didn't wanna third-wheel—."

A small frown creases Charles' brow, one which Dorian interprets to mean that his rambling is inevitably growing irritating. Shit.

As if sensing Dorian's anxious thoughts (ha), Charles gives a tight smile, raising a hand in understanding.

"You're quite alright, my friend. I was only confused for a moment. I thought I was familiar with Erik's general entourage but I must have missed a few additions."

"Oh! Yeah, I mean, I think she's lived there a while. Long enough for them to get married and pop out a baby at least, but what do I know? None of my business. They're nice. Uh."

Dorian's fingers twiddle aimlessly, his gaze drawn longingly to the nearest escape route and the teenagers that exist beyond it, perhaps playing on the Intellivision or listening to records or watching baseball or. . .