It's so bright it's practically eye stabbing.
We're at CIA head quarters, an unreliably nightmarish.
At least to me; I bet Charles here has nothing to worry about considering the fact that he's a completely well versed, good mannered, citizen with grade A personality. (And if he somehow secretly isn't, then a little revised memory wouldn't be too much trouble, now would it my friend?)
Me on the other hand… I hate this place. It makes me nervous.
Then again that's probably because for a majority of my life I've done nothing but illegal activities.
Doesn't help that I've killed more than a village full of people, broken into private sectors, stolen valuable property, counterfeited money, stolen select people's identities, threatened powerful people, and done some obviously horrible things etcetera.
All in all; I do not like this place. Obviously.
I would never willingly go into this place were it not for the 'better good'. (I've become so confused these past days; I don't even know what the 'better good' is anymore. It's either banding together with fellow mutants, saving the world, killing Shaw, or all of those combined. I don't care about the order, as long as Shaw is pleasantly killed by my hands the next time I see him or else all hell is going to break loose.)
All I can say is that wasting my time working with whoever it is I'm working with, be it CIA or Charles, it better be worth it. Because, who knows, I could've caught and killed Shaw by now.
I squint to try and forget about the absurdly bright light fixtures in this place. It's making me remember things that I rather would not think about in the presence of a telepath.
Regardless, brutal stabs of a memory of being strapped to Schmidt's cutting board break through.
I fight it off as I shield my eyes; reminding myself that my limbs are not tied down. I am free from that place. I am not going back and it will not happen again. I will not let that happen again.
I look over at Charles for the first time since entering this room.
His normally slight tanned skin is bleached, drawing attention to every brown freckle, revealing tickled pink lips, and exposing his already shining ocean eyes to something unimaginably magnificent.
Standing next to me in formal slacks and a button up shirt is…
Well, I don't mean to sound like a common, easily impressed school girl; but he's an angel.
On second thought, these lights aren't that bad.
I'm going to have to remember to bring him down here more often.