'Quit being such a pussy and get the fuck on with it.'

'I am not a-' Charles cut off the thought before it could go any further. He wasn't about to let Wesley drag him down to his level.

Not that it helped much. Not when you were debating with a man who lived inside your head (or did Charles live in his?). Even if one of them didn't 'hear' the other, they could certainly feel the other's responses. This time was no exception and Wesley made sure his amusement was projected so that Charles knew that Wesley knew exactly how far to 'his level' Charles had stooped anyways.

'Well I suppose you could say it's the thought that counts, right Charles?'

'I'm not going to do this with you, Wesley, not here. 'Charles sighed as he settled himself against the hallway wall. The agent they were waiting for should pass by here in five minutes if they telepath judged his pace correctly. That would give him some time. 'Just let me think.'

If you thought holding a 'debate' with the voice in your head was confusing, try holding an honest to god argument with yourself. It is fucking impossible. Charles and Wesley had only true argued three times in their conjoined lifetime, and each time found them at the completely opposite end of the argument from whence they started. The mental walls that held their distinct personas apart couldn't hold up all the way.

Emotions ran too high and when they did, they had a tendency to bleed through, occasionally carrying their thoughts and ideas with them, which had led to more than one complication. For the longest time Charles actually thought he was responsible for Kurt Marko's death. That was bullshit, of course. It was Wesley who did it and Wesley's only regret was that Charles regretted it.

About a nicer way to say: Hey, how it's going? I'm sorry. I just wanted to stop by and say I'll be putting a bullet through your coworker-"

'Wesley!' Charles warned.

'and his son soon, figured you'd want to know.' Wesley scoffed. 'There's no nice way to break this down, even for you Charles.' Charles was careful to direct his glare to the ground lest a camera catch the seemingly inexplicable changes in his expression.

Charles knew Wesley had a point but... 'It would be better to wait then, at least until our partnership with the CIA has reached an end. I imagine it is difficult enough associating with a known killer. I'd hardly think they'd abide our killing one of their bosses in addition very easily.'

i'Kill one, save a thousand remember? You know as well as I do the longer you make us pussy out the more people that are going to-'/i and Wesley felt Charles agreeing with every word. 'You're just stalling because of the kid,' Wesley thought in realization.

No point denying it. 'Perhaps,'/ admitted Charles.

William Stryker Jr. was a great deal younger than their normal range of targets. Charles hardly thought it possible for a boy that young to ever manage to commit something so atrocious as for Fate to arrange his death so early in life.

'Young man, Charles,' Wesley corrected. 'He's nineteen, almost as old as I was when I joined the Fraternity and even older than Lensherr when he-' A flash of steel, blood, pain, thisisformyfuckingmother, his hand digging through their chest just like the Herr Doktor had done to him. He's strapped down to a metal gurney, pinned like one the frogs Charles let Wesley dissect for their chemistry class, and the doctor is reaching down to his chest with a scalpel that looks just like the one they used for the frog and-

'Snap the fuck out of it, Charles!' Charles came back to reality with gasp and a lingering stinging sensation to his right cheek. Wesley must have taken control of their shared body sometime while Charles had been out of it and slapped him...himself, them. It would probably depend on when Charles came to, after the slap, during the motion...

'Thank you for that,' said Charles sincerely. Sometimes when Charles read minds where the memories were simply too strong, they would revisit him in such crystal clarity that he would feel he was living the moments themselves and Charles could lose himself to them for hours on end. Luckily Charles had Wesley, and Wesley would always be there to find him one way or another.

But Charles thought the slap was a bit too harsh, 'Though would you care to be a little more gentler next time?' Charles fought the urge to rub his soar cheek.

'I was thinking you could do with a little more roughing up now and again.' Wesley thought back cheekily.

'I thought that's what you're here for.'

'Spare the whip, spoil the child.'

'That has nothing to do with anything!'

Charles had the distinct impression Wesley was doing the mental equivalent of humming and ignoring him, despite being confined to the space of their head, when, i'Heads up, boss man's here.'/i And indeed the agent was coming down the hall, Charles checked his watch, just as he'd predicted.

'You're rich, you're a telepath, and you've got the perfect weapon in your fucking head. I think it's safe to tell it to them straight. Or you could always save yourself the trouble and shortcut this. Mindfuck him and move on.'

'I will not be 'mindfucking' anyone' Charles thought back while out loud Charles said to the agent, "Hello, sorry to disturb but if I could only have a moment of your time."