Charles liked to lie in bed. Well, that was a lie, but you can't always get what you want and he was trying to be optimistic about this whole "paralyzed" thing. At least, being a telepath, letting his mind wander could be a real thing, and so he found himself foolishly taking a stroll through people's minds, living vicariously through them.
Erik would have said it was funny, the way he slowly lost his grasp on his morals when he had nothing better to do.
Since Cerebro, his reach had slowly been expanding. Now he flitted from one person to another, letting them take him away, until-
-he was hurled mentally to his own broken body before he could get a grasp on who he’d last visited.
“The fuck?” He reached out again, tentatively this time, and found himself hovering at the edge of another telepath’s mind. “Oh, it’s you.”
He could see how Emma tilted her head, blonde hair falling over her shoulder. “Stay out of my thoughts.”
“Look, I know we got off on the wrong foot and all-”
“You chained me to a bed and forced your way through my memories.”
He couldn’t help but point out, “Technically, Erik trapped you in the bedframe.”
“I was told you had more class than to mind-jump.”
“Yeah, well, I’m bored and paraplegic. Cut me some slack.”
She shimmered into being in that fuzzy realm of in-between telepaths accessed. “That’s a weak excuse for breaking your own rules.”
He shrugged. “I found somebody to talk to.”
Emma smiled and trailed a finger down his face; it echoed back to his body and he let out a wistful sigh.
God, but he missed women.
“I suppose I could… entertain you for a while.”
He grinned. A not-so-foolish venture, after all.