The Savage Lands were, as their name suggested, savage. Despite having gotten used to being able to use his legs, and spending time with Erik without having to put on airs of being enemies, Charles Xavier was still glad to be going home. He looked forward to spending a night in his own bed instead of on lumpy ground (or, near the end, on a balled-up corner of Magneto's cape), though he did not look forward to spending that night alone. Well, Erik hadn't left yet, was still skulking around the foyer of the mansion like he had nothing better to do, so maybe "alone" would not be an issue.
Of course, first thing was first. "Scott, the list." He held out his hand, and Scott deposited a clipboard there, somewhat sheepishly. He scanned over the page, taking mental inventory of all of the items in the mansion that had been destroyed over the course of his absence. "Is this all, then?" he asked.
"Uh, it goes on for a while on the back," Logan offered gruffly. "I told everybody we should just tie Jubilee up every time you leave, but for some reason people think this is a democracy or some shit."
"Language, Logan," Charles scolded blandly, flipping the sheet over. The list was extensive, he realized with some dismay. "My television?" he exclaimed as he reached the end. "The television in my bedroom?"
"Like I said," Logan replied, "We need to think about a passive restraint system for that girl." He considered. "Maybe not passive."
Charles pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, setting the clipboard down on his lap. "And did you not think to try and replace any of these items?" he asked, already knowing the answer - and not because of any psychic ability.
Scott looked somewhat sheepish, even with the ever-present visor. "Well, see, we tried, Professor," he said, rubbing the back of his head.
"And..." Charles prompted.
"And... well, it didn't work out." Scott lapsed into silence, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot.
In the doorway, still lurking, Magneto cleared his throat. "Do you want to know how many of my belongings have been ruined whilst we've been away?" he asked.
"Why are you still here?" Logan demanded, but not too vehemently, since he was well aware Magneto could make him do horrible things with his adamantium claws.
"None," Magneto announced, ignoring the shorter man. "None of them. Would you like to know why?"
Charles sighed. "I have no doubt you're going to tell us," he replied, trying not to think about the fact he would not be able to watch his shows that evening.
"Because," Magneto intoned, "I do not live with a gaggle of teenagers."
"Thank you, Erik," Charles said, though he had to admit, Magneto probably had a point. "That was very helpful." He turned to Scott. "Please take Jean and go get me a new television." He handed Scott the clipboard. "And everything else on this list. I expect you to be back before I miss the ten o'clock news."
Scott snatched the clipboard from Charles' hand, obviously eager to redeem himself. "Of course, Professor," he said, proferring his arm to Jean. "We'll be back soon."
"Erik." Charles turned his attention to the man in the doorway. "I trust you would like to rest before you return to... wherever it is you live. Please join me upstairs."
Logan cleared his throat, but a pointed look from Charles prevented him from saying anything untoward. "Need some help?" he offered instead.
"That won't be neccessary," Charles replied, manuevering his hover chair towards the stairs. He gestured to Magneto, who strode past Logan with a sweep of flowing cape.
"Please make sure we are not disturbed," Charles instructed as he and Magneto adjourned to the bedroom for something, he knew, would take his mind off his broken television entirely.