"It's not that I don't find them attractive, of course I do," says Charles to the ceiling, and possibly Erik. There's not enough willpower within himself to check if he's listening, especially since he's rather sure he knows the answer. "How could I not find them attractive? They're women, after all, I mean... of course." A few moments pass before Charles hears an "mhm." There's a faint rustling to the left of the hotel bed as Erik turns a page in his newspaper. Rolling his eyes, Charles directs his limited attention to Erik's fun, interesting thoughts that he's never been allowed to read. Unsurprisingly, annoyance buzzes on the surface of Erik's mind, just out of reach of Charles' rather inebriated psychic abilities. There's no use in prodding, anyway. Charles exhales and lets his fingers fiddle with the sheets. "I don't know. …show more content…
All he'd needed to do was use it. Instead, he'd wobbled back to his own room and laid down and thought about wanking off and other manly, masculine things, like crying, and ordering several desserts from room service to distract him from his own self-imposed celibacy, to use Erik's term. He can even feel the key sitting uncomfortably in his back pocket, waiting to be used. (To be fair, he hadn't planned on having his pants on for very long after receiving it.) He's becoming his worst nightmare. Or, maybe, he's just turning into Erik. As far as Charles knows, Erik hasn't taken one night for "himself" since they'd gotten on the road, which Charles can't find being very healthy. Either that, or Erik cleans up quite nicely... the turtleneck-donning in May is a tad suspicious. But until Charles sees what's underneath, he isn't going to believe Erik's slept with anyone yet. Perhaps that's where all the anger comes from, Charles snorts to himself, thankful for a diversion from self-reflection. He starts to chuckle, despite the thought not being funny enough to merit that kind of