the professor

"You need to tell me your secret for staying dry," the witch teased.

Olek was heading upstairs with what wet clothes he'd already gathered - including a quick trip to the door to grab Leslie's twisted shirt. Bo called for him to grab suitable clothes for everyone to wear in the meantime. Suitable was a stack of impossibly soft cashmere long sleeves in various shades of tan and gray, and another stack of drawstring trousers.

"I already wanna go again," Leslie laughed.

"I will glue you to the ground," was a promise from their host.

"It's a very useful little trick called not getting bested in a duel and landing flat on my back," he teased in turn, grinning.

"Oh, and layers." Like his hair, his cardigan was only slightly damp from the mist. Still, he peeled out of it to reveal a perfectly dry shirt. He wouldn't hand the jumper off to Olek. One didn't machine dry cashmere.

He chuckled, shaking his head. "I'd believe him. I'm not opposed to another show, but I'm watching from inside, this time.

The pants needed to go, too, but that could wait until he at least dried his hair and feet. Bo was busy with his phone, looking for one of his calmer playlists of music to fill the mindfully distributed speakers throughout the house.

Leslie's jacket and shirt were off by the time Charles averted his attention. Still hovering at the wide open door, wringing out his shirt. His smile was just for the telepath.

"You ok?" he mouthed.

Oh, for the love of... Was everyone stripping down, this afternoon? Perhaps he should peel out of his jumper and join the party! Charles was a happily married man, but he was indeed still a man.

Blue eyes met Leslie's and stayed right there, thank you very much. "Perfectly fine," he said not bothering to mouth or project.

"It seems that Bo is throwing wet clothes into the dryer. You might ask him to take care of that shirt, as well." The sooner it dried, the sooner he could put it back on.

Leslie was last to leave, still staring at the sky and letting his thoughts float away with a current. Thoughts of Tristan and what he was doing, thoughts of Brett, Tristan again, and then Callum MacGillivray. Whenever it rained he thought of that man.

"We're not wasting magic drying off," said Bo. "Your clothes are going in the dryer."

"I'm fine!" Olek tried to insist.

Bo held his hand out, deadpan. His familiar had expelled enough energy for the day. With a sigh, Olek pulled his shirt overhead, not bothering with the buttons.

That rather defeated the purpose of changing the color of his shirt now, didn't it? Their relationship was a fascinating one. But Charles was too polite to examine it further, at the moment.

He turned his eyes and his thoughts to Leslie, reaching out toward his mind in silent inquiry. Just a wordless impression that vaguely translated to, "Everything all right?"

"How many children?" He thought he'd heard something about a school, but he couldn't remember from where. Could have been Bo's thoughts, could have been a conversation; he'd already forgotten.

"If you don't want water magic." They'd only just dried off, just to get back in. Hate it or love it, he was already comfortable with the temperature, which was half of his dislike of water, to begin with.

But Bo was heading back inside, so that was his queue to follow, shaking off again.

"Just shy of our first hundred." He beamed. Yes, that was certainly pride in his tone. Life had been difficult, of late, but that didn't change that he was doing precisely what he was called to. That much remained consistent.

That and his family.

Charles wouldn't have minded more magic; he thought only of Olek's comfort. After all, they'd met while he'd been hiding from the rain. It didn't feel like just that afternoon.

He followed the pair inside, grabbing his discarded towel to pat the dampness from his hair.

Olek wore his love language on his sleeve; an unwavering aspect since 1879. Not that he could fathom the date. Most memories felt merely years old. He couldn't bother with dates no matter the reward.

{Text: Angel} Everyone is safe. They're studying. Do you need me?

"Mm!" Olek looked to his soaked feet, remembering for a moment he was a cat, but smiling just the same. "My first mistress, we made-" Oh, what was the word? The invention was recent, he'd swear! "-water balloons! Sometimes with fish in them!"

"How many um, masters have you had?" Leslie asked.

Olek held up five fingers, to the witch's surprise. It hadn't dawned on him that a familiar could have more than one.

[Text: Dearest] Always. But I'm fine for now.

Sufficiently soothed, Charles slid his phone back into his pocket. That wide smile finally reached his eyes.

"Water balloons? The children would love that." And not merely the ones he'd officially adopted. He'd narrowly escaped becoming a victim of water battles on more than one occasion.

An eyebrow lifted, at the familiar's response to the posed question. He'd known Vincent had been around for quite some time, of course. Perhaps Olek had him beaten in years.

"Quite a history. Would you like to get out of this rain?"

That had already been decided long ago with Bo's next scheduled lesson at Charles' school. He'd been curious about this man since his own curse was still going strong. Nothing had changed.

Another ball to catch, this time with a singular hand and a bit of a jump. The ball was given the same squeezed treatment. Smaller and smaller into a rich cobalt orb of uncast light. The ball was launched into the air and caught with both hands. Given back to its creator with an underhand toss. The charm was to the touch and impossibly smooth, shifting like sentient restless silicone beneath Charles' fingertips.

"It'll burn out in a few days. It's yours!"

He reached with both hands to catch the ball of light, his smile broad as he examined it. The vibrant color appealed to the telepath uniquely. Truly a gorgeous blue.

Another magical gift. The familiar clearly had a generous spirit. "How lovely. Thank you. I can't wait to show my boy. He loves color."

A bit of an understatement, really. He wondered, idly, if Rory would be able to impact it at all. The child would certainly lose hours doing so, if he could manage it.

Thoughts of his family had Charles turning to stare off into the mist, pocketing the orb. He took a deep, steadying inhale and fished his mobile from his pocket. He just needed to check.

[Text: Dearest] Are the kids all right?

"I beg your pardon," he said, turning back to Olek with his smile reaffixed. "Could you do the same with other elements? Transform, say, a ball of water?"

"I want to see that!" Olek's smile was still strong. Leslie wondered if it ever truly went away, while also wondering if he'd ever met the girl in mention.

"You want more?" There was a promise and a taunt behind the familiar's tone. Of course he wanted more. This was his purpose. Charles wasn't his. Wasn't even an awakened mage. But at this moment, he was Charles' living node to siphon.

Charles dipped his head acquiescingly. "If you ever decided to visit my home, I'm certain you could charm your way into a demonstration. She's a sweet girl."

A bright smile was his only response. Scholar's fingers flexed again before he summoned another fireball. This one he willed across the yard much faster than the last, utterly confident in Olek's ability to protect Bo's precious roses.

Bo followed behind the group carrying Olek's towel, wondering how this had become his day, and remembering, oh yes, it was because of the familiar, standing tall and pleased in the mist. This creature detested water, but would happily soak for a chance to play and encourage others. This had been his life before, and it was his life again.

"Yes, sir!" Olek laughed, bouncing on his toes. It had been so many years since he'd seen a sleeper wielding magic. It was truly a sight to behold. As often as they were criticized and belittled by nearly every faction, they were a hopeful phenomenon in his eyes. Charles was beautiful, and that's all there was to it.

His thought as he reached with both hands, catching the flame as one would a tossed ball. The energy of Charles' spell was squeezed, the sphere becoming smaller and smaller between his palms, until tossed high in the air, bursting out as glittering yellow-green fireworks.

His smile grew broad and toothy at the display. Only years of careful control allowed him to suppress the impulse to actually applaud. Absurd.

"I know a little girl who can do something similar," he beamed, pride evident in the warmth of his tone. "Not with a fireball, mind. Just from the tips of her fingers. Absolutely brilliant."

Well, surely he could afford to indulge in a bit of harmless amusement. He flexed his fingers pointedly, grinning at the familiar. "Another?"

"Don't set my roses on fire."

Olek gave one more shake, but there was no more water to disperse. "I'll catch it!" He wanted to see and feel this magic Charles knew. Curious what a linear mage could do, and that's exactly what the telepath was. Or, as some unaffectionately called them, hedge mage. Really, when did that word become taboo?

"Me, me, me!" said the familiar, already heading back outside.

"Your roses are perfectly safe." He certainly hoped so, at least. He'd managed not to cause any property damage in his games with Leslie and Tristan.

Laughing, Charles followed behind Olek at a more measured pace. This truly did feel more like a demonstration than anything. In his infrequent lessons with Leslie, it felt less so. They rarely had an audience.

"Ready?" he asked, positioning himself across the yard from the familiar. On confirmation, he'd summon an orange-blue sphere of flame with relative ease. They'd practiced that much. This wasn't quite like lighting stones or logs. He willed the ball slowly across the space, trusting Olek to catch it.

"Us, too," Leslie winked, giving a playful tug to Charles' collar. "Throw all the fireballs you want at me."

Olek gasped! "Fireballs? You can throw fire?"

"I want to see that," said Bo.

"Well, yes, technically." He raised a cautionary hand. Oh, Leslie, what have you started?

"But I hardly think a single spell is worthy of a duel. Especially seeing as you're the one who taught it to me in the first place. Really, we've played catch, Les."

He shook his head, but he was smiling. Charles could be a good sport. "Oh, very well. Not a duel. A... demonstration, I suppose."

"Maybe. Hey, Mr. Nowicki, wanna have a go at me?"

"Ask again when it's not raining."

The witch was pouting, taking an extra towel for himself to hug, arms on the kitchen counter. "Fine." He was back to grinning. "One day we're gonna have a go," he said, offering a towel to Charles.

"On that sunny day, I want to be here to watch," Charles added, flashing Leslie a smile.

He hardly needed the towel. Les and Olek had taken the worst of the water. The professor was a victim only of the fine mist that still clung to everything outdoors. Still, he took it without argument, wrapping it around his shoulders to perhaps wick some of the moisture from his jumper.

His shoes seemed dry enough, he bent to pull them on as well.

The towels were placed on the kitchen counter. One draped over Leslie's head with a relieved sigh. He'd been just about tempted to shake the same as Olek. Had been a temptation since his first complete transformation into a barn owl.

He was still thinking about what he'd said.

"Nah. I'll just be wet again in a minute, I think. Call it a hunch. Your shoes ruined?"

"Thinking of having another round, are you?" He grabbed his discarded coffee from the table, mostly to occupy himself. He visibly winced when he took a sip. It was far worse, now that it had gone cold.

"My shoes are fine. I just didn't want to track water into the house." A concern no one else seemed to share, but that hardly mattered. Charles was who he was.

"You're kind to Olek." He grabbed another towel for good measure, heading out of the room. "You're welcome any time."

What remained of his doubts were dissolved from this day forth. Half of which had been discarded their first lesson in New York.

Olek was waiting at the foot of the stairs, smiling as wide as physically possible at the sight of his master. He knew, and said nothing, taking the towel Bo had brought especially for him.

"Thank you." The sentiment was sincere, accompanied by a small smile that he still didn't direct fully at his host. "And of course. Olek has been a delightful surprise. He's a fascinating individual."

The familiar's grin wasn't meant for him, but Charles returned it, all the same. He nodded as he passed, shoes still dangling from one hand while the towels were cradled in the other. He offered the stack to Leslie when he reached the witch, that Cheshire cat smile still in place.

"Here you are. Think you'll need to stop home for a change of clothes?"

The towels were placed in the professor's arms. If he insisted. Bo decided up the stairs that resistance was futile. In many ways, Charles reminded him of the witch downstairs.

"You've been through something. I don't know what it is, but, Leslie is behaving differently." Not to mention everything Olek had poured into his mind upon arrival. There were no secrets between them.

But Charles' shoes were so interesting.

"Do you... need anything?"

He was quite satisfied to have been given something to do. Making himself useful now that the fun of the duel had passed. He blinked in shocked silence for a moment at Bo's observation. Unexpected.

Charles cleared his throat, recovering quickly. He took no notice of Bo staring at his shoes, because suddenly the house's unique décor was even more fascinating than it had been previously.

"No," he said, just as quickly. "Thank you, no. I'm perfectly well. Allowing me to pop in unannounced is more than enough. I appreciate it."

"No, but, all right." Chalk it up to a house tour. Up the stairs he went. To the laundry-linen room behind more sliding doors. Black appliances stacked atop each other, a close line ran from one wall to the next with three pressed suits of various colors, and one of Brett's uniforms at the end.

Three enormous gray towels were pulled from one of the cabinets.

"You still don't believe in revenge?"

His blue blooded manners were absolutely lost on his current audience, but damned if he could abandon them. They were far too deeply ingrained.

He followed quietly behind, holding out his arms in offer to carry the towels once Bo had grabbed them.

"I'm afraid not," he chuckled, shaking his head. Despite the laugh, he was utterly sincere. "I still believe it causes more problems than it solves."

Charles matched the witch smile for smile, that laugh finally bursting forth unbidden. It was simply impossible to keep at bay, when Leslie was involved. "Oh, make no mistake, he bested you thoroughly. No contest. But your effort was truly admirable."

He laughed again, utterly without apology. "You're soaked through, though. That can't be comfortable."

"That's how I wanna go out. Admirably," he laughed, squeezing the water from his shirt. Olek was already under the safety of the patio, shaking off the rain as one would expect from a cat.

"I'll get some towels," said Bo.

"That's the way to do it. I'm glad you're in one piece." He made his way back toward the house, avoiding tracking water inside by removing his shoes and letting them dangle from two fingers.

"Need a hand?" he asked, following after Bo.