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" Hurry up, Xavier. I don't have all day," Manson - Charles judged it as characteristically now - did not bother to hide his impatience with any form of graciousness. Charles attempted to ask the nurse to help him with his bags. But she, anticipating his request, walked away before he could say a word.

He resented the lack of respect he had received so far.

He had come to Israel, hoping to forget what had passed before, in the earlier part of the war. Staying in the war camps had made him think of that day... the day he had returned from the battlefields, wounded and still in recovery. The day Moira had written to him, to break off their engagement.

He wanted to get away from the camps that reminded him of that day... of his heartbreak. So he had come to Israel. He had hoped to start anew, with new friends, and perhaps, new love. But it seemed that, he was not welcome here either. He would be a ' freshman', and would be at the butt of the ' old guard's' scorn.

He felt hurt, and resentful. As if out of defiance, he accosted another passing member of the staff. The man was also a doctor, about Charles' age, with violently red eyes.

" Excuse me, sir, but could you help me with my baggage?"

Manson cleared his throat loudly, glaring at the new doctor in their midst. " I'm sure Dr. Lensherr is engaged at the moment, and we wouldn't want to presume upon his time..." He shot the doctor a warning look.

Charles sensed that this man was not an accepted member of the ' old guard'.

Another new doctor, such as I am.

Curiously enough, Dr. Lensherr seemed in no hurry to obey the whims of his superior. Instead, he looked Xavier up and down, as if sizing him up. He then turned his gaze upon Manson. His face held no expression, but Charles sensed that there was no love lost between these two men.

" I have no appointment at the moment, and I would be honored to assist Mister - "

" Doctor... Dr. Charles Xavier."

" - Dr. Xavier with his bags."

With that he picked up two of Charles' suitcases and politely waited for Manson to move off. Manson did just that, but not without glaring at Lensherr one more time.

Charles moved alongside Lensherr. He sensed that the man's politeness was merely a cover for something... and that something was greater than just simple resentment towards an irritating boss. This man, he sensed, is far more complex than what he shows on the surface.

He wished to probe deeper. At other times, with other people, he very likely would have. But with this man, he hesitated.

This was the first man, so far, who had shown no hostility or coldness towards him. And he did not wish to probe his mind, and rob him of his privacy.

For some obscure reason, he liked this man.

And as they walked side by side, some distance apart, he sensed that Lensherr too, felt the same way.

And, for some reason, he took comfort in that fact.


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