<hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://blogs.psychcentral.com/creative-mind/files/2013/08/EmmaWatson5.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Rahne Sinclaire<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Headmaster's Office<br/><strong>Date/Time:</strong>September 2nd 2017, Mid Morning<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Charles Xavier<br/><strong>Content:</strong>Arriving exactly on time for her meeting.<br/><hr/><br/>"Of course, Professor," Rahne said, managing a slight smile as she walked forward to place the apple on his desk. Now she just felt awkward. And she had to remember the skeptical expression Laura had about the plate of breakfast she had saved for the raven-haired girl the day before. Was she out of line, getting food for people? Shaking the thoughts away quickly, she sighed, and moved to take a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk. She had to stay focused. While she knew it would be impossible for her to hide any thought from the telepath in front of her, she also knew he would do his best not to go digging. If she didn't think it or say it, he would possibly never know. Or, at the very least, act like he didn't know. And after all he had done for her, the last thing she wanted was for him to be upset with her. Or regret helping her.<br/><br/>"Well, it's not like Ah have many ot'er places to go," she said softly when he said he was happy that she was still there. Realizing how that sounded though, she shook her head, cheeks flushing red. "Ah didn' mean it like that. Ah mean...It's nice havin' somewhere to belong..."<br/><br/>Mentally kicking herself for being a fool, she was quickly indulging in her nervous tick. Her hands moved back up to the cross she wore around her neck, playing and fiddling with it. She smiled softly as he, once again, asked for permission. The fact he did so every time was nice, reassuring. While she could hear the Reverend condemning her for such, an echo of the man that manifested of the darkest aspects of her subconscious, she was getting better at ignoring it. Mostly. With all of her problems though, inviting in "the devil's servant" to poke around in her mind was one of the least of her concerns. And she knew Professor Xavier only had the best in mind for her--Moira trusted him above all others, and that was enough for her.<br/><br/>"O' course, Professor..." she nodded, granting the permission he asked for. When he asked if there was anything else, though, she tensed, hesitating, as a thought came to her...Could he help her with her sinful thoughts? "Ah...Maybe? Ah don't...know..." she murmured.<br/><br/>The professor might do his best to stay out of Rahne's private thoughts, but her head was such an unfocused mess that it would be almost impossible to not get glimpses of her troubles. Flashes of Laura's excited-to-the-point-of-goofy smile at having her new Wolverine uniform, and the view of her strong, fit torso when she started stripping. Those were quickly replaced by feelings of shame, images of a cold, dark room back in Scotland, a man scolding her for some kind of misbehavior. The sly smirk of Netty, her new roommate, a curiosity about being held the way Laura cuddled her pillows at night...And, of course, her nightmare. Reverend Craig leading a sermon where Laura and Netty and so many others she knew at the school casting her out, condemning her to Hell, for being the creature of sin and the spawn of Satan that she was. In the Reverend's words, anyway.<br/><br/>All the while, the girl just sat in the chair, eyes downcast to her lap, playing with her cross, trying to not think of any of that, and so briefly thinking of it all.<br/><br/>"How is your mornin' going', Professor?" she asked, trying to start some kind of talk, "Any, uh...Any more movie nights before classes start? Ah really liked the last one your showed, um...Ah'm sorry, Ah forget the name of it."