Roxanne Taylore was a wildcard, to be sure, and Charles had certainly seen his fair share of wildcards. Never one to be tied down, she had used her abilities to evade the scope of Cerebro to the best of her ability, appearing only at the corners of Charles’ consciousness upon her rare slip-ups and staying just ahead of those that would keep her down. She presented a welcome and invigorating challenge, one that Charles couldn’t help but feel the need to engage.
He had wanted to contact her for quite some time, his (admittedly somewhat irrational) desire to make contact with as many mutants as he could notwithstanding. His curiosity was piqued and he suspected that it would stay that way until he finally took initiative.
Sean, noticeably irritated (and perhaps slightly repulsed) at Charles’ passive-aggressive attempts to find Roxanne, had provided him with a temporary phone number, insisting that the older man simply call her and get it over with. As invigorating as the chase might have been, Charles decided that the Irishman’s request was reasonable enough.
Charles punched in the number, gingerly and waited for the phone to ring. She didn’t answer, but that was to be expected. It could hardly be that easy with her. It never was. Sighing, Charles left a message.
“Ms. Taylore…Roxanne…My name is Charles Xavier. I’m well aware that we haven’t met but as a…well, a mutual friend of Dr. MacTaggert’s and given my interest in interacting with fellow mutants, I believe that it is high time that we make acquaintance.”