'Uncertainty is a sign of humility, and humility is just the ability or the willingness to learn,' - Charlie Sheen.
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I TURN MY BACK TO HIM, indicating just how done I am with this absurd conversation, "A waste of time, is what it is."
Cradling a cup of black alluring substance in my hands, I slurp loudly for emphasis.
"You see it as a waste of time, I see it as an opportunity to gain knowledge," Xavier retorts, and my shoulders tense.
Instead of sending him another futile glare of annoyance, I watch the swirling black liquid in the cup. I try to take another sip, but a tremor to my limbs prevents me, and I instantly put the cup down, while cursing myself for not being able to control it.
Still avoiding his gaze, I glance out the window, chagrining at the moon which is merrily playing hide and seek by cheatingly concealing itself in the sun's illuminating rays.
Like I didn't have enough to think about.
Persistently, Xavier takes place in front of me, his arms folded on the table while he waits for me to acknowledge him and his obstinacy.
I snort as I capture his mocking haughtiness, and roll my eyes, still refusing to answer.
My irate emotions continue to boil under my skin and I attempt to immerse myself in the cup of pitch black tar, hoping it'll subdue them and my wayward thoughts.
I've never understood the different effects coffee has to me versus Xavier. Where his energy picks up, mine becomes tranquilized. There is something about the caffeine that tires my enhanced energy depots better than any liquor, which provides me with a small gesture of comfort.
Taking in the mixed signals my body and mind are giving me, I welcome the anesthetic to try and tame the influence of the forthcoming full moon.
"My condition isn't something you just look up in public records, Xavier. It's not a medical condition." My lips twitch in disdain, "Human scribbles are no place for lycanthropic diseases. Our genes are far more advanced than your mediocre understanding of human competence and capabilities," I glower into the cup.
He begins to lightly tap his fingers on the table, however his features remain blank and patient.
I groan, tightening my hold on the porcelain as I realize my slip up. Carefully, raising my gaze to meet his, he rhetorically crooks a brow.
To say I did not have trouble with differentiating myself from my old life would be an understatement seeing the indoctrination has a tighter grip on me than I would prefer, resulting in my fractured tunnel vision.
