He'd woken up slumped against the stone lip of a fountain, a device cradled in his hands, blue and yellow leather leaving a cold prickle against his skin. Now he looks at it for the first time, piercing blue eyes alarmed but severe as they peer into the screen. It's a computer, but not one that he's seen before and he lets himself examine it for a moment. It's almost easy to pluck the information out of a passing stranger, the unusual little box and it's communication methods. Charles doesn't necessarily like the thought, invasion of privacy and the so very obvious broadcasting of his helpless location but if he wants to get back to Erik and the children --. ]
Hello. [ Clipped, English accent and all, Charles still sounds so very young. Like a child trying on his father's suit. His own brow furrows, chastising himself internally. ] My name is Charles Xavier. It would appear I've gotten a little ... turned around. [ Undoubtedly. This feels more of a English-American mix and not the sand of Cuban or the irritated buzz of Russians. He thinks momentarily of the red-skinned teleporter before deciding that's not what happened. ] I don't entirely know how I arrived here but I do know I was with a group. Four teenagers, a young woman and another fellow. If anyone could help me get in contact with them that would be much appreciated.
[ Already he has the sinking sensation of the world sealing itself off. But he can't be a pessimist, that wouldn't do. ]
( ooc: So if you'd like your character to get that little psychic shove of worry off Charles feel free. There's probably little way to figure out that it's him unless you know him but if you want to notice it go ahead. Also I have a permissions post if you want to opt out of him reading you. )