Erik was not one to believe in the paltry stories of ghosts and spooks, yet something still ran cold in his blood, particularly when a loud crash of thunder and sputter of lightning shuddered the nearby window.
Quite suddenly, Erik finds himself in a very clumsy dance with another physical person.
“Erik? Where are-ah.” Charles reaches out blindly to give Erik a hand getting back up, their arms haphazardly knocking together a few times before he can get a good grip. “Can’t see a thing, I’m afraid. Sorry for bowling you over like that.”
As soon as they’re both standing straight, Charles careful touches Erik’s chest, then his arms, making sure to place him in the pitch-dark of the hall. Or perhaps to calm himself down, as his heart is still hammering away in his rib cage. His voice drops to a whisper, “What are you doing at this hour of the night, friend?”