Shock flinches over Severus's face like he's been struck. His posture snaps back, straight, regarding Charles with disbelief but-- sharp black eyes bore into those dull ones and Merlin, he really did it.

Something twists in his stomach. Horror but grief, too, because he understands now why Charles looks dead inside. He is. The life and drive that was always coiled within him, to learn, to help people, isn't just dulled by cigarettes and hard liquor. It's gone.

"Why?"

"Horseshit," he snaps immediately, expression angry, crude language made even more harsh-sounding coming from such low and normally refined tones. How can Charles be so deadened about it?

"You're not a normal person," spat out like something derogatory, "walking or not." It's a subject they've never spoken of in depth, though Severus knew from it being mentioned in passing reference. He caught on; a sore spot navigated around, now laid out flat. "You'd have used something else if your telepathy weren't a factor. You're a scientist no matter how drunk and desperate you get, Charles, I don't believe for a minute you'd take such indeliberate steps."

"I don't care if you don't want to hear it," Severus bites out, clearly revolted. "You need to hear something, you're clearly not even hearing yourself. How dare you talk like that about freedom and your people. How the hell are you angry at me?"

Who are you and what have you done with Charles Xavier, basically.

"Yes I can." Severus crosses his arms, still frowning at Charles. There's the beginnings of an incredulous, humorless laugh in his voice. Who does Xavier think he's talking to, someone who's not a complete asshole on his best days? If he didn't want Severus to jab into him like this he shouldn't have said anything. He shouldn't have even opened the damn door.

"Am I supposed to feel sorry for you? Because things hurt and were hard so you gave up?"

In his mind's eye, weakness radiates off of Charles like heat and it almost makes Severus recoil. This feels like a personal offense somehow; as thought it's all made worse by the fact that he bothered to think Charles better than something like this. Most people Severus is more than happy to write off automatically but this is-- a waste. An absolute waste of someone truly brilliant.

"No. I don't think I'll waste any more time on either."

Severus raises his gaze to keep level with Charles's, but doesn't look intimidated or chased. What are you going to do, his expression seems to ask, throw an ash tray at me?

And that's--

That's it, really.

Severus recognizes that he could be upset about this. It's hovering there, the disappointment and maybe even hurt. He chooses not to feel it, kicks it off somewhere behind walls he's built with Occlumency, where it'll either wash back up someday to be inspected remotely, or die off. If Charles still has any of his own perceptiveness left, maybe he'll see the cold indifference that slips into place behind Severus's eyes. He's not addressing anyone he knows, anymore.

"I'm revoking your clearance to Xenogen. If you had any off the record patients, it'll be the least you can do to forward their information to Nuala or myself."

Severus stares him down for another moment - longer than he tells himself is worth it - daring him to say something.

(Hoping he'll say something.)

Finally he makes a disgusted noise and turns around, all but punching the panel that opens the door. "Merlin help you if you ever pull your head out of your arse," he practically snarls as he storms out. A few paces down the hall he snaps "Prick." It's followed by a barely-there sound of the soles of his boots turning sharply over the hallway floor. A cracking noise.

And then there's nothing.