[Magneto's grip tightens on the mug as Rochelle enters and he elects to stay silent while House preforms it's hosting duties, tilting his head slightly and looking up as the drone scoots out. He's lost a little over twenty pounds, not that he's noticed it, and even for him, he's pale - lips almost bloodless looking, skin too tight around his eyes which dart constantly, hair tied back but not carefully combed to look polished, and the set of his jaw and shoulders are tense, drawn, like someone expecting an explosion at any second. And his eyes, normally a vibrant, piercing blue are almost grey. It's also one of the extremely rare times when he's not dressed with red somewhere.]
no subject
Good afternoon Rochelle.
[Even his voice is flat, dulled out.]