Erik takes the alcohol and the glasses and settles into a sitting room, pleased enough as he smirks at the other man. "We're supposed to be embarking on one of my calming sessions," he notes evenly. "I'd rather talk about your speech. Honestly, Charles, you gave me chills of inherent delight when you announced this would never be your home. I don't think I've ever agreed with you more on a point."

Erik, he of a displaced home more times than he can truly count, feels as if he ought to know about this. Idly, he scratches at the bandages that still cover his wounds, pulling them a bit tighter as if trying to cover up the memory.