"I am aware of that," Erik speaks softly, casting his gaze to the ground beneath his feet as he attempts not to look at Charles as he cards through his feelings and beliefs on such a topic. "But I am afraid that thirty-two years of persecution or fear thereof has rendered such a belief rather innate," he admits, looking up as he presses his fingers harder to the edge of his glass.

And always, the question begs itself; would they still feel this way if they knew what I could do?