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Fortunately for him, the stranger must see or sense something of this, because he says, "My name's Erik. It's an effort not to grip the cabinets behind him to keep himself steady. Erik." He reminds himself he's got a name now, even if it's likely not the stranger's—Erik's—real one. ""I'm here to keep an eye on you," Erik says calmly, gazing up at him with an expression that says he's not going to be moved by Charles' anger or imperiousness, or anything Charles might say to his pronouncement. He can't decide if it's anger or betrayal or more fear that's filling his throat, only that there's something unpleasant tightening his breathing and flooding down into his lungs."Did my family send you? "Because if they did, you really do need to leave.""The man your family sent is the man you should be worrying about," Erik says. He'd like to pause long enough to get his bearings, but he's afraid that might take quite a long time."You know," he says, "this theatricality is rather off-putting.

Is it really that hard to say what you bloody well mean?

"There's an art house theatre on campus doing a marathon. If so, I've got..." He winces as he mentally pages through his wallet. You can have that and all the stale bread you want."Sighing, the stranger drops the quarter and folds his hands in his lap, regarding Charles steadily. I wouldn't mind another sandwich, though.""I am not Charles to you!

Maybe they'll let you sit there in your bathrobe as long as you buy some popcorn."The stranger hums. " Charles informs him, hearing his voice start to spike upwards to hysterical shrillness.

When he was sixteen, he gave up any claim on the family fortune just to escape.

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"Now, he says," ignoring the creeping anxiety in his gut and the stranger's steady gaze, "why should I even listen to you?" Charles says, and the indignation gives him a surprising amount of strength. I'm sorry I'm not on my best manners, given you broke into my house and then went through my belongings.I think I'm allowed to be a bit put out."Erik smiles at him.When Charles Xavier was five years old, he worshiped his father.When he was eleven, he learned to loathe his abusive stepfather.

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