To say that Erik puts the troubles of the moment aside would be a lie; he never really puts anything aside. But one of the perks of thinking the way he does is that he can keep his anger and talk of something else, especially if it interests him. If he were a creature of softer manners he'd consider early on this might lead into an argument, but for one he obviously is ...not, and for another he never minds arguing with Charles. It's invigorating, intellectually and--socially, he supposes, although he's never sure what the right word there would be. Socialization doesn't seem to encompass all their friendship has become in so short a time.

He aims his knife like he's making a point with it, cutting the air with a short, steady jerk of his wrist. "When mankind learns of the existence of mutants, have you given thought to how many children will be turned out of their homes? How many husbands will cut ties with their wives? They'll all need somewhere to go, and they'll need to know how to defend themselves. If you can do for them what you did for me--"

Something catches like the click of a key turning at the back of his eyes, and he clears his throat and sets his knife down, knowing full well he's not just talking about the unlocking of his mutation. "You made me--more myself. Imagine if you could give that gift to every mutant. We could make them strong together, Charles."

They just have to get home first. And Erik must kill Shaw. Then he'll be able to move on, and if this is the future, then--it's better than of the alternatives he's never let himself hope for.