Eliminating hunger takes off the jagged edge of anxiety in his stomach but it leaves behind something more hollowed out in his wake. Charles lifts the glass of water Erik had given earlier as though suddenly aware of his thirst or maybe just to do something with his hands so he doesn't reach across the table and tug. It's a complicated mess of emotion, a twisting, spiraling thing that builds between them. Charles isn't sure of himself and he wants to keep the only thing he is sure about as close as possible.

"My knight," he murmurs, glass clinking as he puts it down, "Yes, I know."

It's part teasing because how could he talk about it with all the earnestness it deserves? Erik would laugh, or perhaps Charles would laugh at himself.