The fact that Erik is driven to be moving at most times and taking care of things even when he's nominally still may be the only thing that saves him here, since when Charles levels that particular honorary at him he's turned mostly back to the sink with both sets of dishes, and is thus spared any need to explain away the sudden flush that attacks somewhere behind his ears. It's gone far too quickly to catch, as is the trip in his heartbeat like the trigger of a landmine, and his cough gives almost no indication how thoroughly through him that murmur went.

"Barbarians," he disclaims, of knights, sounding like it's a joke. "So indiscriminate in their slaughter the chivalric code had to be invented. If you're suggesting I have a penchant for violence I'm hurt."

Yes. Absolutely that's what's going on. He rinses their dishes and dries them with the sunflower printed towel that hangs over the faucet, brushing his long hands free of water when that's done. "You've noticed we're distinctly lacking in perishables."

It's not a question, and considerably more serious than any facetious banter about knights. (His face still feels very warm, but if he's still colored it can't be helped; he refuses to hide as if a lack of eye contact could save him somehow.)