If Charles isn't willing to rise Erik takes up that space for him almost immediately; he wasn't expecting an answer back to that although maybe he should have been. His answering laugh is brittle, as if he's laughing at himself for thinking this could be so simple, and so - even if there's no fight to be taken, yet - he does take it to Charles, unfolding from the edge of the sink to drift closer like a ghost. He imagines he can see through his own hands as he lifts them, palm up, imagines he can see all the small easily breakable bones in a gesture that looks like supplication and is just the opposite.

"There's nothing to learn. Do you have any idea what it's like to be hungry, Charles? I don't mean peckish, I don't mean you lost yourself and missed a meal, I mean--"

There's no articulating what he means. He could, but to dredge that up--he cannot afford for Charles to pity him an ounce more than he already does. Charles has to be believe that Erik is untouchable, unbreakable, that nothing can get through him. If he doesn't believe that, then how can he possibly believe Erik can protect him?

He's looming, and aware of it; he's never used his physicality with Charles this way, bracing a flat hand on the table so that his shadow falls over the slighter man--but then they have never discussed anything so personal between them. (what do you know about me?) "You can't imagine what you'll become willing to do. And you won't. I won't allow it."