Erik gives Charles what may be characterized as one of his uh, fondly withering looks at this, and disengages Charles' hands firmly to wrap one in his longer fingers, more or less stalking down the hall off the kitchen and towing Charles with him.

The room he's staked out is deeply incongruous to Erik, patterned in benign, light florals as it is, but frankly at this second he cares less about the decor than he would if the room were on fire. (Just as a for instance.) Before he actually crosses the threshold though, he does take the trouble to stand pointedly in front of Charles until he can kill the nearest camera with a gesture that's the sharper and more violent cousin of flicking water from his fingers. "Guarded enough for you?" he contends with acciculate interest, eyes sparking dangerously.

It's a largely rhetorical question, considering his next move is to sit on the edge of the bed (still leading Charles as long as he's willing to be led) and center his hands carefully at Charles' hips, looking up at him in--some disbelief. He still expects to wake up at some point, and given the events of the day it doesn't seem all that unlikely. Frankly the only thing that makes this solid, other than the bizarre, heady feeling of skin under his fingers, only separated by far too many yards of fabric, is the fact that this has been the least nightmarish part of his day. "This wasn't in my plans for the day," he says, because if he doesn't he's going to say something weighty enough to crack his own resolve. "If you told me I was dreaming, I'd believe you."

So there it is anyway, that weighty thing; it feels flighty and like so much treacle, but Erik never says anything he doesn't mean.