"Put your money where your mouth is?" Ned guesses. It's curious to him, the difficulty that Erik seems to be having in speaking. He never struck Ned as the chattiest guy (though he had had a few glimpses of that glacial wit of his), but there seems to be a genuine struggle, now. Probably a consequence of being turned into a clay, giant version of himself. A little side-effect, like Ned's trances. "It means following through. Not just saying you're gonna do something but actually doing it."

It clicks for Ned, then, that Erik is referring to his earlier offer of protection. He feels his face flush with a mixture of gratitude and embarrassment that he had cause to back up that offer so soon. What Erik doesn't know (or at least, Ned hopes he doesn't know) is that not so long ago, River was making good on her promise to keep him safe. He's somehow, in this time and this place, become a burden to those around him.

He doesn't want to think about this anymore, doesn't want to dwell on his own uselessness. If he does, he's worried that all the leftover adrenaline and intensity from his encounter with Tony will make him weepy and fragile, and that's the absolute last thing he wants right now.

So with a force of will he focuses his attention outwards, on Erik, on his rather fascinating new shape. "Do you mind if I...?" Ned, rendered strangely tactile by his own transformation, reaches out towards Erik with one hand. He watches the other man, gives him every opportunity to move away or shake his head if he wants, before resting a hand on his forearm. Ned starts the first time he does it. He hadn't expected him to be so warm. But then, getting past the shock, he repeats the motion. It's not a trick of the light - he really does feel like clay, rather than flesh.

"Do you know what you are?" Ned asks, simply. After all, he doesn't have a name for what he's been turned into, so Erik might not, either.