The overwhelming flash of memory Erik experiences at the phrase Ned uses, the way he approaches that simple curiosity has almost nothing to do with the man himself--suddenly it's as warm around him as if the sun has come out or he's in the presence of a thousand candles; he can feel an autumn wind at his back and the burn of overuse in whatever muscle memory governs his mutation, even if it's--

It's like having it back, just for a second, and it's like feeling that light-accented voice in his head where it belongs, like--it's just like being warm, on the inside as well as the outside that Ned can feel himself. That memory that Charles had coaxed out of a place he hadn't even realized he'd forgotten stays with him; it's paralyzing in its loss at the same time it loosens everything, makes his limbs almost like they should be again, and there's an instant where he doesn't know what to do with himself at all.

Ned's question lets him recenter himself; if his voice catches it was already doing that anyway. "A golem," he returns, just as simply. He knows his folklore, but it's too difficult to explain, so he summarizes as best he can: "A protector. A monster. Brought to life by faith."

Since they seem to be having a conversation now, even if Erik has moved his arm out of Ned's reach, letting them hang at his sides not loose, but ready, it seems like in polite company they ought to sit down. But he hasn't, really, since the change; his new height is strange, but not horrifying. "Some irony, I don't have any. What are you? Besides edible."

....sorry, Ned. Erik is, uh, still the same jerk in many respects.