Erik's hackles are still mostly raised by the presence of a potential threat, the disquiet of the half-sketched memories he can't quite bring into relief sharp enough to examine, but he lets Charles' hand in his hair and at his temples wear the edge off of that, eyes lidding a fraction of a degree. They snap open when Charles elucidates the previous days' events, though, shoulders drawing tight, Erik's long fingers settling around the other man's delicate wrist and holding on as if he can make an anchor out of that. "I won't leave you. Not again."

That he thinks he can say that with any kind of surety speaks of some phenomenal arrogance, given the givens, but he wasn't prepared this time, that's all it was. The next time - and really, he has no reason to thin there won't be one - he'll know what the onset of that falling feeling means, and be able to fight it. "And if she's still here, I'll find her. If not--"

Well. He'll let that speak for itself, namely if Raven has really been taken from them, Erik will add it to a remarkably long list of grievances for which he intends, through time and patience, to exact horrifying vengeance for as soon as the opportunity arises.