Ned tries to imagine what it would have been like, if he'd met another mutant at that age. He doesn't question the fact that Charles' sister is someone he met, rather than someone who was born from the same parents. After all, River is as good as a sister to him. Blood isn't the only thing.
The affection in Charles' voice is clear to Ned, now that River has given him the information he needs to put it in its proper context. Otherwise, he thinks, he'd just have dismissed it as a very fond friendship, the way he had up until recently. He's heard the story Charles is telling, too, from River. It's different hearing the way he relates it, the emphasis that he puts on Erik's frankness and pride in his nature.
"I've seen him reveling in it," Ned concurs. He'd wanted Ned to revel in his own powers, encouraged him to work towards accepting the whole of himself, rather than merely scattered pieces. Whether or not that is going to be possible is still something he isn't so sure about. Erik doesn't have all the information, after all. He doesn't know the sorts of things that Ned has done with his powers.
"You know, I can't even imagine it," Ned keeps his voice light, but he's betraying how deeply the conversation cuts in little ways - the way he's sitting, the way he's poking at the slice of pie without taking a bite, the way he isn't meeting Charles' eyes, "Growing up without that fear." Fear has been one of his fundamental impulses, since he was nine years old. It's woven into every part of him, now. Probably inextricably.
"Generally speaking I don't think it's a good idea, taking kids away from their families or their homes. But I'm sure-" he chips away at the pie crust with his fork, "-some young mutants end up without families or homes, because of their powers. Giving them somewhere to go would be... a pretty good way of making the world a better place, if you ask me."
It would probably be obvious even to someone without Charles' powers that Ned had once been one of the kids he's talking about.
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The affection in Charles' voice is clear to Ned, now that River has given him the information he needs to put it in its proper context. Otherwise, he thinks, he'd just have dismissed it as a very fond friendship, the way he had up until recently. He's heard the story Charles is telling, too, from River. It's different hearing the way he relates it, the emphasis that he puts on Erik's frankness and pride in his nature.
"I've seen him reveling in it," Ned concurs. He'd wanted Ned to revel in his own powers, encouraged him to work towards accepting the whole of himself, rather than merely scattered pieces. Whether or not that is going to be possible is still something he isn't so sure about. Erik doesn't have all the information, after all. He doesn't know the sorts of things that Ned has done with his powers.
"You know, I can't even imagine it," Ned keeps his voice light, but he's betraying how deeply the conversation cuts in little ways - the way he's sitting, the way he's poking at the slice of pie without taking a bite, the way he isn't meeting Charles' eyes, "Growing up without that fear." Fear has been one of his fundamental impulses, since he was nine years old. It's woven into every part of him, now. Probably inextricably.
"Generally speaking I don't think it's a good idea, taking kids away from their families or their homes. But I'm sure-" he chips away at the pie crust with his fork, "-some young mutants end up without families or homes, because of their powers. Giving them somewhere to go would be... a pretty good way of making the world a better place, if you ask me."
It would probably be obvious even to someone without Charles' powers that Ned had once been one of the kids he's talking about.