"Yes," Charles replied, his words quick and snappish, mouth setting into a terse line as he stepped back to stare at Erik. "Yes, for once you're absolutely bloody right, you are in the wrong place. Pity that didn't occur to you before you made the trip and brought the whole damned government down on our heads."

The impulse to throw a punch was acute, even with Erik seeming so winded and out of sorts, and Charles curled his fingers briefly into a white-knuckled fist before the urge passed and he shook them back out again. Outrage sang sharp and sweet through him, his prevailing thought that of how dare he: How dare he turn up here, how dare he mount an escape, how dare he exist in a space where Charles had to look at him. Beneath it all was the distinct knowledge that had it not been for that last meeting at the Nexus, years ago now, he would have swung.

"I don't suppose you've a plan," he bit out, throwing his arms angrily out. "If you think I'll hide you here, you're wrong."