Then why did you ever let me believe we could - [ Charles is suddenly, irrationally angry, glaring at Erik with such impotent fury that he'd be so cruel as to try to take this out of Charles' hands altogether. ] You don't - you're not supposed to -. You'll die. A few weeks, some pity fucks and a couple sorry words and you march off to your death because my ideals suddenly matter to you? What sort of insane rationale is that?