[He has enough decency to know that's not something to pry into. The feeling from across the mansion is more than enough to understand enough of the context to realize exactly what nerve it was that he'd happened to carelessly strike. And yet they both seem to be hitting similar buttons for each other for something almost ridiculously pedantic. At the core, she's...right.]

Wanda, I'm-- [There is no way to say this that won't sound off.] --sorry. I didn't... [What, Charles? Know? He knows he never asked, never really tried to delve into it, and whose fault is it that he didn't put the pieces together when he'd had most of them to start with?] think.

[He sighs, and as his shoulders slump, he can feel the tension that's wound in through the course of conversation. The desperation, at least, seems to dissipate, but it leaves the upset behind, woven into every minor ache.]

I think you're right. [In part, at least. That unwillingness to repeat loss speaks to that enough. It wouldn't be the first time he'd agreed on some fundamental pain while disagreeing, also fundamentally, on how that should be handled.] I do want to see them safe. I just...

[With one just coming out of a week-long coma that has his nerves frayed, and two more battered and bruised and just barely still breathing, all he can do is worry.]

I sincerely worry that they're not ready.