The case is warm in his hand when he takes it. He opens the lid, eyes the liquid inside the syringe that lies nestled in the box, almost innocuous in its existence -- she doesn't need to finish for him to know what she means. Charles wields a terrible power, worse if it goes out of control, but Erik would be damned before he lets his lover suffer a moment more, trapped in his agony and clinging on to the tattered dregs of a control that is slipping so dangerously from him. Erik meets her eyes, and he can see the way she stays almost respectfully out of his personal boundaries.

It's a difficult choice to make, but Erik doesn't hesitate, especially not when his lover is deteriorating before his very eyes. The fight he puts up in his mind is felt so very keenly by Erik, and his jaw sets -- this is worth a shot, because quite frankly, Erik is hard-pressed as to what to do for Charles to possibly make this better.

But first:

"Get out of the house." He strides over to his side of the bed, where Charles is currently on, pulls open a drawer and pulls out a set of keys, tossing it over to her. "Grab the others, all of them. Drive as fast as you can, the Aston is parked outside."

He sets the case on the coffee table far out of Charles' reach as he addresses Moira squarely. "Get out of range. There is a flat I've rented in the heart of London, it's far enough out of Charles' mental boundaries. The address is in the glove box compartment in the Aston."

Erik looks back at Charles, then -- his expression unreadable, even as his mind roils with thoughts, with the fact that he is most willing to risk everything, even himself, if it would ensure Charles' well-being. He'd be here to absorb it all; keep his lover from being alone and hurting himself.

"I'm giving you half an hour."