It's a difficult question, this one, for a whole host of reasons—he's not even sure what name might be given to the way he feels about any of it. Thankfully, no one has pressed him to do so. The last thing anyone needs is for Erik to be cornered on top of everything else.

"Not her," he says, to avoid the most sensitive subject of his lost little girl as gracefully as he can. "I didn't know about her... nor her brother. I don't think he's here." That's good, he thinks—though not at all for the reasons that would occur first to anyone familiar with Pietro's relationship with his father. Erik doesn't know for certain that the twins are his, but he desperately wants them to be, even if only in some bizarre cosmic way, and to imagine that even one of his kin might avoid being trapped in this city is...not comforting, exactly, but close enough.

"She has children too," he adds, very quietly, and looks to Charles then, perhaps to gauge his reaction, or perhaps just because. Either way, it's an oblique glance, seeming not terribly confident. The resolute dispassion of his face is beginning to soften; by now his eyebrows have lifted to a sad and curious angle, just faintly, the usual knot lines between them.