[ Before the teen even speaks, Charles knows what he is. Mutants have a certain feel to them, a brighter spark than mundane humans, an energy that resonates more directly with his telepathy. He makes his apologies, but he's unprepared for the sheer anger that blasts his way, as hot and pressurized as a blast of fire -- not anger at the telepathic invasion, but the contents of that memory.

Charles' expression softens, his own grief mingling with concern. ]

You shouldn't have had to see that. I'm so sorry.

[ He instinctively wants to soothe him, to press a wave of calm in his direction and reassure him. But his anger is entirely valid. It's the same as Charles' own, the same fury of witnessing mutants mutilated and murdered. The only difference is that Charles' emotions here are old and well-worn, oft retrod, but the teenager is witnessing this for the first time. ]

It was in the name of science, and a program that was designed to keep mutants in check. [ His tone is wry, bitter-- but gentle, still seeking to reassure. ] It was stopped, and justice was done for those mutants. It's a small consolation, but it's all I have.