Erik put his fingers to his mouth, thoughtful, and then he approached his son. Slowly, as if reaching for a wild animal, he put a hand on Pietro's shoulder. The touch was reassuring, but brief. He drew back again and folded his arms, frowning.
"I've sent others back to search for survivors, for more of our kind." He seemed to weigh his next words carefully, unsure whether he wanted to say them. It was risky, he supposed, to give Pietro any hope. Hope, however, might foster loyalty. Belief perhaps, in Erik again, and in the cause. That was the end game, after all, to use him. "I will have them look for your wife," he finally offered. The move was calculated and, he thought, believable in his obvious omission of any offer to find Wanda. After the monster he had been all of Pietro's life, Erik knew that if he appeared too generous or earnest then his son would never believe him.