Charles could feel Raven's mind pushing towards him, so he opened up to accept her thoughts as the rare gift they were. The confusion and frustration running through them did clarify things for him, and he allowed himself to laugh when she poked his shoulder. He swatted at her hand playfully and tsked aloud, which is the kind of sound only certain middle aged British women and Charles can pull off properly.
"Pest. And I know you don't. It's just a good thing not to make a habit." Charles leans back a little on one hand and looks at Raven thoughtfully, and not without trepidation. What he's thinking of telling is something he never has before, despite how much he trusts her--because it hadn't mattered before, and if he could keep one additional from having to be hers to shoulder that was better. He had also been afraid for a long time what she might say, if she'd think less of him. No matter how confidence he had in her acceptance it was only human to be afraid that he would be wrong.
But none of the others had mattered as much as Erik, and he wanted to see about testing the waters before diving all the way in.
"A TA in my first year of biology at Oxford," he said, softly, "Mark St. James. He was a few years older than me, and very handsome. I wasn't aware at the time that seducing freshmen was a...game for him. I suppose I was arrogant enough to think I was different from the rest."