ERIK HAS HAD IT WITH THESE <s>snakes</s> ALIENS and they haven't even done anything yet
Once most of breakfast has been demolished (as he assesses from the various states of food coma into which people have fallen, because he is just lulling all of you--not really) and Erik has either carried himself or directed other hapless youths into carrying plates and etc into the sink, he positions himself at the head of the table, sitting forward on the edge of the chair with his arms crossed in front of him.
It's not exactly War Room posture, at least not yet, but it does project a certain sense of commanding urgency. "You all know why we're here," he begins without the preamble of so much as clearing his throat; he simply expects that whatever stray chatter may be drifting around the room will stop to listen to him. "If you don't, I suggest you take a look outside."
That rhetorical device employed he doesn't really wait before going on. "Some of us came here together. Others did not. Your point of origin is immaterial; that's not what unites us. We're here because we're aware of a potential threat."
He glances at Charles here; they talked about this alone before this meeting was arranged, and for right now he's at least tempered in his desire to, for instance, launch the missiles he doesn't have right at the ships. "I say potential, and at present that's all that it is. If you don't believe in the possibility that our visitors may come with ill-intent, you can walk out of this room right now. No questions asked, no grudges borne. That decision is your own."