[Charles almost projects that Merlin's fine, he's a friend when he feels that protective alarm from Alex, but is pleasantly surprised again when Erik's sign of trust apparently does the convincing for him.

He holds still and manages a sort of sheepish smile for Merlin when he finishes, but he can't really help the smirk that forms at the comment, because, well.] Evidently, I'm not, otherwise I'd be having a terrible reaction to the three of you being here.

[He carefully peels back the fabric from where the injury had been to check Merlin's handywork and sees the wound had closed, leaving a scar, but not much else, besides the blood all over him. It still hurts, but more like a bad bruise than a openly bleeding stab wound, and he's definitely still feeling pretty weak, but he's fine, just like he'd more or less known he would be.

So he lets his head clunk back against the mattress and sighs, suddenly feeling the exhaustion hit him like a freight train, quasi intentionally projecting appreciation and gratitude and concern and something like guilt to them.]

Thanks. Sorry to worry you.