Regina had moved her own hand to proffer it, and let it fall back by her side, now, lips pursing in a sort of amusement. "Regina Mills," she responded with a congenial tip of her head as she moved around to check the saddle that had just materialised on her horse, but she was distracted at that point by the horse herself, her palm smoothing across her glossy shoulder. "It feels so real," she murmured, letting her hand rest there. "I can feel her breathing." She turned back to glance at Charles with an almost embarrassed expression. "If this place can create... all this, from nothing - from lights and 'forcefields' and sensory trickery, this... magical science - if it can do this, how can we know that any of what we're experiencing here is real?"

She chuckled, then, shaking her head. "My apologies, Mr Xavier. You appear to have caught me in a philosophical moment - blame the horse."