Given that Midoriya lived in house clothes and various states of unwell until today, he can forgive Paul for appearing in his. There's nothing to forgive, really, in all of this. He looks at two pieces of sky-glass, hears his name spoken in just one voice, and his throat tightens.

"It's me," he says quietly anyway, despite knowing, with unease, how well he can be recognized up close despite his coverings, by the set of his shoulders or the way his hands grip the straps of his backpack--out of habit; it's not heavy. He doesn't yet know that Palebloods are having trouble seeing faces.

"May I come in?"

This is unusual. He usually waits to be invited in, whether or not he's been asked over. It's not just how things are done, but how he always gives others the chance to decline interacting with him at all. He throws a small, fleeting look over his shoulder.