Being apart is almost a hum in the bones of his hands, which Paul flexes at his sides to keep them preoccupied with something other than reaching for Midoriya's shoulder or brushing over his hair, down the subtly visible line of his spine through his fitted shirt. He knows enough to admit to the anxiety under the impulse, but still, it remains.

"Thank you," Paul says, graciously soft, as he fills the need to hold something by taking the box two-handed. He also knows enough to remember his manners. (The name on the box only darkens his eyes for a moment - a young woman's place of safety, her retirement from the field of battle, and then Paul -)

"And you're here now." He smiles at Midoriya with only traces of trepidation in his nearly manic relief. "Let's go to the kitchen and I'll put these away."

Paul begins the short journey to the room in question, nodding to a passing skeleton as he goes.