Kaworu's bleary list lines up with what Paul recalls of the night, each word touching off mnemonic cues that at first reassure him. Alcohol, sugar, dehydration, and lack of sleep explain most of how he feels, including the hovering anxiety. He'd been so sure he'd been handling himself better than that.

He'd felt sure he'd been handling himself well at all, but the soft hair tickling his fingers evokes the feeling of the nape of Kaworu's neck under his hand, and - he's not sure, a clutching worry that he has to remind himself is at least partially depleted neurotransmitters.

"We...came up here?" He squirms in the bed, which is at least large enough for all three of them, and whatever lumpen objects they apparently dragged in to line their nest like Iskierka. "I should have had you drink more water. I'm sorry."

He strokes the fringe of Kaworu's hair again, soothing and conciliatory.