The brief hug is returned firmly and warmly before Paul follows Midoriya's cue to stand. It's good to be on their feet, Paul thinks, even if his head performs an interesting series of acrobatics when he does rise from the couch. He counters this with an arm raising stretch over his head. It's good to be moving in a direction away from that tense, strange series of moments.

It is fine. Paul reminds himself of that as he slings an arm around Midoriya's shoulder again and proceeds with him to the kitchen, where water and possibly eldritch Tang await them.

"If you do, you can stay with us," Paul assures him, grandly, because they're still having fun - they're going to have fun, he's determined, until Midoriya forgets all about whatever has him so upset. He's always looking out for everyone else. Paul may not be as good at it as he is, but he's capable of this much: of closeness, of hospitality. Of a glass of water and secrets kept. These are the critical things in the world, at least for tonight.