The discrepancy between Midoriya's innocence and his fixation on preparation for sensual acts makes more sense by the moment. Some kind and optimistic soul once inflicted an eggplant demonstration on him, Paul assumes, and he simply incorporated it unthinkingly into his arsenal of Heroic future actions.

"I was aspiring to provocative," Paul says, lightly, his smile positively feline, "I'll take sentimental."

Exchanging a look with Kaworu, he's fairly confident that at least he catches the intent, although they'll have to make sure they're in accord before they head downstairs.

"The sun still isn't up yet," he observes, recalling Kaworu's promise to rise before dawn (Paul's internal clock must have been thrown off, because it feels much later than that, but the edges of the curtains remain dark), "I think you should indulge Kaworu, at least until it does. Look at how tired he is of dealing with us already."

Does that make any sense? Not at all. Does Paul care? Not in the slightest.

"I'll go back to calling you Midoriya-kun if you do," he adds, as one more incentive.