[Nothing stirs in Kaworu's expression, while he listens. He remains like a swath of silk, smooth and quiet in its adorning. Then, when he opens his mouth to speak again, he sounds very patient—tender, even. A clean, white gauze.]

It doesn't seem silly to me. Touch is overwhelming just by itself. When you go a long time without it, touch becomes disruptive. It is denied its wondrous comfort, exchanged instead for the spike of an alarm. [His smile lifts. It's not exuberant, still very gentle, but there's something encouraging and more than that. Commiserating, maybe.] Yeah, it's alarming. But it can get better with time.

[By the way, he doesn't accept compliments. Instead:] Caring may not be all that much, in the scheme of things. But I am glad to do it.