Kieren follows along and sits awkwardly on the end of the bed, not sure whether he ought to be the one on the sofa. He feels tired and guilty and a touch annoyed, yet, but it's just his irritation and panic from the night not having anywhere to bleed off to. He strips off his sweater and his trousers, sitting there in a t-shirt and his boxer shorts, staring at his hands.

"I'm sorry," he offers quietly. "I know you're only concerned because you care about me. Sometimes, I'm not great remembering that it's not just me," he admits, which had happened back home. "I can be selfish, I know I can."