He inclines his head, then, mostly at the pen-flick. It's almost playful, like a half-baked fake dodge of some imagined ink. Some small acknowledgement that, yes, they're still friends, he's reacting accordingly even while he's - like this. In a mess.

The rest will... have to sit for a while. Maybe they're trying to be light about it by being so blunt. That he recognises. He still has to think on a few things.

He can be straightforward, though, in the meantime - he has always been good at that.

"I know you are." He stops to think. The finger keeps ticking against his upper arm. "You're a help."

What a vast, dizzying understatement.

"You're a big help," he tries again, and it still feels like it falls flat.