[ It's not a huge surprise, that that's enough to scare Aragaki off. He hadn't even wanted to be here in the first place. It was just the only safe place he could think of, Kim realizes with a pang of -- something. Guilt, perhaps, for not being sufficient at the task of comforting a young man who had just witnessed a brutal murder. Remorse that of all the kind people here, Aragaki had decided to latch onto him. And a little confusion, too; they hadn't done all that much together.

Aragaki has nowhere else to go. That much is clear. Kim is not a man that enjoys putting himself out for other people. It does not come naturally to him. He is intensely internal, intensely private; his space is his own, whether it be physical or emotional, and he guards it ferociously. To allow another person to stay here for anything other than a crisis goes against his nature. But so does sending Aragaki back out into the cold unfeeling night, not even the sussuration of crickets or quiet chirps from the street cats present to accompany him back home.

He will offer once, and only once. He does not chase people down. But he will hold the door open, just a crack. ]

You're welcome. [ He pauses. ] I don't say this only out of concern for your mental well-being. You were, technically speaking, an accessory to a premeditated crime. We have already seen people be punished for less. The fellow who had woken up handcuffed, for example. It may be wise to have someone with you in case something similar happens, if not only to see if someone comes in.

[ He gets up and paces over to the kitchenette, putting his own mug in the sink. He shrugs. ]

You can stay for the night. But it's up to you.