[oh, he says at first, and by that single word alone, klaus already knows quentin didn't want him to wake up. the realization has him blinking with consideration, absently licking his lips and glancing toward the window, although he doesn't withdraw or retreat back to his own bunk.

everything in his mind is shouting "shut the fuck up, quentin's upset," which is something he has no trouble listening to (the fact his mouth feels like it's stuffed with cotton might help, too).]

Yeah...? [only proves to confuse him more, but.

rather than segue forward into uncharted territory, klaus (astonishingly) holds his tongue until quentin reveals he's not as alright as he's claiming to be. a daydreamy little flicker of his eyelids is all he offers right away then he's clearing his throat, attempting to coax himself into thinking more clearly, speaking with more eloquence, despite the lingering fog.]

Hey, it's okay, [he reassures softly, curling his fingers around his friend's shirt and tugging, an odd, surprising sort of gentleness. q needn't immediately face him, but it's not going to stop him from inquiring,] You wanna talk about it?

I know I'm probably not the person you want to be spilling your guts to, but... [a weak gesture from his other hand.] I'll listen and help however I can.