Steps faltering in order to not steam through Zevlor, Kael's hands automatically reach out in a way that makes him feel instantly uncomfortable. To an onlooker, it would look like nothing more than two broad hands about to steady somebody else by the shoulders. For Kael, it feels like somebody else lifted his hands, puppet strings responsible for the way his fingers itch to splay and then clamp around something delicate.

It's a similar feeling to the creeping sensation of wrongness that refuses to abate no matter how enthusiastically he has tried to participate. Celebration seems like something anybody would enjoy, and yet he hasn't stopped feeling as though there's a shadow following him. A shadow that has been casting such a long way that he's desperately worried now about what might happen if somebody steps on it.

His icy eyes meet the flame of Zevlor's and, for a moment, he gives the tiefling the kind of look that isn't completely outside the realms of drowning and hopelessly looking for aid. The immediate follow on thought becomes so viscerally pungent in its intensity he only comes to again when he's almost on top of the man offering him a steaming cup of something. He'd been barely aware of stepping closer.

Blinking in his confusion, he frowns and shakes his head as though trying to loosen whatever had taken hold of him. An apologetic kind of grimace pierces through moments later. And eventually he finds his voice again as he gives Zevlor more personal space again.

"Is it that obvious?" He asks, smiling guiltily before adding in quick succession: "I like your people. It is... just discomfort at feeling at a disadvantage."

His eyes drop to the proffered tea, lips at least tugging into a more appreciative smile as he seems to flex his hands by his sides, shaking them out somewhat before even thinking of reaching up to accept the drink. Though eventually he does, fingers controlled to within a millimetre as he accepts graciously.

"Thank you."