Kieran instinctively blinks in surprise when he feels Charles' hand on his arm, showing brief glimpses of eyes that are fully intact, but don't quite focus before he shuts them again. He stiffens, too, just for a split second, before he relaxes. Time in Anchor has gotten him used to friendly touches and physical contact that aren't mired in quid pro quo or false pretenses, so it isn't the touch itself, but rather who it's coming from.

It isn't that Charles had been exceptionally mean or aggressive when it came to the always skittish Kieran. He'd never even come close to that. It's Kieran's own reluctance when it came to approaching Charles combined with the latter's deep-rooted association with the Van der Lindes that concocted the perfect breeding ground for half-assed assumptions that effectively boiled down to various renditions of 'he probably doesn't like me'.

Which makes the slow, slightly crooked smile that starts to spread across Kieran's face all the more relieving. He's happy that Charles sounds like he's doing well, but, selfishly perhaps, he's even more cheerful over the idea that he's actually being invited to sit down and share the same space with him.

"Sure! Th-thanks!"

Kieran needs the guidance, and if Charles is willing to provide it, then he's not going to rebuff the offer. It helps, too, that he doesn't have to explain what's going on in regards to his sight. That's another relief.

Once he's settled, Kieran waits a moment before he speaks again.

"I-If I didn't know any better, I'd say we're home. It, uh, it feels like home. I dunno how to explain it."