His gaze lingers on the claw marks the longest-- where and how and why? --as he steps in and, well. Moves towards the mattress. He doesn't sit down on it, though, because the floor is good enough. Cross-legged, leaning back against the side of it, it isn't much different from back home.

Being the visitor is a bit awkward, but the resulting company is okay. Kind of like how it used to be, years ago, just in reverse. Kind of. That far back isn't too clear anymore.

He eyes the mattress next, picking at the outer part. "..Really can't get much of a decent sleep on these, can you?"

In other words, Lenalee, he's concerned about your health. Not that he's in any better a state, really..