( it's curious, and a part of him feels guilty for the way that he watches the stranger like he's trying to learn something more about him--but he finds it interesting that the other scrubs at the tears with his free hand, instead of using the towel he took with his other hand. there's something about the action that pulls at him, makes him uncomfortable if only because he feels such a sadness watching it happen: it makes him feel like this stranger likely spends a lot of time consoling himself, instead of being consoled by others.

it means, of course, that when he tries to hand back the towel, shouto pushes his palm gently against the offering, guiding both the stranger's hand, and his towel, back towards himself. )

No. I can take care of it. ( there's no anger or frustration in his voice, but more a soft, solid determination. ) It's my fault, and I should fix my mistakes.

( mismatched eyes stray towards the tables near the perimeter of the parlor--well, he can't force someone to sit, especially if they're not injured. but that doesn't mean he wants the stranger to help him, so he nods to him, faintly: )

...Watch my towel for me instead. It might run away otherwise. ( without any explanation of whether that's true or not, he moves past the stranger, aiming to work his way over the counter in order to hunt for cleaning supplies. )