[ He merely nods in agreement, not contesting it. Harold even before his disability wasn't a combatant. He can barely bring himself to hit someone with a lamp or to hold a gun in his hand at all; he's not about to put up a fight to a friend who's in true distress coming out of a nightmare. Throwing something is much safer.

There's something tense about Carver, but he can't put together why, and then he just thanks him. Harold assesses him with muted interest but doesn't ask. ]

Believe me, I usually sleep behind two different security systems and multiple locked doors, in complete solitude, [ he says dryly. ] Frankly I might join you out here on occasion if you don't object.

[ Harold is open to being told to leave him alone, but he does think himself so transparently not a physical threat that it may be acceptable to Carver. ]