[They're things he can do. Even if they don't help, they're things he can try. It's a small illusion of control, and Keith will grasp at it tightly, because the other option is admitting that there's nothing he can do. Not for himself. Not for Shiro. Not for anyone.

He turns into that touch, and even now he's seeking out the coolness of metal fingers, a fleeting comfort, though the comfort of Shiro's touch lingers. His lips stretch into a ghost of a grin.]

My own personal cooling station, huh? Sounds nice. I'm still okay though. Just... I wanted you to know, before I start not realizing they aren't real.

[Though he'd have to be pretty far gone for that, he thinks. Hearing his father's voice can only be a trick of his mind.]