"I don't know how much I have in terms of maturity, Charles," he answered with a smirk. "I did almost throw a fit when you asked me to come over - because it required getting off my couch and putting pants on. I suppose it's a sign of how much I enjoy your company that I didn't do as much and that I'm here now." He glanced down at the hand touching his, curiously. Touch was something he didn't allow from many people, but from Atheism it was... well, not unwelcome at all. He just wasn't sure how to respond to it. He wasn't exactly a touchy being.
"I don't trust them," he said. "Phones and the internet, I mean. I don't trust anything that I don't have some control over. It makes me nervous," he admitted. The truth was, the same rush of excitement he got when he was neck-deep in a new conspiracy also made him feel horribly out of control and lost. He remedied that by telling others, by having a conviction so strong that people just had to believe him. Sort of like he remedied the chaos in his life by having everything in it in perfect, categorical order. Not having control over something or not being able to figure out a way to feel in control over something made him tense and nervous. It was hard for him to trust people, things. So he didn't go around them. Except Charles. And Charles had never lied to him.
"I like being here as well though," he finally answered, nodding. He pulled his hand out from under the other man's and brushed fingertips along the inside of his wrist and down his palm, giving permission in his own subtle way for further physical contact. He liked that he was allowed to be the one to give that permission. Sometimes he was just too nervous, too neurotic. Tonight, though, he was a feeling rather good about everything.