"Hey, hey--" Because Christ doesn't he recognise that tone coming from his own mouth sometimes, when he was desperate enough, but he still moves forward to put his hand on John's shoulder, make sure that his weird flaps of robe didn't get torn or anything.

And more quietly, to John. "Just- give him a minute."

But he'll reach over John, to the pile of assorted abandoned warm things on the couch, and tug one of the blankets out to roll into a ball and toss at Charlie's feet. Let him make his own decision with it.