Tidus moves, twitches, at the individual touches. Not pulling or shrugging away from them, but in these moments, he's reminded how unfamiliar they are. Not entirely--he's not so touch-depraved that he doesn't recognise their meaning, that he's never been hugged, held a hand--, but there's a level of unfamiliarity that has him not knowing what to do with their weight. But he doesn't want to draw the attention to himself, to his heavy heart, so he keeps in place, his gaze cast low yet somewhere out at sea.

"I'm fine," he replies. Simple, slightly monotone. "I'm just... thinking. Before I came here... I made a choice."

And he doesn't want to draw the questions to that either if he were to leave it there, and says in the same low spoken tone, "You can't take back what you do."