Eren still has his pants on; being shirtless is sort of a state of being for him since a little while before he got here. Clothes who? He doesn't give a shit.

He's stiff for a long moment when Dylan's arms come around him. Eren has never been good at comfort, not even back when he was relatively normal. Now he's all hard edges and weird bullshit that he can't escape from, even in his own head. But he does care about Dylan, obviously, so eventually he manages to just hold him and let him cry.

I used to cry like this, he thinks. When was that? A hundred years ago, feels like.

"It's hard to really hurt me," he says, which isn't exactly an answer. He kind of likes hurting anyway, the violence of it, something familiar in a strange place.

He realises how his answer sounds and amends, "No. I'm fine. That wolf thing packs a hell of a punch, though."

His eyebrows knit together just a little, the briefest hint that he's still actually a person despite his trying to distance himself from feelings.

"Don't worry about me. Are you sure you're okay? That transformation looks like it hurts."