He offers Glacius a tentative smile at first, but knows he should do better than deflect the alien's concerns. Perhaps he can do more for him by agreeing to let him help -- Carlisle knows he would like the opportunity to do the same, should Glacius need him.

"I will be hungry later, no doubt," he admits. "I believe I could use some tea, if I could trouble you for it. It would help settle my nerves as I meditate." Or write. Or pray. Anything but sleep. Now that he's awake and again aware of Glacius' injuries, he'd prefer not to do that.