Giving up his headphones does hurt a bit. It's one of the few things Minato has from home, one of the few things he takes comfort from without any difficulty, like trying to open up to others causes him. Talking about his problems still makes him feel like he's gotten something stuck in his throat, physically blocking the words from coming out. He has every intention of asking Hiro for a replacement mp3 player, one he can give to Ken once he gets his back, but the headphones themselves he feels are irreplaceable. He wouldn't cry or anything like that to lose them, but he has to admit he'd mourn a little.

Perhaps it's ridiculous to feel that strongly toward an object, but as time goes on Minato can't quite believe it's real that he'll one day be alive again back home. For all his faith in Elizabeth, that seems a distant dream and not his future. He'll probably never get a chance to see those headphones again if he loses them, after all the years they've spent with him. In some ways, they're more important to him than his Evoker.

But to make life easier for Ken-- life in a very literal way-- he doesn't mind lending them out.

"I know." Minato directs him gently toward the bed, tugging on his free elbow. "Come sit with me." It's a nice convenient cover for having them both sit down side by side on the edge, Minato wrapping one arm around his shoulders in a half-hug, drawing him into his side and waiting with all the considerable patience he has for Ken to settle.