As Peter spills the rest of his guts, Manabu rubs his back with one hand, leaning his weight against the doorframe with another. Gosh, he can't help but feel sorry for the poor kid: spirited away on some mystery-train with a bunch of strangers is bad enough, but apparently being delicate to every other thing in said train is a bit much! He'll have to go sniffing around for hazmat suits or some other kind of PPE for the kid before he accidentally breaks an arm or something...

"You're fine," he assures, giving him a light pat. "People get sick! It's normal. Just don't push yourself."

It's not like any of them have anywhere urgent to be or something...

He straightens back up, yanking a hand towel off its ring and offers it when Peter resurfaces, politely keeping his focus just off of him, then over his shoulder, listening for sound of footsteps. If the roles were reversed, he's sure he'd rather not be gawked at, either.