He probably knew that he was looking.
Graves, that is. It's not Hayes' fault that he's bored (one can only make so many cups of coffee) and putting up Christmas decorations would be much more fun than doing nothing. He should (and wants to) get up and help but he's too nervous. Because, what if he doesn't want help, or what if Hayes gets in that way? He's fighting between giving into his kind side of giving in to his anxiety. Sometimes, Hayes wishes he was like Finley or Reese, someone who's outgoing and fun and doesn't care what other people think of them. The kind of person who had lots of friends and lots of people like being their friend. As if he could sense his feelings, Graves began to talk.
"When I was younger I used to be terrible at talking to people. So, instead, I used to visit these 'Therapy Cats'. I used to go and read to them all the time." Hayes tilts his head, slightly confused. He wants him to talk to cats? Graves, once again sensing his thoughts, begins to speak again. "Not that I'm telling you to talk to cats," he says with a small chuckle. "Unless you want to of course. No, I'm just saying that a lot of people experience a lot of the same things as you and that everyone deals with things differently because they're affected in different ways. So don't beat yourself up over not being able to talk to people." And, with that, Graves jumps off of the stepladder and takes a step back to look at his work.
"Remember, I'm always here if you need me." He says over his shoulder as he carries the supply's over to the kitchen. As he door swings shut behind him, Hayes smiles.
"Thank you."