He can also tell who is knocking, before they even do, having felt their approach. Good time to come say hi. The window curtains are open, he has enough light to sit in that squashy chair and read under his blanket, covering ribs and spine and legs as if his usual outfits wouldn't be enough for modesty. It's a decent illusion of normalcy.

He opens the door with a projected hand instead of getting up, nodding to them. [Hello.]