"...if it's not too much of an interruption, Mr Gideon." Which, well, it won't be, because he's likely made all sorts of little contingency plans for the horribly emergent situation of one of his Faces suddenly needing to be fed and cared for.

It's a genuine comfort.

As is sliding up to the side of the table, hands politely held at bay, and asking an entirely habitual question. "I don't suppose I could help?"