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I see your cocoon metaphor. :|
Words fluttered quietly around his mind, as they were wont to when faced with someone emotionally venting. They stuck to him and fluttered off, swirling like a large cloud of insects, occasionally worming their way into his consciousness like parasites breaking the skin. Like a skilled entomologist, Shino sifted through the flutter of tiny wings to mentally tag each flickering thought. It was the easiest way to wade through the deluge of most conversations: allow, classify, analyze, comprehend.

The idea of dead kittens in the mail was certainly a facetious one, most likely more to prove a point than anything else. Shino let it brush past him, face as immobile as ever. As the words swarmed more, a confusion of missing details (like not being able to count the number of legs as something flashed past), he filtered the information with other indicators; the way Sakura dragged nails over the back of her hand, the glance out the window, the rapid firing of her lips as she stared down at her hands.

She was lost in the romantics of the story. The emphasis on the word 'love,' on a childish age, on inventing problems and excuses and complicating things in her own mind so that she could justify her emotions rather than getting them organized... The young Aburame took it all in without a word, without much of a tick or change to the calm knowing look he was fixing on the woman on the other side of the table. The closing sentiment of the rather rambling little monologue brought the slightest tug to his lips. His shoulders dropped a hair, intensity of his gaze falling back to a more comfortable and bearable level of friendly watching.