[ at least this is a much easier conversation to have, though it's a little off-putting to transition his thoughts from some (obviously) reckless endeavor to something simplistic like clothes and material objects. a glance down at the shirt he's wearing, and maybe that offer isn't such a bad idea. (he already misses the jacket that had been disposed of, if only because his things from home are now rather limited.)

larus' expression thins just slightly. ]

There's nothing I want that you can buy me. [ it's a quiet sort of response. ] I'd like to have whatever it is I need from you so I can go where I want without being stopped by the guards, but beyond that... [ a shrug. ] I don't mind keeping things the way you like them in here.

[ maybe, over time, he might come to add some personal touches here and there, but even before he'd died, he'd never really been the type to hold onto such things. there's a brief urge to reach over and touch him, but not while they're talking about any of this. ]

If there's anything I want in the future, I'll tell you.