[ Their words don't make him feel any less awkward, goofy, touched by their kindness, both the gift and what they say. It's just one of those things to put up with: a good thing, nothing bad about it. What's horrible about having friends be kind?

Even if it reminds him of home; the invitations to dinners, the faces of those who lived nearby. Fans, but neighbours too. Even he can still experience a familiar warmth like this.

Something he shouldn't be able to anymore, but... ]

Alright then. I'll get a book! [ Ahh- ] I need to write down everything I say I'll get... wasn't I supposed to get you something, Inigo?

[ Now that he thinks about it... another book? He thinks... ]