Erik turns toward her, an eyebrow raising at her-well-forwardness, to be frank. Not a lot of people questioned him about things. It wasn't as though he were unfriendly, but he very much did radiate an aura of ask-me-nothing-ever that most respected. Somehow, it doesn't feel disrespectful coming from her. He lifts the coin out from his shirt and shows it to her, displayed on his hand. "It's worthless," he laughs a bit. "Just a pruta, from Israel." He'd never spoken of where he'd been prior to the hotel before, and the words don't quite come so easily to him. "I lived there for six years, after-" he stutters a bit, gazing at a point past Daenerys's shoulder. "After my family were killed. After the war. But there was another. When we moved there, our neighbors didn't like us. So we fight. I suppose I keep as a reminder. That we had our own place now. Things wouldn't be as they were."