There were times when Evan was sorely tempted to do just that. But all he could think of were George and Danny, surviving out on their own without the comforts of a safehouse and groups of people protecting them. He frowned and moved on to another shelf, peering through knick knacks and various little comfort trappings that were more or less valueless, until he came across a small brass piano. He smiled. That would be a wonderful little trinket for Danny. Snagging it, he dropped it into his backpack. "I do, sometimes," he responded to her question, opening a couple of drawers. "More for my siblings than for myself when I do, though," he added as he pulled a small music box out of a drawer. It had one of those spinning ballerina's in it. George would love it. He hoped.
"Pretty much everything I do is for my siblings more than myself," he added under his breath, figuring that she wouldn't listen or hear.
He shrugged. "Suit yourself," he mused as he slid the book into his personal pack. "They're good for trading just as anything else, though. People like to read, they like comfort. So much that they'd trade things that they probably shouldn't trade for books and comfortable trappings. Evan couldn't remember the last time he'd been able to relax and read a book. His private time was always interrupted to be sent out into the madness.
Arching an eyebrow, Evan shook his head no. "I haven't," he told her. "Was just curious as to whether it'd be a waste of time or not," he said, sliding the book in between the music box and a couple unopened bottles of water that he'd found on the floor in the hall. "Now that I know it won't…" he wandered in the direction of the kitchen.