"Lots," said Ellie simply. She began gathering the bottles, inspecting each one individually before slipping them into her bag.
The hardest thing about scavenging was deciding who got what afterward. It was rare for her to want to keep things for herself, unless she had particular need or some whimsical desire; most of the time, Eloise's findings were divided between strangers in need and people she knew or cared for. It gave her some small happiness to do these things, which was enough payment. Lately, too, she'd gotten the idea that if she felt enough small joy she might come to feel more than that eventually -- like developing any kind of ability, with practice and dedication.
It was true, though, that the past month or so had made her wonder what it was worth to feel anything at all. Life had been undeniably more easy when she'd been hollow, like a drum, a doll without a heart. Regardless, though, something had drawn Eloise out of the wild and back among people again. She'd wanted this. Instinct was something to be trusted; that was what kept people alive.
And people need people, Ellie thought. I need people. Even if it's hard.
This made her think of Rousseau, and how he'd accompanied her without question. Rising to her feet, Ellie approached the opposite side of the counter to observe his findings; for a long moment she said nothing at all, now and then pointing quietly at an item he'd missed or overlooked. Then she smiled.
"Thank you for coming with me. I'm not supposed to go out alone anymore, so... It was nice. Nice of you."