Adam gave a quiet laugh at the little jibe, a clear mental image dancing through his head of his new neighbor scurrying through the flat after he had gone, repairing the aesthetic damage Adam might have made. It was best, he knew, to leave such objective decoration to the particular eyes which would have to look at it for a prolonged amount of time. He did not dare consider what his own space might look like were he to give the creative reins over to someone else; the thought of attempting to do the same to someone else was to him equally untenable.
Instead of dwelling on such things Adam turned himself again to the task at hand, dutifully reaching down into the box, coming up with a stack of assorted books. He unabashedly read over their covers and spines as he set them aside.
"No point at all," he agreed. The first stack of books met the counter with a careful but solid thump. "But there are some good remixes and mashups out there, you know. Sometimes reworking something makes it that much... more. You can't count them all out." He thought for a moment. "I mean, look at Cash's cover of 'Hurt.' You can't really say the original was better. Can you?" He quirked a black brow, looking up, as if the answer might color more than his assessment of Richard's taste in music.