"Sure," he nodded, but just kept standing there, as if he'd somehow forgotten what he'd just asked already.
"You did?" he asked, tilting his head a little and examining her expression, wondering why it was that she would care. He had been a drunken idiot, there was no reason for her to care a jot if he ended up passed out on a viewing platform or whatever. Was there? He'd care, if it was the other way around. Was that anything more than a gentlemanly concern? He was staring. Stop staring, stop it.
"Oh, sure. I... I didn't think of that," he admitted, and then cleared his throat. "All of his things are still here. His nine year old things. They're still..." he stopped, feeling that sudden rush of emotion he was trying so hard not to let out, and didn't trust himself to keep talking.
"Coffee," he said instead, and turned quickly to head to the kitchen.