"I'll get to it." It's a tolerant kind of annoyance, though, like he's enjoying the fact of bickering. He could use a couch, if nothing else - at some point, his back is going to start giving him hell if he spends every night contorted on the floor.

Locking drawers probably won't get as much use as they probably should, though - how will he startle awake and pull guns on people if his guns are locked up?

Blissfully unaware that he's hosting a sleepover as well as a picnic, he pulls out the sandwich he'd ordered. (It's mostly meat - eating vegetables feels weird right now.) "Sounds good to me. It's weird that so much of the food here is recognizable, isn't it?"