His mouth twitches, the closest she's going to get to a smile right about now, and lets his eyes range over the clean living room. It's something he could get used to, even if he's not convinced he can actually keep it up.

"I'm glad you didn't," he says, his attention drawn down not to her middle but to her hands settled on either side of it, the agitation with which they've balled up. "I'd be sleeping on your couch if you'd stopped the rent."

The reason she'd made sure his bills stayed paid seems obvious to him: she came back, and she knew he would, too. And there was no one left to take care of his estate, such as it was, besides her. For the first time, he's grateful his mother's dead. His abduction, not to mention his return, probably would have killed her.