Is this his bed? Kaito wonders with some surprise. He hadn't paid it much mind during his convalescence but now his eyes flick over the room with renewed interest. He'd love to poke around a bit (not steal; he'd never take advantage of Greed's kindness like that) but the man is right: he can't stay here forever. The cigarette smoke travels mostly outward but its acrid smell still hangs in the room. Nicotine sticks to the walls over the years no matter how hard one tries to scrub it clean. Kaito doesn't complain; he's used to it.

He carefully manoeuvres to the edge of the bed, swinging his legs over the edge. "Being a 'pissant' runs in the family I'm told," he quips back. "Ready to go whenever you are."