That's mine? Doubtful. [ He steps into the center of the room thinking he'll just be humoring her, eyes skimming past retro furnishings without any real expectation until he does recognize a particular shade of orange, the spine of a thin, small book resting atop the television. Stepping forward with a frown, he picks it up. The title is nondescript, little more than a factual boast of over one thousand brain teasers. He turns it toward her briefly before slapping it back into his palm. ]

This, but it's hardly an heirloom or anything. Maybe the rest of the house... [ He shrugs. His costume turning up would be inopportune but explainable, taking the edge off of that possibility. He nods toward the guitar, something not uniform with the rest of the room that's seemingly caught her attention.] Is that yours, then?