"You're the second fella I met that's had a friend who was a king type."

He picks up something in the rubble, then, someone's old painting. Half the painting is torn, frame broken.

When he straightens it out to look at it, his expression eases. It's... godawful. This person could not paint. But someone loved it enough that they put it in a real nice frame. He doesn't know how long it's been here, but it's water damaged enough that they'll probably not be coming back for it.

"Seems like them types are lucky to have folks like y'all."