"I think I've got everything for Sprinkles, too," he says, lifting the bag. He notices the size of Jyn's bag, but he says nothing, because it's not all that out of the ordinary for him. All Lincoln's life, he'd had so little, and he had been perfectly comfortable with that. The only things that ever really mattered were his weapons and his sketchbook. If he needed to pack his apartment even now, leave within minutes, he would easily be able to do so.

Things don't matter to him. There are times when he almost wishes they did. It seems so much more normal to have more things than one knows what to do with, but that just isn't him and he knows it isn't Jyn either.

"It's just the couch," he tells her. "But you can take the bed and I'll sleep out in the living room."