[She could kiss this man, twenties or secret seventies -- though perhaps it's best she keeps that to herself, she muses after his apparent interest in romance novels is known. Still, Ryder sets her book aside so she can push herself up and find her backpack, unceremoniously dump out all the shit she's been accumulating, and offer it out. Not as fun as a pillowcase, maybe, but easier to carry around. Also -- she retrieves something from her pile of crap to offer out.]

I think -- the room was probably a teenager's. Maybe not even. Here. And there's another, in the car. I can look through the books here and put some in your room.

[Not the room he'd used, or was staying in, but his.]

...Oh. Can you carry your arrows and a backpack at the same time...?

[Because he'll need those if he has to deal with any zombies, obviously.]