Silence stretched, and for a moment Eggsy wondered if he had stepped over some boundary he shouldn't have. Though, to be fair, he had thought Harry was dead, and Merlin had confirmed the man had no living relatives. Taking something from the estate was no issue, and would have made little difference in the selling. He had just wanted little notes of Harry to keep for himself, small things to put away and take out as reminders of the man he had aspired to make proud of him, that he had aspired to be, whose shoes he now had to try and fill as best he could.

His brows turned in a little at that last bit, mouth tugging down at the corners, not quite a pout, but a purse of confusion. "Why would you..." he began and then stopped himself. Don't question it Eggsy. Accept it. Accept the gesture, because it made him feel warm inside, made him feel like he hadn't done everything wrong, though he half wondered if it was just Harry trying to make up for the mistake of his father.

"It would have needed a paint job," he said instead, picking up his glass and swallowing. "And Mr. Pickles would definitely have to find a new place to sit. Not sure I could take a shit with him watching me. So really, it's fine."