He tips his head in acknowledgment about killing folk. Not that he wants to; obviously it's been a large part of how he ended up being here, but also...people here seem to have extremely strong opinions and reactions about it. No one is worth that, especially if they're going to immediately become Not Dead again. What the actual fuck.

Sweeney nods more clearly about the check in. That's easy enough. He goes to work weekly after all; maybe he could do it the same day and two birds, one stone that shit. Leave plenty of time for being drunk and not responsible.

At the offer of getting him things, Sweeney eyes darken. It's not the man's fault that he can't get him what he truly desires.

He shakes his head slightly. "It's fine. Don't need much." Which is true. He's used to surviving on very little.

"An' weekly ain't a problem."