If it had only been the bed that had undergone an upgrade, he would have been content to pretend that it had always been there, rather than question its sudden existence. The other things are harder to ignore. Cookbooks were useful, but that didn't mean he needed so many, even if he would enjoy reading them. Nothing he needed shelves for. He didn't need a TV when there was one downstairs he could... sometimes clandestinely watch. It's money that she could probably put towards worthier causes.

His eyes are, however, quick to notice his old magazines and where they're placed, and there's a brief flicker of uncertainty that flashes across his face. She hadn't just redecorated his room, but had gone through his room, and though he had precious little to hide, there still was something that deserved to stay hidden. Things didn't need to be found. He's not sure how to interpret that and what to expect, but if she doesn't bring anything up, he's certainly not going to. He doesn't want to. For all he knows, maybe she found nothing, or by some miracle wasn't going to question what he needed pills for.

"You could've used the money for your room."