Nelson's offer of his hand was the kind of social cue that Kristoff tended to not pick up on. He moved on without taking note of it, but he listened politely enough, eyes still taking the place in. He let out a short, humorless laugh at the suggestion that he could move his stuff in. He'd just lost his stuff, everything, over the past couple of days. He'd been left with the clothes he was wearing, and... Geez. He'd even given away his hat, for crying out loud.

"I don't really have anything. Just this." He shoved his mittens into his sash, gesturing lamely to himself and his well-worn ensemble. Those words weren't entirely true, though, and he held up the folder of paper and the little mirror-machine they'd given him. Apparently, these things were worth something, even if it didn't seem particularly useful or important. "And this."

The cynicism dropped a little from his expression, though, as he mulled over Nelson's words. First, he could come into the house, then he might get food? Just like that? JR wasn't kidding. Of course, once the subject was brought up, Kristoff realized that, yeah, he might've been a little hungry. The chaos was dwindling away, somehow, and it began to dawn on him how sore and beaten up he felt, physically and otherwise. He wouldn't mind trying to fill a couple of sudden voids with something to eat.

"Well, I mean... Yeah. If you're offering, I'm not going to turn down a meal."