There's a moment of silence, as Rico just stands there. It might even seem like Kubo's words have finally gotten through to him, the polite hope that he would become a better person in time, and have somebody of his own to care for.

"Sorry?" Rico repeats, flatly. He stares at Kubo behind his visor, like he can't even believe what he's just heard. "Sorry?"

His grip tightens on the scrapbook, the binding creaking under his gloves. And just when it looks like it'll be crushed in his grip, he suddenly relaxes, leaning back and snatching the book with him.

"You're better off keeping it for yourself. A half-blind, scrawny orphan who kills everyone he cares about feels sorry. For me."

Rico starts laughing. Not a wild laugh, but a small chuckle that speaks of real amusement. In fact, it seems like he can't stop laughing. "You can keep your whatever with people you love if that's what you get from it." He grins as he starts flipping through the book haphazardly, keeping it just out of reach of Kubo's hands, turning it this way and that. "A bunch of empty pictures and nothing."