"I'm sure it will," Skellig says - he will withhold his comments about the level of 'fancy' that he knows he will be wearing for their celebration, having resigned himself to the fact that he will be dressing in much greater finery than what he wore when they went into the city; when even THEN, he thought THAT was a great deal of jewels. He bags the stones up again and slips them into the bag that he's started for 'their' treasures to return home with, along with the dagger (thankfully it has an equally fine sheath to go with it) and a few pieces of the silk.

He tips his head to nuzzle her torso lightly as she rubs on him, as he rifles through the rest of the chest. "Anything else that strikes your fancy?"