[They don't look especially happy, but they are... slightly less miserable, maybe? Upon seeing the familiar face. They shuffle awkwardly on their feet, not really meeting his eyes. Their voice is quiet when they finally speak, a bit strained.]

... I don't have anywhere to stay. Feels like I'm asking to get killed sleeping outside now.

Can... can I stay here? Just for a little while. I can sleep on the floor, I'll try not to be a bother, I... have nightmares, sometimes, but I'll deal with it, just—

[They don't know where else to go, when anyone could be another copy. And it feels like they still barely know Stan, and he's grieving, and he probably doesn't want to deal with them on top of everything else, but... they don't know who else to trust, besides the one person who believed in them.]