Ivar was slumped down pretty far against the headboard of his bed. Really, any further, and he'd just be plainly lying down. His whole mood seemed to be a bit defeatist, but really, who could blame him? Being in pain and full of sadness wasn't doing him any favors.

He did perk up a little when Rey mentioned presents. Ivar had a bit of a childish streak to him. He enjoyed things like getting gifts from people because it meant they were paying attention to him. From the time he was a child, one of Ivar's greatest frustrations was the fact people aside from his mother and Floki tended to ignore and forget about him. The poor, weak, little runt, the one that should never have survived, let's just pretend he doesn't exist. It was one of the reasons Ivar tended to annoy people as a teen. Even if they were annoyed, at least that meant they were paying attention.

A little bit of light came back into his all-too-expressive eyes. "Gifts? For me and Winter? Did you bring them with you?"