Kira's bracelet weaving comes from a different set of skills, unfairly barred as he'd been from chunky bracelet sleepovers in his youth. Maybe the hobby would have superseded the abuse of snap bracelets for all of his early middle school years, but he doubts it. What greater joy is there at eleven than slapping a flimsy piece of metal onto your peers like you're breaking a cement block with your hand?

Definitely not camping, which is only tolerable in their large group and with the ability to pre-game.

Careful not to jostle her, it takes a better part of the hour for him to finish the lettering on a neat little bracelet, woven tight and sleek like a lanyard. Maybe it should have been a lanyard, for all that the science types don't have key cards and name tags at the clinic. "See, you've got the right idea," he comments, admiring her handiwork as he passes over a length of neon blue and bright red proclaiming R U NASTY.

What do you get the girl who has everything, when you maybe almost got her dick donor killed by snakes? Nothing but the best.