Lifting his head from idle inspection of the box--it looked more like the quarter bin at a swapmeet than anything Kira would call a gift--he raised a hand automatically for the offered dice. To each their own, if the place was rooting around in Casey's head for an idea of his wants and needs. They might have been lucky it wasn't a box stuffed with ash.

"I haven't gotten one of these," he said of the box, rolling the dice together in his hand. The sound and feel was satisfying, smooth wood clicking edge to edge, points rolling against his palm. When he squeezed, they bit in, but not very hard. "The boxes that aren't from anyone. I don't really know the point if it isn't returning things lost."

How much Casey's discussed the constraints of the canyon, he couldn't be sure--wasn't sure he wanted to ask. There was such a relief to being here for him, it felt wrong to push him toward distrust. He was already distrustful. "I just wonder what happens to everyone we lose on the way in. My cards, your casings."