Casey digging gives him an excuse to just sit, and an excuse to let his tears keep falling: Casey wouldn't look at him. Casey was good at distance, and Kira didn't have to worry about making sure it stayed in place. Didn't have to force Casey back, because he kept himself there. He was safe in a way most people weren't, and Kira doesn't feel so awful to have cried in front of him, or look this tired, or not really be joking as they spoke.

It lets him feel level enough to crumble the bread in his hands, lifting small pieces to his mouth between sniffles and coughs, between short silences and words. He accepts the help enough that he even strips the gloves from his hands, needing to air the sallow new skin of his left regardless.

He tosses them at Casey's knees, giving the task over to him for now. "What's the first rule then?"