Kieren steps forward to look at the pieces, crouching over to piece through them. He finds one that looks a little like an obelisk, about the size of his palm, and curls it in under his fingers, feeling the coolness of the grave at his hand. "Thank you," he says quietly, because it might be morbid, but it's still his.

He glances up at him, his smile much happier. "I'm starved," he says, as if he isn't always starved nowadays. "Tea?"