Kinich felt dumbfounded. A rare look on the pragmatic and stoic individual.

Here he was, holding the gift you previously handed over to him for his birthday. It's never been celebrated before.

Not with his runaway mother. Not with his dead father. Not with the friends he didn't have growing up.

"...am I expected to give you something in return?" Kinich finally spoke up. Yet he couldn't look you in the eye just yet.

Did everything not come with a price? Everything in this world is a transaction.