He stars working the thin one first, beaming. "Have you picked a birthday? Or, rather, do you remember yours?"

And then it's open, and he chuckles. "Dangling feathers are her favorite, and I"m glad to have something that will perhaps save my poor pauldrons. And this..." He turns the puzzle box over in his hands, feeling along the edges and figuring out what it is a few moments later. "Oh, it's splendid. Thank you." A puzzle box. He'll have to figure it out later, and that promises to be fun.