His hand closes around — something. And he frowns.

"There's something in here."

Leaning forward, he makes as if to pull at whatever it is, taking a couple of tries before he starts pulling directly up, getting some traction. What starts to emerge is long and dark, sharpened along its squared edges beneath the hilt. There's enough of it that the length starts to get awkward from his crouched position, and he's clearly going to need help to keep pulling. No other end is, yet, visible.