On arrival, Jayce catches a look, too, flicked over a bony shoulder, triggered automatically by the shape of him in Viktor's peripheral vision. It lingers just long enough to dim, breaks off decisively: there's work to be done.

As Strange lifts the crate's lid away, he slopes up alongside it, leans in to see.

"Likely not... but let's not rule anything out." Zen means nothing to him, but surely decorative gardens, and the eclectic appetites of many who keep them, are universal. Presently, being himself unsuited to heaving around slabs of wood, he pushes back the lid of the next crate to take a look inside. "These appear to be fragments."

He could ask if they're safe to touch, but why would he do that when he can just reach in and grab this thing—