"I'm a rube. Didn't have no gift cards or department stores where I'm from." Dan smiles, but there's something sad about it. It's the weight of the conversation they aren't having, the permeating sorrow they share.

"You're welcome. You got any preferences? Color, size, lining, anything like that?" Dan wonders if Miguel has anything so rustic in his room here at the Pole. Handmade pine boxes seem to clash with the technocratic aesthetic. "Working with my hands keeps me too busy to get down in the dumps over the holidays."

And drinking, which is evident when Dan pulls a bottle of Jack and a glass out of under the work station and pours some for himself.