[He shrugs uneasily, and silently promises to make it up anyway, because he can't not worry about a debt owed. He takes the package and turns to the unlit fire pit.]
Praying? I need a fire. I mean, I don't need a fire to pray, but if you offer something, it sometimes helps. It's a fifty-fifty chance he'll even care. I guess ... less than that, actually. I don't know if it will reach him at all from here. And even if it does, could he even respond, even if he wanted to? Which, he might not. He's kind of an ass. But I want to try anyway. [And he's rambling. He knows he is. He's tired and emotional. His brain screams at his mouth to shut up, and eventually it does.]