Keene closes the door, locks it up securely, then turns to watch the box fly across the room. He works a cigarette out of his breast pocket, puts it between his lips, and lights it with his Masonic Zippo as the carnage invariably begins. "See, that's the thing," he says. "I deal with enough *human* stupidity that protecting Familiars from the fallout of their actions just doesn't fit the bill. Excuse me."