John hands the coin back readily enough, lifts a shoulder in a half-shrug at a bit heavy. It all sounds bleak on paper, maybe, but it hadn't quite occurred to him to be creeped out. It doesn't feel spooky. The hum of death-energy feels vast and steady as the desert around them, and has the same sort of majesty: beautiful, ancient, uncaring.

"I'm alright with being the bone guy. Happy to help with some death-themed archaeology— though maybe that's all archaeology, when you think about it." He snaps his fingers in sudden, pleased revelation: "You and me, we'll be Indiana Bones."