They watch your hands as you try to unlock the box. The key is delicate, teeth threatening to bend. You lose focus for a moment, and it falls through your palm. Your knuckles briefly dip through the surface of the table as you snatch it back up. The coachman's eyes are steady, as if nothing's happened. His young assistant has turned to the window, intent as if that mudded landscape could still hold any interest for him after their trip up.