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Margot snorted. “Amateur hour.” She unspooled her gear across his laminate floor. Within minutes, the snake camera was writhing down his pipes. Ethan watched the monitor, expecting a clump of hair or a fossilised piece of pasta.
Out stepped Margot. She was seventy if she was a day, wore steel-toe boots with purple laces, and carried a snake camera like a seasoned warrior hoists a sword. drain clearance near me
Margot packed her gear. “That’ll be eighty quid. Plus the Victorian surcharge—haunting removal adds fifteen.” Margot snorted