Following Mason’s lead, Gus reached for his wand to expel the wax from his ears, shaking his head as the noises came rushing back; he found he didn’t like the silence in any capacity, but then again being quiet in most situations wasn’t something he did well. (At least in tombs he had a partner or a small group of people who he could whisper to, as working alone was rare.)

He breathed out a laugh as his fingers fiddled with the edge of his scarf; if they were closer (even though Gus had dubbed Mason one his best friends and wasn’t going to let him weasel out of a friendship in any capacity), Gus probably would have hugged him. But that was weird to most people. He still managed to flick his gaze toward him and grin. “Mason, thank you.” Because he hadn’t said that enough. “Can I help?” He asked.

The idea of setting a trap came to mind but that might be too mean for kids - surely they’d come back around and do what? Take the mandrake back? Or see if he was dead on the floor? Well, if they were smart they wouldn’t actually come back to see their handiwork.

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