"Yeah. I think so, anyway," Ford answered. He could see something, sort of, but in just the moonlight it was barely more than a glint at the part of the dresser that dipped too low for him to really see. This was probably intentional on their part, the poor lighting — most Muggle seances and hauntings and things had that element in common, because it was easier to get away with things when people had to squint to see them happen. Ford scooted back out from under the dresser and reached his arm in, swiping at the space he'd seen the little glint until his fingers brushed the wire.

"Ah! Here," he said, tugging it out until it would be visible to Lestrange. "They've got it run through the floorboards. Probably rigged through some pulleys to the outside — or maybe a shed or something," he speculated. They had quite the set up, here, with a lot of different elements that would need to be facilitated — the weather tonight wasn't too bad, but if he was planning this out he would have wanted a roof over the control area in case of inclement weather. If it had been sleeting or even just raining tonight, he imagined whoever had to stay up and tug levers and play phonographs would have been rather miserable.

"This is pretty elaborate, this place," he pointed out. "You picked a good one to start with. I'm a little worried you'll be disappointed next time, though, if they don't have wires running through the floors and phonographs in the walls."

They had not really discussed there being a next time, but this was fun. Ford thought Lestrange was having fun, too, weirdness from earlier aside — so they were friends now, weren't they, and they might do things like this all the time, whenever they liked. (Probably not on work nights, in the future, though; he was going to regret this sudden burst of energy when work started at eight tomorrow morning).