Harold paused for a moment, leaning on the simple steel handrail to catch his breath and rest his aching knees. “Do you know, I could really come to hate stairs.” He looked down into the stairwell, where the bottom was already a faint patch of darker grey far below. They'd climbed six storeys and still had more to go.
“At least you've got legs that actually work.” Considering he'd eaten less than an hour ago, Dill looked the worse for wear already. Or was it Dill? The slight smirk to the mouth suggested otherwise.
“Will you be able to repair the lift and get us access to Jim Hunt's office?” Harold frowned. “Assuming he's still here after we've spent the whole night burning through his beloved complex destroying everything?”
“I think so.” Dill's hard Midlands accent shifted into Sam's southwestern burr. “Yes, of course he will. He's not going to run off, is he? You can expect a bit mnore resistance than a few poxy morning security guards, mind. This is Magelight. Did you know they make military grade weapons here? Needle guns for assassins, that kind of thing?”
“I knew there was something I forgot to bring.” Harold shook his head. “Actually, if we get the chance, I'd like to pick up some of those contact lenses that allow you to see the supernatural world through mortal eyes.”
“Why?” Jasfoup frowned. “You could enchant anyone you like to see the supernatural. Not that I'd advise it, mind.”
“Oh, just an experiment.” Harold took a deep breath. “Onward and upward, then.” He started walking again.
Jasfoup clapped him on the back. “Farther up and farther in.”