S.T. rolled his eyes. The jump had been his second time in the water, and it wasn't his fault Harvey hadn't heard of Ziploc baggies. Lake Wannabe-Lethe had managed to eat his flashlight, but the rest of his stuff had survived.

Meanwhile, Harvey had headed down the hall. He couldn't yell, but he could figure out how to make noise if something reached up from the floor and went for a flash-fried lawyer kebab. So S.T. did the mature thing and ignored him.

"It's heavy." Not the most rigorous of scientific examinations. "Pick a heavy metal. Lead's like, the least toxic option." Except for iron, but Landel tended towards vicious over ironic. "Here, catch," he said, tossing it to Scott. His hands felt lighter as soon as it left his fingers.