Andras's first instinct was to run -- a body that was years and years old sounded so totally Not Good.
And then, his photographer's instincts took over as well. There was something worth taking pictures of in that basement!
"Fuck, yes," Andras said, getting out his small Canon that he always carried for just that sort of emergency. "That's one of Cindy P.'s building sites -- you know, Axminster's missus? She's not going to kick us out."
He pulled the temporary door open again. Cindy's wheelchair was sitting in a corner beside a running laptop, empty. Some small, rough bloke in the next corner was praying to some holy image he was clutching in his large, rough hand.