Everett & open
Everett wasn’t sure what was stupider: eating giant slugs, making clothes out or giant slugs, or trying to clean this shit hole of a building using the most useless team of cleaners he’d ever seen, and he very much included himself in that thank you very much. Of course, the other potential answer might also have been putting Blaise in charge of any cleaning effort. He was hardly a great organiser beyond parties and Everett doubted he exactly had enviable cleaning or fixing or whatever the bloody hell you called this skills.
He well knew his husband - if he was still alive by this point which was entirely debatable given everything was trying to eat them - wouldn’t be impressed with his general attitude, but there was little to be happy about with any of this. Currently he was doing as much as possible without touching anything physically.
Surprisingly he did know some cleaning charms anyway, mainly though his own knock weHe was for careful cleaning of sensitive fabrics - hardly something he was going to need until they managed to get out of whatever the bloody hell this was. And honestly, that couldn’t come soon enough.
“Do you need help with that?” He asked, deciding that much as he’d love to, slinking off and doing nothing decidedly wasn’t going to help, and the person he was looking at looked like they had their hands full.