Gansey did not stray. He couldn't navigate the darkness like the Phantom could. At best, he'd end up battered and bruised. Light would always be Richard Campbell Gansey's safety. Golden, beloved, basking in sunlight and sunbathing on warm summer days.

When the Phantom returned with the water Gansey thanked him and picked up one with little effort, muscles flexing with his movements. He worked methodologically and smartly. Wetting the stone and creating a water trail, using the tools to pry up a corner of stone, building a harness to wrap around his torso so that he could use his core muscles to pull the stone rather than the strength of his arms. Even with all his care and cleverness it was still rough work—it did require strength, even under prime conditions.

It took time but he was largely successful. Clearing away stones as they were set, taking care not to unsettle any stones he didn't want to unsettle. Dust floated and beads sweat dripped down the contours of his body as he labored, once the way was clear he stood and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. Even if he'd been reluctant, pushing himself felt good. It was why he did things rather than allowing the servants do them for him.

"Think that's okay?" he asked, blinking away the dust from his eyes and resting his hands on his hips, chest rising and falling with some effort.