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She stared at what he held in his hands. "Is that it?"

"Yep."

"Do they come . . . bigger?"

He flushed. "No, this is as big as they come."

"Well, okay. They're all pretty much the same, anyway."

He lifted his eyebrows."

"In my experience, anyway."

A few minutes later, he was staring down, deep in thought. Finally he thrust in as hard as he could. A few seconds later, he was pumping up and down, with Eames watching from her peculiar vantage point.

After a few failed attempts, she said, "Is that as far as it goes?"

"Eames, I can't get it in any further without breaking something."

"Okay, okay . . . maybe you should try—"

"Eames," he grunted, still pumping in and out, "I've done this a few times in my life, I think I know what I'm doing."

"Ew, it's getting everywhere!"

"That's okay, we have towels. And it's on tile, anyway."

Finally, with a faint pop!, he pulled out. Studying it for a while, he nodded and pushed the handle. It flushed to his satisfaction.

"And that," he said with a grin, "is how you unclog a toilet."

She heaved a sigh of relief. "Oh, thank you, Bobby."

"Don't mention it." He offered her his plunger. "You want to hang on to this?"

"Um . . .you keep it."