Arthur stepped out from behind the reference desk. "I call that one 'The Guardian.'"
"Basement?" Buster grunted. He didn't wait for an answer. He walked past Arthur, steel-toed boots splashing in the water, carrying a heavy toolbox that looked like a black lunch pail in his massive hands.
"Standard coupling," Buster shrugged. "Corroded. Probably been leaking slow for years before it blew."
"Remarkable," Arthur whispered. He wasn't looking at the pipe. He was looking at Buster.