The basket came down again, this time heavy—a repaired pair of pliers, several pieces of cut Sheet Metal, and half a can of lamp oil. The note had just one line: [I've got things stable on my end. If you run into trouble later, just call out.] The window frame on the second floor across from you had been re-nailed, with every gap sealed tight.

The broken scissors I stuffed into the basket a few days ago came back today. The blade has been sharpened, and the handle is wrapped with anti-slip tape—it works even better than before. He seems to know how to fix everything.