"Well," Spin puffs a little unhappy sigh. "Welcome to the bottom rung, buddy. That's just how things are. Better than century old corpse fuel anyways."

Although corpse fuel had at least been tolerable with good company. Spinister's face twists into an unhappy expression, but he quickly buries his concentration back into tidying up the cables and putting the armor plates back on.

"Anything else I need to look at while we're here?" he asks, stopping briefly to bend Tarn's thumb plate back into shape.