Zevion gave a slight nod, his utility mechadendrite extending once more to assist and expedite in his removal of the left leg's metal casing.<i>"So no pain or troubles from the nerve unions? Any other problems besides possible dent induced delay and resistance to service?"</i>Once he was finished, he shifted into murmuring a slow, steady whisper under his breath, the sound little more then static over his respirator's vox. A binary worded communion prayer to the man's legs... He had on their first meeting like this listened to the spirits there in. A soldier's legs had belonged to other men of battle. Steadfast and proud troops in man's eternal war against the xeno and heretic alike...<br/><br/>He worked in otherwise comfortable silence, both legs now open, and much of their innards exposed. At any moment he could have tweaked a wire, or depressed a chip which would have inadvertantly caused Torin pain, but he didn't. On the contrary, the tech priest worked with the utmost care and diligence. They had an arrangement, in his mind; he maintained all the equipment, and Torin would protect their mutual Mistress... Not that the cogboy was beyond getting his hands, or tools bloody. But the guard just tended to be cleaner about it, and more efficient. Though... Something still bothered the adept of metal,<i>"Tell me,"</i>He inquired,<i>"What is the Captain's interest, in Abida, and teaching her my craft?"</i>Symthetic voice heavy, though his eyes did not wonder from his work, a Skull Servo plugging itself into a port along the side of his neck and offering it's optics to aid in his inspection of the other man's legs, work dedicated as ever.<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>