His one flesh eye glared at Torin, as he did not dignify the joke with a reply, instead peeling the cloth off of another estranged machine. This one looking like a much larger varient of his own manipulator mechadendrite.<i>"If you need oil, it's on the back bench." </i>He stated,<i>"Next to the lubricant, should you need that as well."</i>Of course, all the uses for that were vary few when not dealing with machines... His shoulders rolling, the pistons within lurching as his own manipulator came out, ended in a vice grip two prong clamp. It was no small measure of effort to lift the severed metal arm, picking it up and turning it around, slowly, reverently...<i> "I trust, you can show yourself out?"</i><div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>