"How'm I doin'?" asked the Tanker grudgingly.
"Well at least you're still in there."
"By God, Charlie! Fighting Machines ain't supposed to be too emotional, but if anybody gets me sorer than you do so help me, I'll murder him!"
Charlie Jingle worked the body fast, checked the heated joints for too much strain.
"Favor the right. The elbow's gettin' creaky. And save the fight for the Champ. You'll need it."
The buzzer sounded, Charlie shoved his tools through the ropes onto the edge of the deck, climbed out, and holding onto the edge of the stool, he said, "Watch his Three-Six combo. He's gonna angle for your jaw pretty soon."
Tanker turned, looking down at him.
"You don't trust me at all, do you?"
The bell banged and quickly Tanker was on his feet, moving in his curious, side-long motion.