"So?"
"You may have to prove your prowess with a bit of fighting, Downing. Personal, I mean."
"Well—"
"And you may not. You've always accused me of being brash, bold, and impulsive. All three of 'em got me across to this gang. I've always accused you of being quiet, shy, and coldly-calculating. They'll like those features, too."
Three white-clad doctors surrounded Downing with their sprays.
"That stuff they have is better than the glook they sprayed me with," remarked Lane. "But it doesn't smell as good and it is inclined to sting a bit. They developed it after making me live in a glass-inclosed laboratory for about two weeks."
Downing submitted to the spray with scratching and shrugging. "Tell me," he clipped, "how're the women?"
"Cats," grinned Lane.
Downing grunted. "Sounds like 'sour grapes' to me."