It's a good call. I'll admit to getting overzealous.

[He will... put the blowtorch and what's currently somewhat-melted aside for now. Reluctantly. Because apparently he really wanted to play with that blowtorch like a freak. The kind of freak who might have bombed a railroad bridge in the past—

Anyway.]

Do you know the relative hardness of your arm? [please don't ask a man this] Let me get the sclerometer.

[And he's getting up again... don't answer that question Vash we're about to figure out how hard your arm is. Or do. It'll be a minute until he comes back with it; there's a loud rummaging through another drawer and some sort of string of curses before he manages to find what he's looking for and sits back down.

I am not writing out a scratch test, I read the wikipedia article and didn't understand shit, let's just say it's all cashmoney—]