The great white backed up with a sudden yelp as the chainsaw flew up the wall, the poor Repairman still grasping the tool’s handle helplessly. Bruce glanced about, disoriented by the sudden chaos and noise until their enclosure fell back to a numbing silence. The shark raised his head, catching sight of the Repairman further up the wall, uncooperative power tool still in hand, embedded into the wall. 

“Ye ‘lright up there?” Bruce called up, glancing back down at the saw’s handiwork; although chaotic, it had done its job. Bruce noticed a fragmented portion of light shining through the ripped metal plate. 

“Yeah,” the Repairman called back, “I’m fine.”

He adjusted his grip as he looked down at the tear he caused. He, too, could see light coming through.

“That give you enough room to work?” he asked Bruce, evenly. The inkblot was never too acrophobic; he has recovered from worse heights.

“If not,” he grunted, trying to pull the darned thing back out, “just give me a sec, and I’ll be right down!”