Bruce blinked, detaching his teeth’s hold from the metal with a good pull or two, leaving behind two serrated pearly whites too embedded into the metal to pull out. They’d be replaced with a new set of teeth by the next day. 

“Ye could come down whenever ye want-” the shark began only to stop prematurely. “D’ye need any help down?”

The Repairman looked at his saw. Unreliable as it was, it was his. He tried to pull it out again, to no avail.

“Nah,” he replied, adjusting his grip, “I’ll come down. Just need to…”

He tried again. And again. And again.

 "…get…this…out…first…“