Wrench doesn't mind abandoning words for action. This is how he's learned most things in his life. At times, perhaps, with a bit more observation, but that hasn't always been the case. Even if he'd like to watch Sandor strike a few blows himself so he can see the man's technique, Wrench doesn't know of anyone around who might willingly stand themselves in front of the tall and brutal man for target practice. He might as well learn from the feel of it. Pain might not be a deterrent, but it's a great motivator to ensure he doesn't make the same mistake twice.

Besides, it's kind of nice learning when there's nothing on the line. Sandor isn't threatening to kill him if he doesn't comply. Yet, at least. Wrench treats himself to a little smirk as he imagines how he'll get through the man and manage what he's been encouraged to do. He doesn't want to put too much force into it all at once. He's damn sure Sandor is going to block whatever he throws at him, and if Wrench has put his whole weight behind the first hit he's going to be too off balance to defend himself back when the time comes.

He makes an arcing swipe towards the man's left side, around hip level. Might as well get the feel for what it's like when metal reverberates against cold metal.