Sync's attention shifts from the stranger to Gale, cheering her up with the scritches and making sure she wasn't too upset with him. The Doctor's words pull a wry smile out of him.

"It's what I was made to be. A weapon, and a tool. Most people can't defeat me in a fight, one on one." A group, that supported each other...that he had more trouble with, and had lost to time and time again. But it didn't matter.