"Huh. I suppose," Ratchet says, sounding unconvinced as he wipes away the last of the solvent and sands gently over the bare patch of plating before laying a base coat then the first block of white. His hands are steady and sure, moving with surgical precision, and he looks as focused as he would be doing a fuel-pump transplant as he fills in from the edges.

"You've got some good mechs over there, anyway. Sixshot's all right now that he seems less interested in chasing me down and killing me--that was awkward. And you could even give Spinister a bit more training. I offered to let him work here, but he said no--can't really blame him, I guess."