"And so you see, that's why I think it'd be a good idea to extend our arms out to hardier beneficiaries, sir."

With a loud thunk, Qwark propped his legs up on the glossy surface of his mahogany office desk. He'd had it lifted from one of his previous clients that hadn't needed it anymore. In fact, most of his office, which overlooked the busiest intersection in Metropolis, was filled with the items he treasured above all of his many possessions. He'd merely taken what'd belonged to him, after all. And Qwark always got what he wanted.

"NO! I'm not buyin'!"

Qwark's sensible shoes squeaked against the desk as he jolted, fumbling with the phone. He shoved it up to the side of his head. "I-I'm sorry, what was that?"

"You heard me, you good for nothing bum! I am not getting involved in another one of your stupid business schemes. Have you not seen what's become of MY surplus? It's gone to the gutter! It's gone! Flushed! I'm throwing money down the drain this moment 'cause of you! And now you want me to spread my resources even thinner, what are you, NUTS?!"

"Um…" Qwark twirled the phone cable around his finger. "Yes? To the spreading resources thin part..."

"Listen to me right now, Qwark," snarled his now not-business partner. "I ain't selling no more damn espresso machines, naught, zilch, NADA, under your supervision unless something changes. You were lucky I gave you a pass on that nonsense you got yourself into a year ago. While you was lying in a damn hospital bed, my stocks were going down, and my machines collecting dust. This is MY new offer to you! So clean out those ears, hard, so hard you poke that microscopic pea damned brain'a yours, and LISTEN."

At this moment the office door slammed open, and Ratchet marched in. Qwark had been quivering in his seat with the phone up to his ear and didn't notice his company at first, at least not until Ratchet forcibly slapped his legs off his polished desk.

"Oh, hey Ratchet, how's it going?" asked Qwark cheerfully. "Don't worry, you're not interrupting! I'm just about done with this business deal."

"Hey nimrod, are you listening to me? Huh?" the voice from the other side of the phone screamed. "That's it, I'm done! I've met monkeys with more sense than you! If I could, I'd sue your ass so hard you'd literally be compressed into the black chunk of useless carbon you are! Kiss my ass, and goodbye!"

There was a loud slam and the line went dead. Qwark scoffed, putting the phone down. "Yeah, but as you can see, some people are just hard to deal with reasonably at times. You would know those corrupt corporate folk."

Ratchet held up a poster. It had a crayon drawing of a yellow stick figure with large ears and pronounced teeth, and it looked like a four year old had drawn it. The lombax raised a brow. "Explain this, please."

Qwark gasped, pointing. "Oh yeah, I remember seeing a bunch of those posters around city hall!"

"They're actually all over Metropolis," Ratchet said sternly. "And I when I saw the dozens of them plastered over by our complex, I couldn't help but to wonder if you had something to do with it."

"What? Pshhh. What makes you think that?"

"Seriously?" Ratchet read the words under the drawing. "'Lonely man in search of hugs and love. Request for one lombax that is small enough to fit into a toy box, colored like mac and cheese, is easily irritated, and is in general denial of tender loving care. Report to this address if you have found such a creature somewhere in the known universe.'"

"…sooo?" asked Qwark, inspecting his nails.

"This is your address, Sherlock, or one of them at least," Ratchet said, slapping the paper onto the table. "What are you getting at with putting these things up, eh?"

"What's wrong with it? I thought it was cute," Qwark said, fumbling with his hands.

"I don't know. Kinda looks like you're searching for a lost pet."

Qwark suddenly noticed Ratchet was holding a chainsaw in his other hand. He decided to steer clear of that little tidbit for a moment, but decided to not agitate him further. He sighed, putting his arms behind his head. "Alright, you got me."

Ratchet's brows shot up and he held up a hand. "And the reason? I could hardly walk the streets 'cause people were hounding me. I had to fight my way over here."

"Is that why you have that chainsaw?" Qwark asked. Uh oh, steered too close too soon…

"No actually. It's for this."

Ratchet started the machine up, the blades whirring into motion and motor buzzing loudly. Qwark screamed in fear and took shelter behind his desk chair. In one swift motion Ratchet cut through the poster on the desk—then kept going, the metal teeth grinding into the wooden surface below. Qwark gasped when he saw his beautiful desk get cleanly sawed in half, both halves falling away from each other.

"There," said Ratchet, powering down the chainsaw. He sighed, almost lazily regarding the cowering man. "Qwark, why are you crying?"

"Y-You…my deessssk!" Qwark wailed. "Do you know how much trouble I had to go through to haggle it from a collection agency? They're defunct now because of fiscal corruption, but I carved my way through an army to get that baby here in my twelfth home!"

"Ugh, whatever. I did you a favor. First of all, that's what I'll do to you if you don't get those posters down. Secondly, you called me just last night to turn this thing into kindling because you ordered a new desk."

"Oh yeah, now I remember," said Qwark, his tears and sorrow magically vanishing. He scratched his chin, glancing at the halves of the poster on the floor. "Hmm, it's not gonna be so easy taking all those down."

"And why not?"

"Because…I didn't get what I wanted," said Qwark. He started vibrating profusely, breathing hard. "HnnnnrggghhhhHhhh I NEED you, Ratchet!"

The Lombax stared at him for a moment before started up the chainsaw again. He held it out, putting a barrier between them.

"...Okay. I'm gonna need you to…not ever say something like that again," Ratchet said. He figured he was in too deep, so decided to adopt a new attitude since he felt this would be yet another Qwark issue that wouldn't go away with just death threats. "Alright. Come on, stop shaking. Tell me what else you want. I'd love to hear this."

"Want to go a round?"

"No," Ratchet said automatically. "The heck does that even mean?"

"Get loose, and have some fun! One on one," Qwark hinted. "I'm not gonna drag you to a bar for something like this, it's too special."

"I'd rather get drunk with a hormonally agitated Tyhrranoid during rutting season. Find another partner."

"I just want someone to hold!" Qwark whined, falling forward at Ratchet's feet. "Plee-he-heasse! That's all I want!"

Ratchet groaned. "Come on Qwark, we just had a cuddle session last week." Qwark even had a whole library of books on cuddling. "What is it more you want from me?"

"I, well, it's just…" Qwark fumbled, more to himself. The longer he did, the closer Ratchet came to realizing it. The lombax pulled the corners of his mouth back.

"Qwark, is it what I think it is?"

"Maybe…"

"Would it involve, I don't know," Ratchet shifted the chainsaw over his shoulder, shrugging. "maybe a bed, with covers, and a whole eight hours of darkness?"

"You're the one who said it, not me..."

Ratchet smacked his face with a hand. "You want a sleepover," he deadpanned.

"Yes."

"Which involves us sleeping together."

"Uh huh."

"And this for a whole night."

"Yep!"

"…there's no use," Ratchet sighed, lowering his hand. "There's no use in convincing you otherwise. Though, I really can't understand your infatuation with wanting to get in bed with me."

"You let Clank and Talwyn sleep with you," Qwark pointed out. "I bet both of them at the same time, even."

"Uh, both of them only on several occasions," Ratchet said pointedly, raising a brow. "But, ya know, one of them's my little brother and the other is my fiancée."

"So what am I to you, just…just a Qwark?" Qwark cried. "Am I being rejected before my very eyes?"

"Why isn't Skrunch here?"

"He's off on a business trip. I'm getting too lonely here," Qwark pouted. "It's hitting me hard this time. If I don't get my hands on something small and fuzzy right now I'm going to…to...UuurgghhhhhAAAAUGGHH!"

He violently began shaking again. Ratchet held his hands up. "Okay okay okay! Just…chill. Okay?" He pinched the bridge of his nose, then continued. "Fine. We can have a sleepover."

Qwark gasped, rising on his elbows. "And…it can also be for several days, instead of one," Ratchet mumbled, looking off to the side. He knew he would regret this later on, but there was no greater fear than letting Qwark have a fit of…whatever it was. He held up a hand. "But, Qwark…just gonna warn you. Clank is a bit, well…"

"Well?" asked Qwark curiously.

"He's…not happy with me right now," Ratchet muttered. "He's making me sleep on the couch for the next two days. So…in order for this to work—"

"Wait, Clank can join in with us!" Qwark cut in. "This party of three can't work if we're all crammed on the sofa together! Especially if…it's a common sofa, you poor things," Qwark muttered under his breath. He shot up to his feet, glowing with an excitement that was inversely related to Ratchet's apathy. "Now, come on—the first thing we need to do is convince Clank the three of us need more bed action!"

"You mean beg, right?"

"You know it!"