Pardon me, for I am a review whore. Your reviews make me feel like I must continue this ridiculous farce. Also, I really want to hug a lombax, So fluff. Very cuddles. Wow.
Clank sat in the stiff plush chair, mindful to raise his tail as he did so this time. The waiter brought out a booster seat for Ratchet, accepted without fuss. The space was small, and, once water and menus were handed out, the Terachnoid waiter bowed slightly, exited the room, and closed the door behind him.
"When you know what you want, we press the button and the waitstaff will come."
"Seems a bit…" Clank said trailing off. "Oh, Clank, you're equipped with that wiretapper detector Al added, right? Mind checking?" he asked, nudging Ratchet.
Ratchet leafed through his process logs, and ran the program, looked left and right between Clank and Talwyn, and grinned with his eyes. "Totally clear, guys. Finally, I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep that up without messing up."
"Apologies for the ruse, Miss Apogee," Clank added. For some reason, when he said it, he felt flush around his face and neck.
"Yeah, well, the codes tipped me off. And trust me on this one; these guys would be out of business fast if there were wiretaps here. This room's usually used for politics or business. They sweep it pretty regularly."
"Geez, Tal, what kind of friends did your dad have?" Ratchet asked, arms crossed.
The same kind of friends that could smuggle himself and a Lombax through to Kerchu City to use the Dimensionator, for one," she sighed. "I finally find some leads on him, and he's gone."
"A lombax?"
"A woman apparently."
"You must be referring to Angela Cross," Clank interrupted. "It is good to know she is well. And you family as well, as it would seem."
Talwyn frowned, and Clank distinctly heard her mumble "Cronk and Zephyr" under her breath. She looked up, noticing Clank's (Ratchet's? Clank borrowing Ratchet's?) ear perked high and snorted a little. Ratchet's head was turned away from the table, attempting to whistle innocently before letting out a foghorn.
"You idiots," she grumbled.
"Well, considering my parents are dead, Clank's dad got shot off to an alternative dimension at best and his mom's a bit on the immobile side… family's gotta stick together, right?"
"Right," Talwyn said with a light smile, flicking Ratchet's antenna. He blinked for a moment, before swatting away her hand.
"Tal, don't do that, please; you just loosened a connector pin and disabled my primary auditory circuit func… holy crap, I'm actually talking like you, pal," Ratchet said as he looked up at Clank, "and I understand it! I mean, I knew how to fix you before, you're a pretty standard Blargian microbot controller, er, well, the robot body you inhabit is, at least, but it's not like I knew what half the parts' names were."
Talwyn shook her head. "Please don't tell me you're becoming more like Ratchet, too."
"Other than having a constant desire to eat something, likely due to Ratchet's exceedingly high level of metabolic processes from extreme cardiovascular activities, I do not think so."
Ratchet blinked in surprise. "I understood that too. You're basically saying you're hungry because I run around all the time so my body's used to burning it off."
"Ratchet, you have access to my database and processors, now, so this does not come as much of a surprise. If you asked me information on something I had not already known, I would probably be at a loss, myself, without them."
Talwyn slumped an elbow on the table, fanning her free hand between the two. "Mind telling me exactly how this happened in the first place?"
"Nefarious," Ratchet and Clank replied in frightening unison. "Or were you looking for further specification?" added in Clank after a moment's freeze.
"One of his weird not-death rays, I'm guessing?" Talwyn asked with a flick of her hand.
"Yeah," Ratchet replied, shifting in his booster seat.
"Why don't we order, and you two idiots can tell me what you plan on doing so I can actually tag along this time?"
"Clank, pass me the menu. I'll find you something that hopefully won't disagree with you," Ratchet asked, outstretching an arm and taking the leather- backed board from Clank. He scanned through it (in an oddly literal turn-of-phrase), and pointed out three different items. "Probably your best bet. Any of these should be fine."
"You never made comments before about food you couldn't eat," Talwyn remarked, frowning. "You've nixed almost the whole menu."
"Clank's had an upset stomach ever since he took over, and Aphelion called in a doc."
"Clank, I'm so sorry I didn't…" Talwyn started, but Clank held up a fuzz- covered paw, blinking a few times when he saw the end of each fingertip capped with a sharp, white claw.
Ratchet shook his head, reached over, and massaged his nearest hand until fur-covered folds of skin re-rolled around the claws, until Clank never knew they had been there in the first place.
"Try sheathing the other ones yourself," Ratchet said, before adding in a tone just above a mutter, "Man, those really need to be clipped."
Clank stared at his right hand and tried to cover up Ratchet's claws, before sighing, and holding his palm out to Ratchet to fix. He was getting hungrier than Qwark after doing any level of strenuous activity, such as basic addition, or breathing.
"And, are you doing okay, Ratchet?" Talwyn asked, trying desperately to change the subject as she hit the call button.
"I've had experience being a robot…" he replied shrugging, as he slowly worked the muscles in Clank's fingertips until they relaxed, releasing the rolled-back skin, ignoring the gentle purr, and Tal's light chuckle at hearing it. "Though I did mess up his heli-pack this morning and got a propeller shoved into the arm sheath. Could have been worse."
The waiter knocked, was allowed in, scuttling to the lonesome table with a water pitcher and notepad, took orders, and left as quickly as he'd entered.
"You won't need the next two pills, bud," Ratchet said, as soon as the door was shut. "How long are they good for, anyway?" he asked Talwyn, as he pulled out the bottle, handing it to her to read. Clank held up a hand again, happy that his claws were nowhere to be seen.
"Try accessing the internet," he said.
"While a good idea, signal's blocked in here except emergency frequencies," Tal replied, pointing to a sign next to the table, and prying the bottle from Ratchet's hand. "Helps mitigate spying or recording."
"Hmmm," Clank considered, as he watched Talwyn handle the bottle with interest. "I wonder, as it would be easier for you to learn lombax through my processors, if you tried, would you still remember when you returned? Would the memory be attached to your mind or my sisterboard?"
"That runs into existential questions I really don't want to think about, pal," Ratchet replied, poking Clank (himself?) in the arm.
"Fair point," Clank replied, as Talwyn looked up from her reading.
"Five years expiration," she said, passing it back. "You probably should keep these for emergencies. Dad told me about treating lombaxes that didn't get enough taurine in their diets. Also, that's the first time I've ever heard you purr. You should, I dunno, meditate, get massages, or something if you can't do it on your own. Especially with how often the two of you get dragged into trouble."
"I'm supposed to…?" Ratchet asked. Clank poked him in the audio receptor for good measure.
"I did say I would ask medical information on your behalf." Ratchet lowered his head into the center of his chassis, retracting his neck almost completely.
"Purring, in those who can, helps with bone and muscle repair. The ancient ancestor to lombaxes slept around eighteen hours a day and needed a natural way to heal. They even discovered that lombax purrs work on some other species, too. You can still ask for a holodisc of purring if you're stuck in the hospital," Talwyn said matter-of-factly before sipping from her water goblet.
Ratchet suddenly found the floor incredibly fascinating, and took a moment to consider volunteer work in a children's hospital.
"So. What do you plan on doing from here?" Tal asked, Ratchet shooting his head and neck back to full extension.
Ratchet and Clank looked at each other before launching headfirst into explanations, words over words until Talwyn could barely make out who was saying what.
"Dunno. We have a week before we go back. Clank needs to learn how to handle weapon kickback while in my body, and probably some dodging maneuvers."
"Ratchet should be learning how to catch me in a fall and act as a microbot controller. Nefarious has small swarms of them in his new base and my software is compatible with them to override their programming," Clank added helpfully.
"Those nails need a trim."
"I can hear my left shoulder joint squeaking, so that needs a tune up."
"He needs to try pie."
"He should really be learning some lombax."
Tal slapped her hand over her face. "Okay, I get it. But how do you actually plan on stopping Nefarious?"
The silence that followed, Clank realized, was even more uncomfortable than the noise. He could hear Talwyn's heart beat. Shaking out his head, he breathed out and slowed down.
"When we were confined to the DreadZone, Ratchet had a weapon modification that temporarily controlled the minds of lesser life-forms. Unfortunately, all of the weaponry used custom ammunition, locks, and safeties. But we only need the propellant modification."
"That might not work on Lawrence of Nefarious-" Talwyn started.
"No, but I see where you're going with this," Ratchet cut in. "Uh, sorry, Tal, for cutting you off. Make whatever they stick in the chamber with us hypnotized… but we'd still need someone to induce it."
Clank gestured to Talwyn, who nodded in agreement.
"And we still need that mod. I mean, I have it lying around somewhere in our workshop on Fastoon, but… it needs a power cell they don't make anymore and compatibility issues…"
"Between the two of us, I think we can manage."
"Oh, that's funny."
"Why is that humorous?"
"How much fine-motor-skill have you used in the past… let's see… sixteen hours?"
Clank blinked. "Oh," he muttered, realizing the concern.
"You tuned on and off some bathroom taps, clumsily. You put on some work pants, which have an elastic waist. And you ate bread. With your hands, no utensils. I helped you in that," Ratchet commented, pointing to the suit, "opened the pill bottles, and took off all your armor."
Clank looked down, ears drooping. "Lunch is about to become fairly awkward, yes?"
Talwyn laughed. "Oh, I wish I had a camera."
"Just try not to get sauce all over my best formal shirt, pal?"
"This is your only formal attire."
"Exactly."
For those of you that want to see a life-size lombax and Blargian robot, hop over to Archive of Our Own and hunt down this story in the Ratchet and Clank archives, same title. I posted my finished work for my cosplay! ITS SO FUZZY.