"Ratchet? Are you all right?" Sonata blinked, standing outside the door to the showers.

After a few moments, Ratchet came out, followed by Clank, and wearing a slightly ratty, overly large shirt with a wavy sun image and the words "Black Hole Sun — This is Where it Ends", before glaring at Sonata, mouth pursed shut.

Sonata blinked. "I'm going to take that as a no."

"I'm not hitting a pregnant woman, dammit." Ratchet hissed, still glaring at her. "I came here to have a party, not to get myself stripped down and humiliated."

"Ratchet, we needed to remove your armor for your own safety." She sighed, a hand on her hip. "Now, if it's that important to you, we'll make it up to you later."

He scowled, still upset. ". . . why did you tell me I had that mark on my back?"

Sonata frowned, placing a hand on Ratchet's shoulder. "You had a right to know. You would've found it eventually."

"Feels like I've slipped back in time, I swear . . . I basically was, right? All that was missing were the slave-driving whips and public pursings."

"It's a harsh statement, but Ratchet, Vox knew what he was doing was illegal. It was only a matter of time before-!"

"Before fucking what?" Ratchet glared at her. "Don't try to talk me down from this, it's in your blood as well as it is mine. I mean, hell, that's what's with your name, right? 'Masters'. While the rest of our species was getting covered in grease and diving into live engines to keep the pistons running, your ancestors were playing as the dolls in some spoiled brat's playroom by day and getting muffed by night!"

"Get your mind out of the gutter." Sonata glared back. "For one, 'Masters' is my married name; now I'm not going to deny that I'm from more educated stock than whatever YOUR family came out of, but you talk to any Canon, Treble, or Forte, and they'll gladly inform you that life wasn't any more of a picnic for them either!"

"Ratchet . . ." Clank spoke up, whining just enough to stop the budding argument. "What are you two talking about? The last time I checked, weren't the events in question over 500 years ago?"

Ratchet rolled his eyes. "The Galaxy has a long memory."

"Unlike certain Lombaxes who should be more grateful we took his armor off skillfully enough we can re-assemble it into a more tolerable format so you're not stuck it for another year . . ." Sonata glared. "Now . . . if you're through insulting the past, may I lead you back to your seat?"

Ratchet sighed. "May as well." He glanced around the room, noting that it had thinned out. "Is the party over?"

"It's calmed down for tonight. Don't worry, there'll be more tomorrow." Sonata smiled, thumping the beanbag that Ratchet sat upon before, leaning up against it herself. "We're not in any hurry."

"Strange . . ." Ratchet mumbled to himself, lying down on the large pillow. "I'd figured you people would be busy."

"We are, but we aren't. Most of our work is done on Veldin for obvious reasons; coming out to someplace exotic like this typically means my husband and I are out doing 'performance art' instead."

"And 'Performance art' is a euphemism for sex, I'm guessing." Ratchet remarked, before blinking at the realization that Sonata had lain down as well, and her head was right in Ratchet's lap.

Sonata chuckled, the vibrations of her jaw passing onto him plain as day. "Well, there are orgasms involved, I'll assure you of that much. My husband and I are of the dignified side of the sex industry, after all . . ."

Ratchet smirked. "You don't look too dignified right now."

"It's all about the company you keep." Sonata smiled, then glanced down to see Clank standing near the pillow, watching them, before she turned her head to Ratchet. "Is he allowed to watch?"

The hero's eyebrows jumped up in shock. "To watch what?"

"Just curious . . ." Sonata smirked, pulling up the hem of Ratchet's oversized shirt just enough to him to catch on.

He gulped. "Wait a minute, your husband-!"

"Calm down . . . I'm not planning to take this far enough to bother him." Sonata purred, one hand slipping underneath the shirt to take hold of him. "After all, he's seen me with customers before . . . the only thing he'll be upset about is not filming it."

Ratchet started to look a lot more nervous now, glancing out to try and find Staccato or his lens out somewhere in that crowd. "I don't think I . . . ah . . ."

"Shh . . ." Sonata smiled. "Unless you really want to attract a crowd, I think we should just keep it to you, me, and the robot here. After all, from what I heard from the crowd earlier, it's about time he saw this."

"Please . . ." Ratchet managed out before he mewled, unable to control himself. Damned if he'd counted on this happening . . .Even if it did feel damn good . . .

Sonata's head had slipped just beneath the hem now, causing Ratchet's eyes to roll back. Clank blinked, along with a few bystanders, just watching on either in awe or a drunken buzz at what they were seeing; although most of it was hidden by sheer body placement and the oversized shirt, every now and then Clank managed to catch a flash of muzzle and flesh pressed tightly against each other. Most of what he saw was in Ratchet's face and Sonata's bobbling determination, keeping her eyes on Ratchet's expressions of enjoyment as her hair fell to the side, her hands on his thighs, keeping her focus on him.

After a few moments, Ratchet was panting, trying to sit up, his eyes focused on her, even though he was breathing hard now, almost impressed. Sonata wasn't saying anything, but her eyes were saying everything, looking up at him with a glint of mischeviousness in her eyes, pulling his shirt up just a little higher to let him see what she was doing to him, her eyes locked with his as she kept up her motions, her jaw in perfect fluid motion as she went, her tongue and her teeth adding just enough variety to keep him interested, as if he didn't have enough incentive already.

"Hang on . . ." Ratchet put out a hand, pushing into her hair just enough for her to understand. "Can't just . . ."

The look in Sonata's eyes was a clear 'you can', and in emphasis she dove her head down, engulfing him as best she could. Ratchet's eyes went wide as he fell back, eking out all sorts of sounds, until suddenly . . . he chirped.

Ratchet blinked, stunned at himself, before he chirped, then chirped again, the half squeak-mewls of joy escaping his throat as he just closed his eyes, trying to get out of this what he could . . . he'd gone too long without this, entirely too long . . .

The waves of ecstasy soon subsided, leaving a worn Ratchet sprawled out on the pillow, a smirking Sonata looking down on him, and Clank standing there in shock.

The pause kept going for a few moments, before Ratchet looked up at her with a crazy smirk on his face. "Marry me."

"I already beat you to her." Staccato remarked, causing Ratchet to jerk up in shock, covering herself. Staccato had a camera in hand, and looked like he was just wrapping up some footage as he walked over to Sonata, stroking one of her ears. "Just face it, Tiger — I've hit the jackpot."

"You certainly have." Clank remarked, earning a hard glare from Ratchet. "She seems quite skilled."

This earned a chuckle from the frosty Lombax. "Ten years in the business has to make you good at something . . ." He smirked at Ratchet, holding up his camcorder. "I caught plenty of it on film, if you're wondering. It's not often my wife gets to show off that talent to someone besides me, after all."

Ratchet blinked, suddenly becoming quite defensive. "Look, she-!"

"There's no need for apologies." Staccato cut him off, before slipping his freehand over to Sonata, dipping just below the hem of her pants and apparently getting enough of a reaction to make Sonata cough, and then blush. "I don't mind sharing certain parts of my wife . . . as long as you keep out of what's meant to be kept between us."

Sonata blushed, scratching her neck as she managed to squeak out to Ratchet, "Consider it repayment for our little incident before."

"Come along, my sweet Sonata . . ." Staccato smirked, wrapping an arm around her. "I believe we have a symphony of our own to tend to. Your newfound audience here will take care of itself."

With this, Staccato led Sonata away, a hand caressing her stomach, and Ratchet just sat there, feeling like a chunk of his heart had walked off with them.