Clank opens the garage door's lock, and Nova leads him and Qwark into the building. A grin spreads across the larger robot's face as he takes in his surroundings, and the smaller robot shuts the door. "Oh man," Qwark begins. "I haven't been in here in so long, it really hasn't changed much, huh? And look at that, the VG 9000 is still here!"

"Yeah," the markazian responds. "It was in storage, but Clank and I play it nowadays. Last time I tried to pick a game though, I found Dwelling Sin. I immediately chickened out!"

An eyebrow plate is raised at the very thought. "The original? The scariest part of that one is the clunky controls and the voice acting!"

Nova offers a light laugh. "Hey now, you try playing horror games when you didn't know what holo games could be a month prior!"

Qwark returns the gesture with a chuckle of his own. "That's a good point, little buddy. Hey, you guys wanna play something for a bit? For old time's sake?"

"Sounds like a plan, but first, I need to get this dress off." Thin fingertips roll the cloth, ripped and stained, and the young woman pouts at the state of things. "It's practically torn to shreds now. Shame too. I loved this dress. I really loved it, you suggested such a beautiful design, Qwark. Thank you."

Shaking the disappointment from her mind, Nova turns to the bedroom. "Nope, not the time for this. My regular clothes should be in the other room, I'll be back. After that, we'll boot up the VG 9000 and have a good time!" With her posture a bit straighter now, Nova steps to the door.

Before she can get too far, Qwark stops her. "I don't wanna sound weird asking, but do you need help with the dress? Getting the zipper down, I mean. I know those things can get pretty tight. Believe me, I've worn some pretty tight dresses before."

"I appreciate the thought. Don't take this the wrong way Captain, but uh, I'd rather that there not be an audience with my chest out. Tell you what, let me handle this and you can have the first pick of the game we play."

His optics fill with shining stars, and his trademark grin spreads further across his face. "Really?! Thank you! I'll look through the shelf!" With that, Qwark scurries over to the collection.

While the larger hero is distracted, Clank watches as his companion reaches for the door. "One moment, Nova."

"Yes?" Her gaze moves to his, and she kneels down to his level.

"I could not help but notice that your cheek was bleeding before. If I may, could I check and make sure there is no further injury to you and apply Nanotech if need be?"

Nova's eyes widen a bit, but before she has the chance to respond, Clank immediately retracts the statement. "I do not mean to pry, of course. Perhaps I should have phrased that differently." Metal digits tap together, and he looks away for a moment. "What I meant is: It is possible that you sustained injury tonight that would normally be healed with Nanotech, if the EMP had not disabled the nanites that would usually be in your system. If you would like me to leave you an orb at the door, I will do so."

She watches her companion stumble over himself over such a harmless request, and can't help but think that the sight is rather adorable. Her first instinct after that is, reasonably, mild embarrassment. After all, that would mean getting off her dress. Then Clank would see her bare skin.

A wave of calm then rushes over the markazian. Knowing Clank, there's no inappropriate intent with the situation. "No no, don't feel bad," she insists. "It's really sweet that you want to check on me. I don't mind at all."

Her answer surprises Clank, but he recovers quickly other than a few taps of his fingertips. "Are you sure? I do not mind giving you privacy."

She looks away for a moment, finding the right words. "Well, I'm not...naked or anything. I won't force you to stay if you're uncomfortable, but I don't mind if you do that check. Mostly shooed off Qwark because I didn't want him to see me undress."

"Very well." As Nova opens the door and gathers her clothes, Clank gets a handful of fresh Nanotech orbs from storage. His organic partner sits down on the bed, patiently waiting for him to begin. "May I check the cut on your face first? There is still a bit of dried blood."

"Sure, go ahead," she says. Clank retrieves a first aid kit from under the bed, grabbing two small antiseptic wipes from it. After opening the first wipe and cleaning his hands, he gently moves the skin to gauge how deep the wound is. The feeling makes Nova wince a bit. "Sorry, I didn't realize how raw it was. Guess I'm used to Nanotech."

"It is fairly deep, my apologies for agitating it. Thankfully, Nanotech will heal most wounds with minimal to no scarring. I do not believe this particular instance will leave any such scars." The other wipe is opened for her face. "This may sting a bit."

The markazian hums, acknowledging his presence while keeping her face still. As her companion works, Nova recalls a previous situation where another man touched her cheek in a similar manner. At the time, the scene felt unprompted, unexpected, and uncomfortable. No such feeling is present now, she notices.

It feels gentle...correct. Intimate, but not necessarily in a romantic way.

"Nova?"

Broken out of her thoughts, she blinks at Clank. "Yes?"

"You seemed rather distracted, but I wanted to ask you something. Did the Goons-4-Less mercenaries do this to you while the EMP was active?"

"Oh, sorry. I guess I didn't hear you the first time," she answers. "But no, Saros did this. He called the Goons in the first place, probably under Nefarious' order. Took the knife too, for some reason. Probably some weird fantasy or something, Orvus knows."

Satisfied with his work, but not with these new details, Clank pulls the wipe away. "That is a bit disturbing to hear. I mostly ask in case the blade was coated in some dangerous substance. Upon closer inspection, however, there are no such signs."

In hindsight, Clank doubts that Nefarious would use a tactic such as poison anyway; the doctor preferred a more direct, hands-on approach to dealing with him and Ratchet. He refrains from saying this out loud, not wanting to keep the conversation on such topics. "The cut on your cheek is clean, and will heal with any other injury when I apply Nanotech. May I continue?"

"Oh, right. Sure." stretching her hand behind her back to reach for the zipper at the top.

It's a struggle, and her fingertips persistently hover just before their intended target. "I, uh, guess I needed your help after all," Nova mumbles. "I can't reach it. Could you get that for me?"

"Alright." Clank carefully unzips her dress, averting his optics as the damaged garment falls. He picks up her stack of normal clothes, placing it at her side.

Nova shuffles into her pants and takes a seat once more, after noticing no injury to her legs. As she looks back, the sight of her smaller friend practically staring a hole into the opposite wall brings out a short chuckle. "I promise I'm not offended, Clank. I trust you."

With a bit of hesitation, Clank turns around. The same muscles and curves he saw through the doorway meet his optics now, much closer than before. "I hope it is not rude of me to mention this, but your...specifications are remarkable."

"My specifications?" The markazian takes this comment in, and when the meaning clicks, a pinkish glow fills her cheeks and ears. "Oh! Thank you, Clank."

"You are most welcome." Upon closer inspection, the state of things makes Clank glad he mentioned Nanotech. Gently, he glides his fingertips over the dark blotches that now rest all over her back, clashing harshly against her usual markings. "These bruises, did they come from Saros too?"

She lowly hums, shivering as she adjusts to the cold of the robot's hand. "Not entirely. We fought a bit, but he ran off after the Goons dropped. Most of this is probably from the Goons themselves, but I was mostly dodging them by the time you woke up. Don't think they got many hits in."

Green optics narrow in irritation. "Saros is a coward, and a fool. He never should have put you through this. This bruising looks extremely painful, and there could be further injury underneath the skin as well."

"I'm okay, I promise," she assures.

Clank thinks back to that moment, the split second he was pushed to the ground before he blacked out. "If that machine was not an EMP, you could have been critically injured, or worse. The Goons, or Saros, could have killed you." A Nanotech orb is crushed in his hand.

"I know. I just..." Nova simply holds her hands in her lap, allowing her honest thoughts to flow. "I wish I knew what to do about him. I don't know if I should be angry, or worried, or something else."

"You still think of him fondly, after all of this?"

"It's...complicated." Her mind pictures the look on his face, right before he left. She shrugs, unsure how best to phrase things. "I'm just, I don't know, confused. He was my friend, before Nefarious' stupid broadcast. In a moment of stress, I pushed him away."

Irritation leaves the caretaker, replaced with focus on the task at hand: healing this mess. "Friends do not leave such deep bruises or lacerations, Nova." The diminutive robot gently presses his fingertips onto the largest bruise, and the nanites begin to transfer to their target.

"I know." The young hero shivers at the chill of Nanotech, feeling it's usual tingling at the bruises she didn't notice until now. "He made his choice, but…I wish I could know what Nefarious told him that made him hate me this much."

It takes a moment, but Clank finds the words to help. "If it is any comfort, you have new friends now," he offers. "Qwark, Big Al, and myself, for example. We will support you, and each other, in the fight against Nefarious, and that is what matters." Nanotech's trademark glow disappears from the organic before him, taking the bruises and the cut with it.

The chill in Nova's body subsides. "I know. It's just that..." Her mind rewinds to the bakery, then to Destructapalooza. Closing her eyes to think only makes it worse. All she sees there is her robotic companion's dead optics. "I just…" That was too close.

A deep huff escapes from her, a thick bog of emotions she has no idea how to put into words. It never should have come to this.

"I just want my friend back."

Clank takes in her plea, and understands what she really meant by that. "I know."

"I want to have faith in that nerdy guy I saw that movie with and talked about holo games with. I want to believe he's still in there somewhere. And that's so, so hard to do when..." The words stop flowing, like walking a maze's path and coming up to a dead end. Nova opens her mouth, and nothing comes.

Frustrated, she sighs, dropping the previous rant. A few moments of silence brings another phrase that summarizes it better. "I just wish I knew how to fix this."

"I know, Nova."

Without another word, the markazian's gaze moves to a floor length mirror. It's angled in a way that they can both see the situation they're in. Clank notices that her face has completely dropped, and her eyes have lost their focus. "You seem very deep in thought tonight," he says, aiming to break her self-induced trance.

The color immediately returns to her eyes. "Oh! Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking to myself. Could I ask you a Ratchet related question?"

"Of course."

"Did you and him share moments like this? One patching up the other and all." Her mind's eye tries it's best to picture it; wondering about the details of adventures that would have led to such scenes is a welcome distraction from the present.

"Yes, we did," Clank explains, happy to move the subject away from the other markazian. "It was a rare occurrence, since we tried to keep an ample supply of Nanotech in our line of work. My body is easily repaired with the right tools, and most of your armors circulate a steady stream of Nanotech throughout the body whenever activated. Any break in that stream indicates a hit, and the armor repairs itself. The injury is healed with the nanites that leak out from that damage as well."

"I see."

Clank watches her eyes move back to the mirror, seemingly content with his answer. "You seem to be looking into your reflection quite a bit lately."

Her eyes don't leave the mirror, but she responds quickly. "I guess I have, huh? It's weird, staring at myself just wasn't something I tended to do a lot back on Quantos." Nova drops her legs over the side of the bed, sitting up straight. "Growing up, I never had the full context for the way I looked. But now, I do."

"Is this behavior insecurity over your scars, or something else?" Clank asks.

"Not exactly," she clarifies. "My body's also changed a bit. I mean, I have more upper arm strength now than I've ever had in my life, for example. Didn't care much about climbing trees as a kid. Spent my time on the ground; helping with the cooking, listening to the elders' lessons, and hunting when I got older. The only weapon I used was a loaner staff from the barracks, then my own. Used knives for preparing food. And all that stuff's a lot lighter than you and Ratchet's arsenal. Huh, I guess all the heavy weapons training really paid off."

"Your physical strength has absolutely improved," Clank encourages. "You held your own against those Goons very well! And to think you doubted yourself at the start of your training."

"Yeah," Nova smiles. "Part of me wonders if Ratchet doubted himself at times. In all the photos and all the old news articles, he always seemed to carry himself with so much confidence."

"Yes, and no," Clank explains. "You are quicker to stress yourself than he ever was, but he was also quick to doubt his own talents at times. I suppose that in and of itself is not an uncommon trait, especially in the profession we are in. You would likely relate to him quite a bit if you could have seen him right before the Festival of Heroes."

"When you offered him the Dimensionator, right? You'll have to tell me more about that story someday."

"Perhaps. I believe you would have enjoyed Rivet's company."

"I bet," Nova grins. "From the pictures I've seen, Miss Rivet was absolutely jacked. I'm totally jealous."

The blunt response throws Clank for a loop, and he's left to blink in shock. "Erm, 'jacked', Nova?"

Nova waves off the concern with a shrug. "Oh, it's just some holonet term I picked up. She looked really strong, is what I meant. I hope I look that tough."

Clank simply brings his hands together for a moment, as if taking in a breath, then turns his wrists to point his fingertips toward Nova. "You...have seen yourself in a mirror lately, have you not?"

The markazian raises an eyebrow at the question, giving a hesitant response. "Yes?"

A metal finger is raised to comment, but dropped in defeat. "Nevermind."

All of a sudden, the bedroom door swings open. Qwark bursts in with a smile, and a hologame case in hand. "Nova, Clank! I found the perfect-"

The startled markazian turns beet red, grabbing a throw blanket that was once draped over the mattress. Clank's leg is smacked by the cloth whip, and he ends up flipped like a pancake and lands face down on the bed. "Turn around, you pretzel!"

Qwark covers his eyes and yelps in surprise, quickly doing just that. "Sorry, Sorry! I thought you two were done, it was taking forever!" After hearing the shuffle of clothes come to a stop, he peeks over his shoulder. "I wasn't, uh, interrupting anything, was I?"

A pillow is chucked towards Qwark's face, landing right between his eyes.