Clank was a robotic entity, and as such, he lacked the necessary parts for sighing. That didn't mean that, over time, he hadn't come to understand and appreciate the meaning behind what an intake of air and the feeling it could emulate. After Clank had observed several species of organic lifeforms utilize the respiratory processors inherent in their design to do more than just communicate and convert air into the power supply by which the blood flowed, he'd come to appreciate the beauty and subtle intonations that a simple breath could provide.

However, be it a long, drawn output of breath, a short, quick intake, sighs could mirror the emotions of organics with sometimes more precision than actual diction. But Clank could not sigh. That didn't mean that he didn't have the want.

Currently, Clank was putting away a roll of gauze into the first-aide kit that he and his friend Ratchet maintained in whatever starship they flew. Inside the kit were several replacement parts for Clank's own components. Ratchet, as Clank had observed when he'd first met the Lombax, was very handy with a wrench, and could repair any damage Clank sustained in any of their heroic exploits. If there was ever a bug within his own systems, Clank could diagnose and reprogram it himself.

Ratchet, however, was a different story. The nanotechnology that could repair Ratchet's wounds was ideal, but it wasn't always in supply. A substantial part of their first aide kit was reserved for the nanites necessary to heal Ratchet's wounds when they were traveling from planet to planet. However, they were out. So out came gauze, a needle and thread, and painkillers. These instances were rare. Normally, if they were running low on such supplies, they'd stop and restock.

This time, unfortunately, the planet they had been on was far too difficult and they weren't sufficiently prepared. Ratchet had paid the price for that. Granted, Clank himself had several servos that weren't functioning properly but Ratchet right now was his primary concern. As a biological entity, wounds took longer to heal on their own and couldn't be left untreated lest viruses of a different nature would ruin his processes. Clank had his own antivirus systems imbedded in his operations, but Ratchet's antivirus system worked in strange and unusual ways. Clank had observed and read up on organic and biological functions so he understood the seriousness of what could happen to any injury that Ratchet incurred.

Ratchet flexed his arm, rolling it around slowly to ascertain the repair job. There was a sharp intake of breath, along with an eye roll, before the Lombax turned to his friend. "Not bad," he said.

"Your own ability to commence repairs is far superior to mine. 'Nurse Rachet,' I am not," Clank said, wishing again that he could sigh.

The Lombax shrugged his shoulders before wincing. "It'll do in a pinch. How long until we get to Blackwater City?"

"I calculate several megacycles."

"Good, then there's time for me to work on you." He pulled out his trademark wrench and beckoned. "Come here, let me see what I can do about those sparks."

Over time, Clank had learned that there were several possible permutations that Ratchet defined as "fun." The only permutation that Clank was ever completely comfortable with was the one called "tinkering." Being handy with a wrench was one thing; Clank had learned, however, that it was much, much, more than that. Ratchet habitually disassembled any and every weapon, gadget, and gizmo he ever purchased or found; bolt by bolt, servo by servo, chip by chip. Not only that, but he was somehow able to reverse engineer the mechanics of whatever device he was working on, understanding it even better than Clank who, being a robot, had a much easier time contemplating machinery. Once disassembly was done and the store bought article was laid out on the floor of their ship, he would frown at the bits and pieces, staring sometimes for megacycles, before a light would turn on behind his eyes and he would begin reassembly. Only, he wouldn't put it back the way it was supposed to. Instead, he would modify, rearrange, and miraculously improve the gadget or weapon, making it more efficient, more powerful. Taking it to the next level, as it were.

"Ah, there's the problem," Ratchet said as he removed a piece of Clank's plating. "You're servo-defragmatizer is over extended. I'll have to replace it. I think we have a spare in the kit, let me go check."

The Lomax stood up and walked, if gingerly, to the first-aide service kit. Clank watched pensively.

Other titles that fell under the definition of fun for Ratchet included such words as "adventure," and "excitement." It wasn't long until Clank generated the postulate that his friend had deficient adrenal resources unless he was in a life-and-death confrontation with... someone. Often, when about to face off with some giant mechanoid in the streets of Metropolis, or upon discovering a bio-mechanical monstrosity is a deep sewer, the Lombax would turn his head to catch Clank out of the corner of his eye and smile. "Come on; it'll be fun."

Clank had yet to agree. Ever.

This did not deter, however, from the fact that Ratchet was beyond capable as a fighter. Upon reflection Clank could not believe his luck in being found by Ratchet; he doubted his mission would have been remotely successful if not without him. For one, Ratchet had longer legs and could therefore move quicker in battle. Clank, still too new to be a proper warrior, had been able instead to shine as an assist, giving height with his helipack or his thrusters, storing weapons and quite literally being the eyes on the back of Ratchet's head. Well, his neck, to be technically correct. What Clank lacked in physical ability or agility Ratchet made up for and then added to for sheer ingenuity in how to combine weapons to make effective tactical maneuvers. While Ratchet, for all his bravado, did not excel greatly in his people skills, Clank was able to come to the forefront as he calculated what words and syntax would best garner the results they were looking for.

They were an indomitable team.

Ratchet's tail swayed happily as he rummaged through Clank's first-aide service kit before he found what he was looking for. Despite his own injuries, the Lombax was pleased to be able to tinker. Walking back over, he sat down by his robotic friend. "Last time I had to replace your servo-defragmatizer, you went offline for a few minutes. Do you want to do that now?"

"That will be unnecessary," he replied. "I merely need a moment to reprogram my receptors for the area." Clank paused before turning. "It is a shame you are unable to do so."

Ratchet raised an eyebrow, but smirked. "I won't deny that I dislike hurting, but at least when I hurt, I know I'm alive. Not the best definition, and really inconvenient at times, but whatever works."

The Lombax was very easy-going in that regard. Whatever came his way, he would deal with to the best of his ability with whatever he had available (especially weapons). Ratchet had really grown up in that regard. When they'd first met, with Ratchet's voice raspy with the transition of age, he'd been a rather selfish teenager. Granted, from what Clank observed and read, teenagers no matter the species could be a little selfish until they had adjusted to the realm of adulthood. It was the same for Ratchet. Ratchet didn't think the universe revolved around him, but he did want to go out and do what he wanted to do. Find adventure, explore the cosmos. The fact that the only reason he was able to do so was because he'd agreed to help Clank save their solar system from Drek was incidental and not really as important as a hoverboard race or being able to buy a RYNO off the black market. Ratchet only went after Drek because it would lead him to Qwark, a man he had a personal vendetta against.

That was no longer the case. Yes, Ratchet would still pause their universe-saving if a race or competition came up, but he was able to shoulder responsibility. If someone called in need of help, rather than blowing it off for a vid-comic, Ratchet would turn to Clank, smile, and hop into their ship to head off into danger. Clank was certain that part of the rush to leave was because of the inherent adventure that the Lombax seemed to thrive on, but there was also a firm desire to help people, be it Darla Gratch, the Galactic Rangers, or planet populations facing off with out-of-control proto-pets. Ratchet never hesitated. He'd grown into a remarkable young man.

There was a loud thunk before Ratchet reapplied Clank's plating and bolting it back on. "That oughta do it. How's it feel?"

Clank brought his receptors back online. "Excellent," he replied. "Thank you."

"No problem." The Lombax got up stiffly, rolling his bad shoulder and wincing ever so briefly. "So, think we can find anything good on the holo-vid out here?"

"That would depend on your definition of 'good'."

Ratchet smiled.

"Besides, I believe that you could use rest more than a holo-vid."

"Probably. But until the exhaustion catches up with me, I don't see why I can't do a few more things. Even something as non-strenuous as a little holo-vid."

The lights behind Clank's green optics brightened. "In that case, should we not try to device a better strategy for that planet so that you are not taken unaware again?"

Ratchet, predictably, groaned. Clank's companion hated planning something out, saying that there was no point since something unplanned would always happen. He preferred to make it up as he went along and didn't want to go through all the work of planning. Clank, by contrast, had a more orderly method of thinking and liked having such details mapped out. The two of them would often go over a map of a planet and come up with a basic plan of attack. One that was precise enough for Clank, but still open-ended for Ratchet.

"No thanks, Clank. I guess sleep it is."

Clank's eyes brightened. "Do not worry. I will monitor our travel and wake you if the need arises."

Ratchet grinned. "You'll need some shut-eye for yourself, won't you?"

"I am in a better state than you are. Get some rest, Ratchet. All will be well."

"Sure thing."

The Lombax walked stiffly to the back of the cabin, where there was a soft bed while Clank walked forward to the controls. He would monitor their ship, of course, but primarily, he'd keep his scanners on Ratchet. He may not be a medical droid, but Clank had been subtly upgrading some of his scanners and sensors to better monitor the Lombax's condition, considering how much danger they could get into. It wasn't much. But it was enough for Clank to be able to keep an eye on his friend and ensure that nothing else could go wrong. He suspected that Ratchet, similarly, had been studying up on Clank's model of robot to better facilitate repairs.

Clank didn't mind. They were an indomitable team. But they were also the best of friends.