Ratchet watches York right back for a moment, then nods and shifts closer, cupping a hand against the back of his neck again carefully. What do you need? he'd asked, and now Ratchet has an answer, despite the worry tightening his own belly that doesn't have anything to do with whether or not he wants York. He has no practical idea what he's doing and no real way to tell York why when he has more than a right to know, especially now.

"I'm not going anywhere," he says instead of any of that, careful to keep any of that apprehension from showing on his face.