Ratchet makes a dissatisfied sound in his throat, but he's in just as much trouble as York so there likely isn't anything he can do about it. The helplessness of it rolls in his belly, tightening up his chest and he's wrapping one hand around the opposite wrist and rubbing roughly at the scar there before he even things about it, stopping after a moment and just hanging his head.

"All right," he says, his grip tightening as he draws in a slow breath and lets it out. "Just, be careful please."