[Ratchet makes a low sound, rubbing absently at the thick scarring circling one of his wrists with the opposite hand.]

We don't have anything like that at home. That's--well. I guess 'lucky' isn't the word for it. I don't know what the word for that would be. [His eyes find Miles' face.] Glad you made it, though. That must have been a hell of a surgery.