"Suddenly being in a blizzard on a different planet is a good reason for anyone," York comments, managing a weak smile. "And it's horrible. I've never felt like this before."

He reaches out and grasps Ratchet's hand, his eye lingering on the scars at his wrist. Seems they both have their share of marks. "I'm York." Then, because he's curious, and should offer his ear to listen in return: "How did it mess with you?"