"I don't know. Depends," Ratchet says carelessly. "I can't tell if your organs have already started dying. You can't exactly replace them here. There's no way to oh, say..." Ratchet folds his arms and leans in, his lip curling, "force me to murder a few of my patients so I can cut their innards out and shove them into you, instead, since you've taken such shamefully poor care of your own body. Just as a random example."