"No," Ratchet says after a long moment. "No, I'm not you. I'm nothing like you."

His eyes are still on Tarn's face, his breath misting in front of him in the cold as he clenches his hands into slow fists, feeling the ache of the scars wrapping his wrists.

"Pharma wasn't like you, either. Not until he made a deal with you. So I think you can go fuck yourself."