( It isn't. Aventurine knows what it means, what it could mean, and finds himself wholly unequipped to deal with the mortifying ordeal of being wanted without strings, without a second agenda. Just for simply being who he is, for all his flaws, for all that he is worthless when the trappings of the IPC are stripped away from him.

Changing that... accepting that-- he's not ready to make that gamble. Not yet. After all, this is one he doesn't want to risk losing. )

Maybe they were distracted by those large muscles of yours, Doc. ( A grin, because he is still shameless. ) No one expects a man with eight PhDs to look like you do. Although-- you'd think they'd know who they were grabbing. Maybe they don't. Maybe it's not all as planned and as neat and tidy as they'd like to make us believe it is.

( A random pull, and dealing with whatever hand was dealt them. Not the best way to go about saving a world, but neither is keeping Ratio from doing what he does best -- things that aren't manual labor. )