Ah, so that was what the droid meant. Why hadn't it just said so in the first place? Whoever owned it must not have thought much about upgrading it's colloquial language banks.

"Yeah." Wyl rubbed his sleeve across his nose and nodded. "My knee's all busted up. It stings!"

Trip advanced closer and Wyl shielded a hand over his wounded appendage, just in case. It was strange that this little unit was by itself - it didn't appear to be off on an errand, although he guessed that he could have been misinterpreting the almost uninhibited manner in which the droid was conducting itself. Normally he would have expected it to offer a slapdash apology before rushing off to fulfill whatever mission it's master had supplied it with.

A thought occurred to him: maybe nobody owned it! Wyl's pulse quickened. As defined by the all-important Finders Keepers, Losers Weepers clause, if nobody claimed the droid, he was rightfully entitled to it.

"I'm Wyl." Wyl blinked and tilted his head to the side. "What's your name?"