[Ratchet feels the weight of his other hand leave the end of his wrist and he pulls that one away too, tucking it under the desk and leaning hard on his knees.]

Yeah. Yeah, just--

[He clenches his jaw so hard he can feel the helpless clicking of a gear trying to strip as he swallows hard against another swamping wave of disoriented nausea, curling in tighter. His optics flicker wildly before he shutters them and hunches over, the flat plate at the center of his chevron pressed to the top of the desk and a vicious, rattling shiver working slowly down his back.

[It's a long moment before he stills and he has no idea what sort of expression is on his face as he sits up but he shifts again, laying both his wrists back on the table and staring down at the bare, unpainted mechanisms in his forearms, the wires trailing limp and haphazard from the ends of his wrists.]

Yes. [His voice his horribly steady.] I'll tell you which leads go where. Connect them back up first before you lock them into place--it'll give you more room to work and I can test before everything's settled back where it should be.