thisavrou | [audio]

[Only the audio clicks on, and the voice coming through the MID is worn, thin with static and carefully controlled.]

This is Chief--this is Ratchet, giving notice that the portion of the inorganic clinic I was running is currently closed until further notice, as of... now, apparently somewhere around a year from when I last checked. I'll be resuming my duties as soon as--when it's possible for me to do so.

In the meantime, I'm referring my patients to the regular medbay or to Tony Stark, depending on the complexity of the engineering involved. If it's a serious emergency... I can't help you, but I'll try to consult via MID if absolutely necessary. I am not available to answer five hundred questions about why, so don't bother asking. I need to work. Kindly refrain from calling me unless you're actively leaking to death.

...Ratchet out.

[PRIVATE TO WHIRL]
I need to speak with you in person. I'm sending you my coordinates.

Please.

[Somebody's hands finally stopped working to the point where he actually has to quit using them all the time and attach new ones, and he is not having a good day. Feel free to harass him, but there's no guarantee he'll respond.]

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[Ratchet drags in a soft, shivering vent of cool air, swallows, then tries to move. The claws twitch slightly and he looks startled, then narrows his optics and tries the movement again. It's smoother this time, all of them shifting together, then one at a time in a slow rippling motion as Ratchet gets the hang of it.]

Nice work. [He sounds more like himself than he has in weeks, his optics suddenly sharp and bright.] Lock it in.

[Whirl watches like he's almost expecting for something to blow up instead of move, and then looks wonderfully surprised when it works, optic huge and antenna flicked forward. He vents until it becomes a buzz again, because frag, that was stressful, and then picks up a tool to be able to bolt things back into place.]

Oh good. Moving's good. Okay. ....Still gonna be careful handing you anything yet.

Just...trust me. On that.

[Whirl might generally like raining on parades, but in this case he's just being practical. If there's anyone that knows how many things you can accidentally break with new claws, it's him.

And on that note, he stats bolting. Once again, this means pulling in one set of pinchers and using the flat of the claw to hold things in place.]

Noted. I'll start with things I don't mind breaking.

[Ratchet shivers all over when Whirl screws the last piece into place and he draws his arm away from the table hesitantly. It holds, of course it does, and he spins it slowly, letting it rotate smoothly in its socket as he manipulates the individual claws before he shuts them with a sharp snap.]

I'll test sensation later and make adjustments when I can, but this is solid. The next one should be easier, I can actually help a bit instead of just telling you what goes where. Here. [He starts pointing to wires with one carefully extended claw, showing Whirl where the proper circuits complete. His head is bent over his own wrist but all the taut, aching tension is drained from him now, leaving him wrung out to a sort of desperate, flensing intensity without urgency, still not rushing Whirl despite his agitation.]

[Having seen that what he's doing at least works some of the more painful tension bleeds out of Whirl's frame. He still is buzzing in lieu of being able to fidget but now his antenna has joined in by actually doing some of the fidgeting he can't do with the rest of him, flicking back and forth. It's easier this time both between Ratchet being able to tell him what to do and it being the other hand, and so it doesn't move at a speed that makes Whirl want to remove his own plating. ]

Think you can test this one.

[ While he waits to see if if's going to need any adjustment, his claws flick yo and down in their wells, restless energy trying to find an outlet.]

[Ratchet nods and doesn't move for a moment, the lines in his face deepening as he struggles to keep his expression blank and even. Finally he pulls the other claw up off the table and repeats the process, testing response and range of motion, his optics so pale they're nearly white.]

They don't hurt anymore. [His voice is soft, almost small as he stares down at his... not hands, not anymore. But they're whole and they work and he'll learn. He doesn't have a choice, and he knows it.

[Ratchet straightens abruptly and snaps the claws shut with a decisive clacking sound, his expression unreadable and intense.]

Thank you, Whirl. [His voice is low but not quiet, thrumming with intense emotion to which he can't quite give a name.] This was very well done.

[Whirl, however, is barely managing to sit still by this point, and went back to rearranging the tools yet again because it was something to do while Ratchet figured out his situation. Once he's got them to a reasonable place....he immediately starts at the top and starts working through the tools lining them up again. The repetitive motion is at least giving him something to do because he's got very little focus and functionality left in him at this point and pretty much wants to find the nearest thing he can to get him horribly smashed.

It's hit the point where it feels like his plating itches and that means he needs to go find something to shoot or distract himself with and he doesn't know how many options he's got at the moment. ]

Does that mean everything's all hunky dory and I can go back to my very important business of....whatever the frag I was doing?

[He doesn't know what to do with the thanks, especially because even if it helped it kind of feels like it didn't which is stupid and he knows it. Ratchet obviously didn't take well to feeling useless. He can relate. Which means this was the best option.

Still sucks slag.

Whirl still continues the same repetitive behavior without actually looking up or particularly interacting in any real way.]

[Ratchet half reaches out, instinctively, but he's arrested by the sight of the claw most of the way towards Whirl's shoulder and he stills for a horrible, nauseating instant before he drops his arm.]

Yes. You can go.

'Kay. Right. Good then. I'll just... I'm out.

[When Whirl does look up he's clearly buzzing with way more energy than he can get rid of, and his helm darts with his optic as he figures out the best way to get out of the room without knocking anything over or knocking Ratchet in the process because he really doesn't want to do that on his way out. His claws do a fairly dramatic drum against the table and then Whirl...

Well, the best way to put it is, he flees though he will literally never admit to it if asked and Primus help anyone who ever thought to accuse him of it.]

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