video;

[asafepairofhands]

[This time when Ratchet starts broadcasting, the video clicks on. He looks a little worn, but there's an underlying stubborn determination there, deepening the lines at the corners of his mouth.]

Ratchet here. Consider the inorganic section of medical officially back in business. That goes for everyone who's even part mechanical, not just Cybertronians--my door is open.

If you are Cybertronian and I haven't seen you for a check, you're due. I'm aware I still can't exactly order any of the Decepticons around ranking medical officer or not, but except for certain individuals who know who they are, you're welcome as well and I recommend it. Who knows what the hell this place is doing to us--I'd appreciate a baseline just in case something does go wrong and I end up having to do something about it.

Anyway, that's it. Ratchet out.

Comments

[asafepairofhands]

It worked out for the best, considering I probably would have ended up throwing myself off a cliff eventually once my hands degraded down to nothing.

[He's only really half-joking, but he shakes his helm.]

That is a deeply stirring endorsement, Bee, thank you.

[taselikeabee]

Nah. You're neither that suicidal nor dumb. Out of everyone, you usually have the most common sense.

[asafepairofhands]

Mmmm.

[He looks down at the claws, opening and closing them as they rotate in the sockets of his wrists, his expression contemplative.]

I suppose.

[taselikeabee]

Like I said. Usually.

[asafepairofhands]

How very flattering.

[taselikeabee]

Someone has to flatter you. I mean you make it seem like not too many people do.

[asafepairofhands]

Nobody has to flatter me, actually. It's not exactly a perq included in my currently nonexistent salary.

[taselikeabee]

No, but maybe more should.