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]

I've been trying to haul everybody in here, if only to re-establish a medical baseline if anything happens. And honestly, after everything that's been going on with you specifically, doing a thorough check will make it one fewer thing I'll be worrying about.

[He taps delicately at the screen folded out of his wrist with a single clawtip, his optics flicking over from the readouts to Ravage's face, just briefly.]

I'm glad. [His claws slow for a moment, his face unreadable as he stares down at the screen.] ...I was the one who told him. Once we knew you were--once we knew what had happened at home. It was... not easy. I don't regret doing it, I guess, but it wasn't easy. I'm glad you've seen him again.

[Ratchet shakes himself free of that odd stillness that briefly possessed him and turns back to Ravage, claws flexing thoughtfully.]

Anyway, not trusting the captains seems a safe bet--I have no clue if they even know what the hell they're doing. You seem all right, though, as far as I can tell.