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

[aerospacecommander]

Does that mean you care for us Decepticons? I'm so touched.

[asafepairofhands]

Touched in the head, maybe.

[Muttering.]

Either way, of course I'll treat you. That's my job.

[aerospacecommander]

I'd hope so. You are my favorite medic after all.

[asafepairofhands]

Starscream, I am literally the only medic here.

[aerospacecommander]

You're still my favorite.

[asafepairofhands]

All right.

[He's looking more weirded out by the second.]

[aerospacecommander]

In fact, you might be more than my favorite.

[asafepairofhands]

Is that so.

[He is going to let you dig this grave with a hand trowel, Starscream.]

[aerospacecommander]

Why not? I find your company quite enjoyable.

[asafepairofhands]

Uh-huh. Is that due to me dumping you off my slab that one time, or me throwing you out of my room? Or maybe me threatening you to keep you from using me as blackmail leverage again? I can see why you're so fond.