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[No video this time, and Ratchet's voice sounds a little ragged over the feed.]

Public service announcement--if anyone knows, or knows of, the Cybertronian called Tarn, you might have heard about his ability to damage or even kill others with his voice. This is no longer an issue.

[He declines to give anything even vaguely resembling a detailed explanation as to why. He's also well aware that Tarn might be listening, but does not appear to care in the slightest.]

I don't know if it ever worked on organics, mostly because testing it might have involved the subjects being very dead even if Tarn had agreed, but I'd ask any engineers to kindly refrain from repairing his damaged vocalizer in the meantime. He can still communicate, it's not completely busted. If you feel like fixing any of his other injuries, fine, it's your funeral, but he's already committed murder once on this ship and the fewer weapons he has, the better.

...just wanted to let people know there's one less thing to worry about. It's not news we hear often around here, I'm finding.

Ratchet out.

(OOC: posted shortly after this)

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Yes, sometimes.

Mostly just to hurt and scare people, not to kill them, but he could have if he'd wanted.

Oh.

[So...just like them.]

...'re you gonna do it t' other people, too?

What? No.

[Ratchet's frown is almost audible, and he reaches up to click the video feed on, his remaining optic steady despite the damage done to the other side of his face.]

Listen. Tarn nearly beat a friend of mine to death with his bare fists, then came to the medbay after I'd finally stabilized him to try and scare him some more and hurt me, too. I didn't go looking for a fight, and I'm not targeting anyone--I hurt him because it was the only way to get him to leave me and my patient alone, no other reason.

[Frisk pauses for a moment before turning their own feed on as well. They seem to be curled up somewhere dark, and there's bags under their eyes that suggest they haven't slept well.]

But you don't want his dangerous part fixed. 'Cuz he could hurt people.

...I could've hurt people, too.

[But it's not like anyone would remember, right?]

[Ratchet watches them for a long moment, looking thoughtful.]

Do you like hurting people?

[They flinch, and duck their head with a firm shake. It sounds like they try to speak, but can't quite make their throat work.]

Tarn does.

[Ratchet's voice is gentle.]

That's why he came to the medbay. Because he wanted to hurt me and my friend, because that's all he knows how to do when he's upset or angry, and because he enjoys it. That's why it's different.

Okay?

[They're silent and still, for a long moment. It's not...that's not why. They wouldn't get angry, they would be bored, get curious, decide to play with people like toys, like they don't matter at all--]

[But they can't make themself say it. Too cowardly to admit it. Selfish enough to want to stay safe.]

[So instead, they slowly now.]

Where are you?

[Ratchet's tone is still as soft as he can make it.]

You don't have to tell me, and I'm certainly not going to--to do anything to you, but I'd like to stop by. If you don't mind.

[Everything else aside, Frisk doesn't exactly look like they're having a great time.]

I'm...um. 'M on th' observation deck.

[They swallow thickly, and force a more confident expression on.]

...you don't gotta come. 'M okay.

I know I don't have to do anything. Sit tight for me, all right?

[It doesn't take Ratchet long to get to the observation deck and he moves carefully in the relatively small space, looking around.]

Frisk? Are you still here?

[Frisk has curled up in one of the window seats, as small as they can make themself and leaned against the cold glass. Even with the insulation it's cold as ice, and they can feel their cheek going numb from the prolonged contact. They can't find it in themself to care, though.]

[When Ratchet enters Frisk finally stirs, and they can practically feel their joints creaking as they carefully unfold themself to lean out, peeking just around the lip of the indented space to look up at the cybertronian walking towards them.]

Uh-huh.

Hey, kid.

[Ratchet also wedges himself as small as he can next to Frisk's seat, sitting down carefully and folding his claws in his lap.]

How're you holding up?

[Frisk shrugs a little, folding back up into their small ball now that Ratchet has come over.]

'M okay.

[They don't need to worry him.]

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