44th Transmission - Video

[heavyweaponsbot]

[There's a brief shot of Ironhide's face.  He looks, as per usual, disgruntled, while he toys with the comm.  Behind him are flashes of piles of objects, ranging from cardboard boxes of what looks like leather, to a neat row of plants in empty bottles.]

...

Need a favor.  Someone.

[That's all he says before the feed clicks off.]

Comments

[heavyweaponsbot]

[It takes some doing, but the lobster is soon off! Good job, Xanth!]

... Damaged?

[brittlenerves.livejournal.com]

Um-- not-- not b-bad. Bruised, but no-- no blood.

[heavyweaponsbot]

Bruised?

[He leans forward enough, holding the lobster in one huge hand, to see this bruising.]

Dangerous?

[brittlenerves.livejournal.com]

I-I don't-- think so?

[heavyweaponsbot]

... It has damaged your exterior.

[Thank you, Ironhide, for that riveting assessment of the obvious.]

[brittlenerves.livejournal.com]

W-Well, yeah, but uh, I'll-- I'll be fine. N-Nothing to worry about.

[heavyweaponsbot]

[He gives him a long look, and then nods.]

Good. I will not worry, then.

[brittlenerves.livejournal.com]

Wh--what about th-the lobster?

[heavyweaponsbot]

Toss it back in the water with the other one, I guess.

[He glances from the squirmy orange thing to the bathtub and back.]

[brittlenerves.livejournal.com]

[heavyweaponsbot]

[He glances at the boy, and then, pointedly, shoves himself to his feet, his optics narrowed.]

Got it. You are damaged.

[brittlenerves.livejournal.com]

Wh-- but... it-- it's not... not that bad, and-- your leg is worse...

[heavyweaponsbot]

[As he limp-drags himself past the kid, he nudges him with a knuckle.]

Benefit of this form. Shutting down pain receptors.

you so good to him daddybot :3

[brittlenerves.livejournal.com]

...i-if you say s-so...

Shhh, don't tell anyone.

[heavyweaponsbot]

[A benefit of being huge is his reach. He doesn't need to go too far before he can drop the lobster in the tub.]

I do say so. You do not believe me?

[brittlenerves.livejournal.com]

W--Well, s-sometimes people... don't... say w-when they're hurting, o-or, don't think th-they're hurt as--as bad as they a-are, or, some-something.

[heavyweaponsbot]

[Ironhide just stares, blinking. What is that... what is he doing? After a long silence, he snorts, shaking his head.]

You already know me too well, boy.

[brittlenerves.livejournal.com]

W-Well, I just, I-I know people like you, I--I guess.

[heavyweaponsbot]

... How is that working out for you?

[Maybe Xanth and Ratchet can compare notes.]

[brittlenerves.livejournal.com]

Umm... a-alright, I guess? It's a little wo--worrying, but, uhm, I'm-- I'm used to that.

[heavyweaponsbot]

[He snorts.]

You should speak to Ratchet sometime. He has similar problems.

[brittlenerves.livejournal.com]

S-Speaking of, he's... he's out, r-right? Did he... know about th-the lobster?

[heavyweaponsbot]

[While the room is more cluttered than a yard sale on crack, there's no sign of the neon medic anywhere.]

Yeah... probably back on deck twelve...

[Ironhide hates that deck.]

... He does now.

[brittlenerves.livejournal.com]

O-Oh, uhm.



H-He's not... mad o-or anything, is-- is he? I mean he, he shouldn't be, w-we found the lobster and it was, uhm, not--not h-hurt or a--anything...

[heavyweaponsbot]

[Ironhide reaches out with his good leg, poking at Xanth with a toe.]

He is... displeased with me. That is nothing new. Not worried about it.