heavyweaponsbot | 6th Transmission / Audio

[... Drinking to that. B|]

I believe I will be able to keep up just fine.

[Drinks to that.]

Can you? Never could before... I am more accustomed to it.

[This is a very bad idea, but he will continue to drink heavily from the cube. He has never been able to outdrink Ironhide before, and that is not going to change now.

... But it isn't going to stop him from at least trying.]

I am quite capable of holding my own, thank you. Or are you worried about being shown up by the medic?

[He'll just take a position against the wall, not trusting that squishy bed thing to hold him up. He knows he can outdrink Ratchet, easily. But it's more fun to watch him try. Less stressful too. His cube is emptying rather rapidly, however...]

Hmpf! You have never been able to "show me up". And when you try, you get shot. Usually from behind.

You are hardly one to speak about getting shot.

[Ratchet is far more adventurous and will attempt the squishy bed - which creaks rather ominously under his weight, but so far so good. His cube isn't emptying nearly as quickly, but he is certainly not nursing it.]

And I seem to recall that you were shot in the chest when Starscream got my... Hm. When he shot me in the back.

I am built for it. You are not. Primary function to be shot...

[He sounds almost proud of this. And smug. He watches the creaky bed for a second, making sure it doesn't collapse and drop the good doctor.]

They always go for the chest... Mission City... Egypt... half the fights with NEST...

[Glances at him.]

When he shot you in the aft. Repeatedly.

Hmph. Does not mean you should strive to be hit.

[He's going to concentrate very hard on his energon now, and thank Primus that robots are incapable of blushing. Yes, thank you, Ironhide - he does remember being shot in the aft.

Repeatedly.

He has the welds to prove it too. :|]

... Back, aft. Close enough.

[Oh look, this energon is very good.]

I do not. Just happens. At least I hit back.

[He's grinning, he can tell he's embarrassed, which is better than being angry. Tosses off the rest of the cube, going for another.]

It is not. The dam tore your back up. Starscream preferred your aft.

I was not aware you paid such close attention to my backside.

[He takes a long swig after that, as he is quite certain he will need it. Perhaps that was not the best phrasing he could have chosen...]

[And he promptly chokes, the surprise clogging up his intakes for a minute. He just... stares down into the cube before knocking back about half of it to give himself a second to think.]

... Only because I have to cover it so often. Slow old... [grumble]

[He is just going to concentrate on his own, finally polishing off his first cube. My, it had been some time since he'd had a chance to actually sit and drink high grade like this - he could already feel its effects.

He presented the emptied cube to Ironhide, waiting for another.]

It makes up for the times I have to repair yours.

... Who are you calling old?

[It'll be a few more for him. He's mellowed a bit, but not nearly enough. Disadvantage to drinking with lightweights, they always go down before you do. He passes over another cube, eying the level of his. This was a good idea.]

Just who needed repairs after the dam? Hmn?

... [Points his cube at him.] You. You old ruin.

[Whether or not this was actually a good idea for Ratchet, he would decide the following morning. But with each drink he took, it seemed like a better plan.

He took the cube with a nod of thanks, not waiting to start draining the contents.]

You will never forget that, will you? One time - and if I hadn't, we would have had to haul your sorry aft up from a new-made sea!

Hmn. I have seen relics younger than you.

[Drinking sessions were always a good idea, in Ironhide's mind. Any lingering effects in the morning, he'd deal with in the same way he dealt with injuries--grouchy exterior and annoyance. And besides... this wasn't about him. This was about his closest friend.

He watched the cube's contents. No need to start slowing just yet.]

No, I will not. You were reckless. We could have lost you, and then where would we be, hmn?

... You would have. Poking your scanners into the dirt all the time.

[He was no longer paying attention to Ironhide's speed, but he refused to think that he was too far gone to win now. He worked at his own cube steadily, determined to prove that he could handle at least some high grade.

Perhaps not as much, but some. 'Some' worked. 'Some' would also be more than enough to make him take a conscious effort to speak clearly, and likely make motor functions far less... predictable.]

By my calculations, you would be below a large amount of water, somewhere in Africa.

... You can learn a lot from investigation of your surroundings.

[Meanwhile, however, he was well into his third, considering a forth. All systems were working fine--not perfectly, as the energy intake was beginning to push them into overcharged status, but for the most part, there was little for him to worry about.

His voice had lost some of its usual formality, and the tension had gone out of his joints. Even his pain receptors had been blunted. He was sitting on the floor now, back to the wall.]

I could've gotten out. Climbed back up the dam. Or arrived before it broke... close enough to finishing that traitor off.

... And you can learn more by paying less attention to your own hand sometimes.

[He shifted slightly on the bed, which groaned at the movement, re-positioning himself so he could better see Ironhide. Not that he was hard to miss, even in his downgraded size.]

And if you couldn't? I wouldn't have gone if the need wasn't dire. My life is worth less than the lives of thousands, if not tens of thousands of human lives... Not to mention you, Optimus and the others fighting on the dam when it collapsed.

There is something to be said, for knowing the workings of your own body - You might better learn your own.

[He looked at the bed, blinking. How long until it broke, he wondered. The last remaining bit of energon swirled idly in the cube before he spoke up again.]

I would have. For Prime... [He shifted too, looking down.] Your life's... worth... hmn. Worth much. Dislike seeing you be the one to take enemy fire.

[Down went the last of the third cube, forcefully, almost.]

Know myself well enough. Know my weapon systems. Warning displays. Works out.

[The weight capacity of the bed was one of the furthest things from Ratchet's mind as he continued, tightening his grip on the cube. He never understood how the weapon master could be quite so stubborn over thins, especially when it was clear he had been acting for the greater good.

Of course, the addition of Energon to the mix of these thoughts certainly did not make it any clearer.]

My life pales in comparison to that many innocents. [Grumbles his frustration, finishing the remaining energon in the cube.] I can help just as much as any of the others - I would sooner die saving lives, than watching them extinguished before my optics.

[He was speaking slower, his words more pronounced as he made an effort to keep them coherent and not running together.]

You see them often enough. There are times I think I know your frame better than you do.

[In all honesty, he wasn't quite clear on his reasoning either. Innocent lives mattered--they mattered very much--but the thought of sacrificing their medical officer for them, even so many, was not something he wanted to think about. It hurt. And it scared him.

His response was to drink another round, finally starting to feel the effects.]

You can't help anyone if you're dead. [Formality was gone. Contractions appearing in his speech patterns--something rarely seen in normal conversation.] You can't help us. Or innocents. Everyone needs you alive.

[He noticed the effort, and heavily raised himself to his feet, crossing the space and holding out another cube. Stagger? What stagger?]

You probably do. More reason I need you around.

I was not doing it to get myself offlined.

[Despite his best efforts, he was beginning to slur slightly, leaning to one side as he looked down at the empty cube. He could have sworn it had been full only kliks ago...]

I had to save the dam from Payload. Thanks to his blasts, it was going to... bleed. You know...

[He made an awkward hand motion, which was not helped by the cumbersome energon cube he was still holding.]

Break, and the water would have drowned the innocents. At the time, it seemed most important.

[He twitches noticeably as he watches him move, unconsciously worried that his hip might not support his weight. Setting aside the empty on the bed, he leans forward to take the new one.]

There're other medics, you know.

Could've fooled me.

[He noticed the slur, the listing... it's a sure sign he should slow him down, and would, if he weren't also a little impaired.]

No. Dunno. What's... bleed? [Snorts a little at that hand motion.] Still should've... waited. Or something. Not supposed to take on Payload's class...

[Leans forward to hand over the cube...]

Sure. Other medics. Not my medic.

[Wobbles, and ends up sprawled on the bed next to him. Not... as planned. How many had he even had?]

Human medical term. When they leak fluids...

[He paused, contemplating that for a moment. Ironhide did seem to take offense to any organic leakage.]

Not that sort of leakage... The dangerous type. Internal.

I didn't attack him directly. [Huff. :|] I was warned against that already.

[He manages to take the cube before its holder began to sway - but it would do neither of them much good, as the bed let out a final groan before collapsing to the floor beneath their combined weight with a loud crash.

... Whoops.

While Ratchet did keep his hold on the energon, it did not stop a good deal of it from sloshing up the side, and splattering on him in the faceplates, leaving him blinking for a few moments as he tried to figure out what had just occurred.]

Not saying anything...

[It took him a good bit of time to recover both his wits, and his dignity. The latter did not seem to be returning anytime soon, so he concentrated on his wits. Muttering something, he rolled onto his side, looking up at his friend.]

Told you... the things're unstable. You shouldn't've sat on it.

[As if he were sitting across the room, and not sprawled beside the medic. After a minute, it occurred to him that there was something on Ratchet's faceplates that should not be there.]

You got... stuff. On you. Stuff's on you.

[Were he at all in full possession of his wits, he would have just laughed. Instead, he lifted a heavy, scarred hand to try and wipe some of it off the other.]

It was fine before.

[He was still trying to figure out just how he'd ended up on the floor to begin with, looking at the ruined bed beneath him, then the energon cube still clutched in his hands.]

Hm? Stuff?

[Ratchet only managed a confused expression as Ironhide touched his faceplates, still a little disoriented from the fall.]

What're you- There's... nothing there, Ironhide... 'Cept my faceplates.

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