13th Transmission

[heavyweaponsbot]

[There are dragging, scraping sounds as the comm clicks on, and they continue throughout the transmission.]

I require...

[A long pause, as if the next part is physically painful to say.]

... a mechanic. And a drink.

[The comm clicks off there, as the speaker continues hauling his broken old aft toward his quarters.]

Comments

[Commentlog Time!]

[mnu-spreadslies.livejournal.com]

[Christopher seems fascinated by this mech's appearance. It's not quite as big as the biosuits of his kind--probably due to the boat's dampening affect-- but it's made of intimidating metal plating and wiring. He steps up to the seated mech and puts his drawer of tools on the floor.]

I am here to attempt repairs. I'm assuming that hole in your chest is what I should attend to fist?

[Commentlog Time!]

[heavyweaponsbot]

[He blinks. Whatever this being is, he's never seen anything like him before. It makes him wary, somewhat. But whatever the other is, he can't hurt him. Still, he's hesitant to let anyone else see to his more delicate repairs.]

No, leave that...

[Ironhide shifts his weight, gesturing down to his hip joint.]

Needs seeing to.

[Commentlog Time!]

[mnu-spreadslies.livejournal.com]

[Christopher chirrus and blinks.]



[He then looks at the hip joint. It seems that it's been popped out of place, and some of the wiring has been damaged.]

[Commentlog Time!]

[heavyweaponsbot]

[He shrugs, rolling his good optic.]

All of my exterior is sharp. And removal... is inadvisable. As is cutting. My armor is stronger than most.

[Now he nods.]

Best start there. Before pain receptors online.

[Commentlog Time!]

[mnu-spreadslies.livejournal.com]

[The Poleepkwa shifts through his tools briefly before pulling out a few select things. His first order of business, however, is to get that joint back in its socket properly before he worries about mending the Autobot's damaged wiring or broken plates.

He then hooks up some wires that run from Ironhide's leg to a small computer-like box, shoddily put together, but still operational. After striking the keys a few times, what appears to be a holographic HUD of sorts springs up from the small box.]



[He then squirts an oily substance on his clawed hand and applies it gently to the joint, easing Ironhide's damaged leg back up into the hip socket, his eyes on the flickering HUD all the while.]

[Commentlog Time!]

[heavyweaponsbot]

[Suddenly, Ironhide is reminded of why he preferred one medic, and one medic alone. He snarls involuntarily, jerking backward from the unfamiliar hands invading his space. He asked for this, he knows. But that doesn't stop the reaction.

Especially when there are wires and things in him he never asked for. This was a terrible idea--the stranger is trying, the stranger couldn't understand his reaction anymore than he could help it. His engine kicks on, a low, rumbling growl building.]

I could simply tell you when it hurts! I am alive...! Not some mere machine...!

[He's taking his anger out on the unfortunate stranger. He knows it. And he should apologize... But can't--it's just not his way. Fortunately for the both of them, his tirade is cut off with a strangled snarl of pain as the joint is reconnected.]

[Commentlog Time!]

[mnu-spreadslies.livejournal.com]

[Chris is surprised at the violent reaction and once the leg is back in its socket, he scuttles back slightly. Years of being subservient to keep himself out of trouble bubble up to the service, and he becomes immediately apologetic. He holds up his communicator for Ironhide to read.]