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!]

[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.]