Ratchet eyes the grip on his wrist, then transfers his gaze up to Megatron's face, looking annoyed but not overly worried. He's been threatened by patients much bigger and more unreasonable than Megaatron has been, but he does keep relatively still.

"War's over, when I'm from. And having my number of charges go from several million to about two hundred gave me the time I needed to make sure everyone did proper routine maintenance." Swerve. How he'd ducked so many shots and exams, Ratchet had no idea. You'd think a metallurgist would know better.

"Anyway, if you don't trust me not to inject you with acid, why the hell are you here in the first place? Don't tell me you're this frightened of needles, come on."