"We were only supposed to be gone for ten minutes," Ratchet huffs. "And, they're not my medical team, not here. Red Alert set up this clinic, not me."

Ratchet eases under Optimus' broad, steady palm, though, watching what little is visible of his face.

"Looking out for him, are you?" Ratchet asks, one corner of his mouth quirking up. "Conscientious of you."