(no subject)

[triggerhappycopter]

Who: Ratchet and Spinister
Where: Clinic!
When: After Tarn hunts down Brainstorm
What: HELLO FRIEND
Warnings: Personal space invasion



There's a presence in the clinic.

An almost... annoyed feeling presence?

Honestly, it's just Spinister scarfing down a cube of medical grade energon and looking intensely dusty and unhappy about life. He's also somehow managed to cram his stupidly huge self under the equipment cleaning bench.

Don't ask.

Comments

[triggerhappycopter]

"Don't go out in Cybertronian dust storms," Spinister mutters. "Your joints are gonna hate you for it."

It hadn't been bad initially, and he'd thought he'd been lucky and gotten it all out after a good couple of washes but nope. Turns out he'd gotten more grit in his joints than he'd thought from that storm and it'd been rubbing through the protective coating on his joints.

"You wouldn't happen to have duct tape wouldja?" he mumbles into his cube.

[asafepairofhands]

"I can see if I can clear your joints out a bit, if you want, prevent more damage."

Ratchet stops, considering, then turns to actually look at Spin, hoping it won't scare him off. He leans into his crutches and hums thoughtfully.

"Could be. I can look. What do you need it for?"

[triggerhappycopter]

"I can clear them out myself," comes the grumbled reply. "... Soon as I can move again."

... 'Soon' might be a bit optimistic here. His hands were fine because that was the one thing Spinister always kept obsessively well maintained. Every other joint hammered his processors with pain signals if he so much as twitched though. Ratchet couldn't have scared him off even if the heli had wanted to move.

"I need something to keep the tarp in place around my joints," Spinister says, taking another sip. "Don't worry, it's not helping Tarn. He hates tape residue."