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[quantumechanic]

Who: Nautica and whoever is not going to start shit
Where: the clinic
When: after she gets hurled into a wall (thx tfp megatron) and before she's off the robot drugs
What: drugged-up Nautica is even friendlier than regular Nautica
Warnings: shameless fluff?

A docile patient, particularly in comparison to the other people around here likely to end up in the clinic, Nautica was curled up on her side in a berth, uncomplaining despite the fresh welds spidering silver across her back and impeller housings. The circuit dampers keeping those welds from bothering her might have been slightly miscalibrated--she was a small mech, and didn't have a tolerance built up from a lifetime of hospital stays over the course of an unending war. It was hardly the medics' fault they'd erred on the high side, especially considering the scavenged supplies they had to work with.

It did mean, however, that she was feeling no pain, either literally or in the colloquial sense, and for the moment was quite involved in watching her fingers as she repeatedly flexed them into claws or drummed them somewhat less than rhythmically on the edge of the slab. Hands were so complicated.

Comments

[briefcase]

That's fine enough Nautica didn't do any complaining. Brainstorm did the complaining for her, while simultaneously trying to pretend that he didn't care that she was hurt. Purely professional interest, you see-- it was hard to find another quantum mechanic around here.

Still, that didn't keep him from hovering nearby, clutching his briefcase as he watches her from across the medibay, occasionally harassing the medics to check her energon intake and questioning the quality of her repairs. Nautica was acting... funny. But he's no medic, so he wasn't sure why. He hated that.

Eventually, he stops hovering around like some giant robot vulture and leaves for a while, but when he comes back his arms are full of datapads, some in which fall from his arms before he can dump them on the berth with her. He squints at her, looking at her hands.

"Yes, they're hands. What are you doing?"

[quantumechanic]

"27 degrees of freedom, Brainstorm," Nautica said emphatically, as though he'd been there all along and was privy to whatever disjointed thoughts were working their unsteady way through her mind. Holding up her hand, she made exaggerated grabbing motions directed at his face but ending up somewhere around his Autobrand, the highest she could reach while he was standing.

"I counted." She was talking about the sum of different directions every joint in the hand and wrist could move. She'd gotten it right, too, despite the painkiller haze.

[briefcase]

"Um," Brainstorm says, unsure what to respond with. Instead he just juggles the datapads in his arms until he gets one free enough to pat her head. "Good job, Nautica. You did it."

Sitting at someone's berthside in a medibay wasn't something he did. That was Chromedome's area. He knew what to do well. Brainstorm? He was looking for some kind of distraction.

He sets the pads down, picking one up and flipping through it until he finds what he's looking for, holding it for Nautica to see. It doesn't even really cross his mind she's not exactly in the shape to discuss any science or things of importance.

"I found a place that may suffice for a new work-- Say, I could upgrade your hands. I could give you literal finger guns. Nobody would expect that!"

[quantumechanic]

Nautica didn't try to bat his hand away like anyone else would have in response to such a condescending gesture. Head-patting was fine. Everything was fine.

She didn't have time to focus on what Brainstorm was trying to show her before he was talking weapons again. "But I don't want finger guns," she said with a tolerant smile. Pantomiming a pistol with her hand, she pretended to shoot the datapad. "Pew."

[gimmicky]

After hearing the news, Trailbreaker had kept tabs on the medical bay, often asking First Aid how she was doing during her recovery. He wouldn't stay long, Brainstorm often frequented the berth and any potential awkward should probably be avoided. But this was one time that he felt he could stop by.

And he does. The frown fixated on his face slightly aleviates when he sees Nautica actually awake, although consciousness wasn't always a good thing. Still, take your blessings as they're given, and Trailbreaker was doing just that.

Walking over to the bed, he watches her as she seems fixated on her hands, giving a soft sigh as he looks at his own.

"Don't worry, there's supposed to be ten. I'm sure of it."

A soft grin, saying that with as much optimism as he can muster. Always the cheerleader, aren't you.

[quantumechanic]

Nautica didn't notice him until he spoke, because, well. Hands. She had a lot of staring at them to do.

"Trailcutter!" She instantly forgot her scrutiny of her fingers, because Trailcutter was a lot better. If her optics weren't entirely focused as she looked up at him, at least the bright smile was in perfect working order. "Hi."

[gimmicky]

It's hard not to smile back when she's doing that, and it even flusters him a bit. Drugs or not, she's still a pickmeup from his own self esteem issues.

"Hey. I uh..didn't wanna bother you too much. Thought I'd just come to see how you were doing."

A hand reaches up, rubbing the back of his head while the other gestures out.

"So...how're you doing? I guess that's...an obvious question now."

[planate]

They may have only spoken once, but it was enough for Pipes to tell Nautica was Good People. People he immediately wanted to visit after hearing what had happened through the pipeline (ha). He was upset, of course, but ultimately, Nautica had survived and that was the important thing.

Luckily, he'd chosen a day to visit Nautica where the medibay was relatively empty and she was awake. Double luck! Pipes waves at her cautiously.

[quantumechanic]

Nautica noticed a hand motion that wasn't hers, and raised her helm to see Pipes waving at her. She waved back. Hi, Pipes!

[planate]

Unaware Natuica is currently ripped to the robot tits on robot morphine, Pipes is incredibly delighted that she's conscious and seemingly okay. Not that his reaction would be any different if he did know, mind.

He scampers over, like the adorable little shit he is.

"How're you feeling?"

[rodders]

Rodimus hasn't actually left the clinic for any significant length of time after he returned from watching Megatron and Tarn beat the shit out of each other - he's stayed close to Drift's side for most of it, sometimes literally when Ratchet couldn't shoo him out of the clinic at night. But he does, occasionally, tear himself away from the other bot to swing over to where Nautica is still recovering.

He does kind of squint at whatever she's doing with her hand, because what. "You should find someone other than Ratchet to take a look at it. He looks like he's going to explode. That or strangle the next injured mech who walks in here." Assuming something in her hand is broken, obviously.

[quantumechanic]

"Have you ever really looked at your hands, Rodimus?" She held up one of hers, palm out and fingers splayed like someone making the 'stop' gesture. There did not appear to be anything wrong with the hand in question. "So many points of articulation. Hands are great."

[rodders]

"Once or twice." When he carved the numbers into his palm to remember his failures, yep, he sure did spend a lot of time staring at his hands. Not something he cares to discuss with Nautica, however, and so he is gently moving on from that topic as quickly and as gracefully as he's capable of.

"Yeah, and everyone's got 'em. You've had them for a few million years." So why are you staring at them like you've just seen them, huh? Is this what people who like magic do on their off days? People who aren't Brainstorm.

[luckyfaceplate]

Optimus had only just gotten back, and his original intent was to see Ratchet. With...things the way they were (everyone was pretty scattered, and considering what the planet had told him, that was worrying), he trusted Ratchet to be the most honest with him on what exactly went on. Lo and behold, when he walks in, he sees...quite a number of people in the medical bay. Okay...that certainly wasn't a good sign.

"You've been busy." Whether or not that was to the patients themselves or Ratchet was unclear. And probably for the best. His eyes scan, seeing familiar and relatively new faces....before resting on Nautica.

He knew that Nautica's forte wasn't exactly fighting, so he can assume that's how the injury happened. Not exactly what he wanted for an ambassador of Caminus, that's for sure. He strides over, keeping himself as professional as possible as he looks at her lying on the bed, staring at her fingers.

...Okay. Where does he go from here.

"It seems you hit some bad luck. Or rather, bad luck hit you."

SMALL TALK. HE'S TRYING.

[quantumechanic]

Nautica waggled her fingers at Optimus in a sloppy wave. At the best of times, it wasn't a sure bet she'd notice someone feeling awkward. She certainly wasn't going to pick up on it now.

"It depends on your frame of reference," she said, sounding for a moment a lot like Perceptor, "but setting the wall as the static frame and me as the moving body makes the math a lot easier."

More things she wasn't going to pick up on: other people's jokes.

[luckyfaceplate]

Maybe that was for the best. He's not even all that funny a jokester. He'll consider that the world doing him a favor as he watches her, looking at that hand that waved to him.

...

His own hand gently reaches out, taking her own and studying it. Just how unscathed from battle it was compared to his own. His eyes soften slightly, secretly glad for that. If there's one thing he didn't want in this universe, it was Nautica having to endure those years.

"Ratchet and the medical staff are reliable. They'll take care of you. But that also means you need to relax your mind as well."

Softly, aggressively dadding and you can't stop him.

[towardspeace]

Megatron looks surprised, at first, to see her here, and then stern – not angry per se, but it's the look of someone who anticipates having to give someone a talking-to over what he's being presented with. He's still bearing the marks of his own run-in with Tarn, but the worst of it's been repaired by now; he just looks a little rough around the edges. No painkillers for him, though.

"Nautica." He looks down at her, frowning. "What happened?"

[quantumechanic]

For once, it wasn't Tarn's fault.

"Hi, Captain!" Granted, absurd good cheer was normal for Nautica, but given the circumstances, it didn't take Nightbeat to figure out that powerful painkillers were involved. She propped herself up on one elbow and waved at him. Then she remembered he'd asked a question, though it took her a second to also remember what that question had been.

"I got thrown into a wall." Not really a useful status report, but she was trying.

[towardspeace]

Good grief, he manages not to say, with no small amount of effort.

"I see." He is really, really glad that he just put Tarn in the hospital. He pauses thoughtfully. "And what... led to you being thrown into a wall?"

ONE MILLION YEARS LATER

[aminerproblem]

"Nautica?"

Oh, this was unfortunate. Megatron makes a mental note of mixing in a little less circuit damper in her liquid supply when these are finished processing through Nautica's system.

"I'm going to check your grafts, okay?" He wasn't entirely sure if she was attentive enough to understand, but it didn't hurt to let a patient be aware. He lowers himself to one knee, looking through the silvery lines on her impeller housings. He gently adjusts them, observing how the joints against her back flexed with the silver filling.

He glances back at Impactor,"You can get closer if you want."

To say he'd been elated to find his old friend would be a massive understatement. It was unfortunate that they were stuck in this city, but there were few other people he'd rather go through this situation with.

He was sure Impactor wouldn't be interested in the same work as he was, but if he could find some way for them to share the same workspace. Well, Megatron wouldn't be opposed.

[quantumechanic]

"Itchy," Nautica protested as Megatron put soft stresses on welds her self-repair hadn't fully integrated yet, causing twinges along the seams that should have been painful, but thanks to the dampers, merely felt very odd. She let Megatron do his exam with no more interference than sotto voce grumbling.

Right up until she noticed Impactor's reflection in a diagnostic screen and all bets were off as she pushed herself up on an elbow and twisted awkwardly to look at him over one shoulder, or as much of him as she could see past Megatron. She might connect Impactor's name to the Wreckers once they were introduced, but for the moment he was just a new person...one with excellent fashion sense.

"Megatron," she stage-whispered, "who's your friend with the classy paint job?" Nautica winked at Impactor and pointed an approving finger-gun. Hey.

[lethalimpact]

This was certainly a rapid-fire, confusing chain of events. Impactor had woken up, stumbled around for awhile in confusion on why there wasn't vanguard energon on his hands (to his disappointment), only to find Megatron. Megatron claiming to be a medical assistant. He won't even get into how many things are wrong with that considering their world. Thankfully, he wasn't one to ask questions right off the bat, and kept close to his friend as he was pulled along.

This includes when they actually get back into the medical bay. He shadows the other, brow perked at the manner of patients that were in here, the fact that he was allowed to walk around freely, and...well, Megatron having other's lives in his hands instead of mineral.

He stands there, looking at his drill--Megatron's look somewhat tells him he should save that for later--real quick before Nautica's voice catches his attention. Oh...yeah, patients speak. But what comes out of her mouth is...interesting. And for a moment, he looks around wondering what higher up had just come in.

The finger guns...well, they're more obvious.

A groan escapes at first, but...this is for Megatron. And he's not going to ruin this for his friend. "Impactor." That was good enough, short and sweet, gets the information across. "We work--ed in the mines together." There's a few more glances at his paint job, though, mostly cause there...maybe be some energon still splattered on it.

FOR HER GOOD BUDDY TARN

[quantumechanic]

After a while, Nautica decided it was time to go find her wrench. She couldn't get any work done without it (the fact that she couldn't get any work done with it in her current state did not occur to her) and anyway, she liked having it around.

She reached up and turned off the monitors so they wouldn't start beeping when her life signs disappeared from the slab, disconnected her IV, pulled the needle out, and set it neatly on a tray next to her berth. Since she didn't want anyone to worry, she also left a datapad with a note. Unfortunately for the actual usefulness of said note, it read in its entirety "Be right back!" with a smiley face and a drawing of her wrench.

Responsibilities thus discharged, Nautica headed out into the city, rather more unsteadily than was reassuring, but she stayed vertical enough. Her navigational skills were suffering more than her motor control, however, and she managed to head in almost entirely the wrong direction. Eventually making her way to the least-safe location possible for someone wearing an Autobrand, she stuck her head into the door of the Decepticon stronghold where Tarn was nursing his wounds and his grievances.

"Hello? Anyone home?" She didn't wait for an answer before continuing into the building.

Re: FOR HER GOOD BUDDY TARN

[sparkwhisperer]

Tarn distantly hears a voice calling as he lays on the berth deeply in shock with his hand covering the bare patch of plating on his chest. He doesn't respond, instead choosing to close his eyes and turn his face away from the noise of approaching footsteps.

He hopes whoever it is will leave him to his own dark thoughts. He isn't particularly in the mood for entertaining anyone. Especially someone with a voice that he doesn't recognize immediately. With the shame of having his faction stripped away so very fresh he isn't sure that he can think of anyone who's company he could handle at the moment. Not even a member of his own lost team. Unfortunately for him, Megatron had left the door to his hab suite open.

[quantumechanic]

No such luck, buddy. Nautica poked around the common area briefly, finding no sign of her wrench (Spinister's was vastly inferior, gosh) before starting on the connecting rooms. Tarn's was the first she tried, and she stopped short in the doorway, horrified by his wounds. What could even do that to a mech his size and build?

"Tarn? Oh Prima, what happened to you?" Her wrench could wait. This was awful. Nautica almost ran up to the berth. She was either the best actor Caminus had ever produced, or genuinely distraught.