Nautica (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
quantumechanic) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
robothell2015-02-17 06:42 pm
quantumechanic) wrote in robothell2015-02-17 06:42 pm
tagging this log constitutes consent to be hugged by a small purple autobot
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.
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.
ONE MILLION YEARS LATER
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
"I've heard Impactor called many things in his life, but classy is certainly a new one."
He stands to his feet and steps to the side, glancing back at his ex-co-worker,"Her name is Nautica, by the way. She may have been given a slightly elevated dosage of pain damper - if you couldn't guess."
no subject
She frowned as she grappled with the problem of figuring out why the name sounded familiar, but had to admit defeat, since she was wrestling with a hand tied behind her back, so to speak. "I swear I've heard that name before..."
no subject
"Yeah, she's definitely off her treads."
Although her comment catches his attention, 'brow' perking. He can't imagine there was ever a point that they'd met, even less that she'd have heard of him. Unless....ah, criminal records.
His head tilts up and to the side, as if rattling off his name during a school roll call.
"Fights a lot, avarage about twenty every two weeks. Work in the mines so I don't see topside much. Uh...sent a guy to the medibay cause arms apparently don't twist all the way back."
A pause.
"That's all I got."
no subject
"I was half convinced that the functionists would have scrambled to invent an 'Agitator' class to toss you in at the rate you were going."
Well, now that Megatron officially had a 'murder of a Senate guard' under his own belt, among other things, he'd be there to join him. He was just a bit of a late bloomer in the violent crime department.
no subject
She couldn't keep having this conversation while lying with her back to the other two participants, so she started to turn over, which was more of a production than it needed to be, especially given the complications introduced by the IV line.
"Classes are dumb," she informed Megatron, somewhat distracted by the fact she'd managed to catch the IV tubing on the plating of her forearm.
no subject
An eyebrow perks as he watches, before slowly starting to walk over. There's no change on his face, then again, Impactor wasn't really notorious for his expressions.
A hand reaches out, gripping her arm to keep it in place.
"You're gonna tear that out."
Megatron worked hard putting that in okay.