tagging this log constitutes consent to be hugged by a small purple autobot

[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

[quantumechanic]

Nautica was behind on current events; she had her own problems, though the new welds weren't obvious unless she had her back turned. Her altered state wasn't obvious either, though that wouldn't take long to change.

"Don't be ridiculous." She didn't have anywhere to be besides a hospital berth, but that was boring and she felt fine. Plus, she left a note, she was pretty sure. Nautica laid a hand on Tarn's arm, lightly, where she could see there wasn't any damage. "Being hurt is bad enough without being alone, too."

[sparkwhisperer]

Tarn remains silent as Nautica's hand rests on his arm, in a strangely gentle caress. He can't help the slight jerk that his arm automatically does in reaction.

"I promise you, Nautica, you don't want to be around me right now." He sighs turning his face away and digging his hand more firmly over the spot that his badge once rested. "I'm afraid I will be poor company at the moment."

[quantumechanic]

"So? If you're grumpy you'll just remind me of my best friend." Nautica was willing to inconvenience herself for people she liked. Tarn had made the mistake of not outright telling her to leave, so now he was stuck.

She hoisted herself onto the slab to sit next to his head, twisting enough in the process that the neatly-patched damage to her back and impellers was visible, if he happened to be looking.

[sparkwhisperer]

Turning to look back up at Nautica in shock as she slides onto the berth next to him, Tarn catches sight of repairs made to her back. Despite himself a stab of rage tears through him. His hand comes up from the empty spot on his chest to reach out slowly.

"What happened to you back?" He asks, a thumb running gently over a fresh weld. "Who did this?" He will make them regret it.

Stopping himself, he shakes off the thought. Nautica is an Autobot. He was going to do the same thing before he thought that he had found use in her. And good conversation, he supposes.

[quantumechanic]

Nautica outright giggled, and slapped playfully at his hand, an involuntary tremble running through her impeller housings at the touch. That tickled.

"It was Megatron...not either of the ones from our universe. The one with all the spikes." She patted Tarn on the shoulder, careful to miss any wounds. "It's okay, I'm fine."

[sparkwhisperer]

He quickly pulls his hand away as Nautica slaps at it. Before she clarifies which Megatron, Tarn stiffens preparing to fly into a rage. The one with the spikes?.

"Ah it seems we have something in common then. Minus the spikes and plus an Autobrand."

[quantumechanic]

It took Nautica a second to work through the indirect reference, then her optics got wide. "Megatron--our Megatron? Why would he--" Confused and dismayed, she broke off, looking again at the extensive damage scarring his frame. "Oh, Tarn."

The only thing keeping him from getting a hug was the awkward positioning. Someone really should have explained the DJD to her at some point.

[sparkwhisperer]

Tarn stares at her for a moment unsure what to do with the outward pouring of sympathy on Nautica's part

"Unfortunate as it is, we don't seem to see eye to eye any longer. He made is stance on the matter very clear. For now I will make myself scarce. At least until I can decide what is to become of me on this New Cybertron. I fear that the outcome may not fall in my favor."

Tarn's voice is soft and resigned, his optics dully shining behind his mask. A sudden wave of disgust strikes. He hates to be seen this way. Weak, and depressed, and utterly useless. He wishes Nautica would leave him to his thoughts. Just this once he wants to be alone.