[ti]Ep 3[/ti]Interior Design [Carbine, Patch, Ratchet, Thunder]
Jan 24, 2020 20:28:50 GMT -5
Post by Ratchet on Jan 24, 2020 20:28:50 GMT -5
Ratchet said nothing as Patch motioned for him to be quiet.
It wasn’t a rude reply, it wasn’t intentionally arrogant.
It did, however, irritate him a great deal. He had no idea who she was talking to, but the simple fact was she should be responding to him first, and whoever else she was talking to second, unless it were Optimus speaking. Ratchet needed to know the situation as soon as possible, especially if Carbine were a potential threat.
He also caught the huff she gave in reply to whoever had been speaking to her. Not Optimus, then.
Running his optics over Windshield, Ratchet quickly assessed the situation a second time. He watched as Windshield’s vitals started to settle. The screaming stress that tore through his circuits and demanded relief eased back, the sparkpulse slowing it’s tempo. All good signs. While, from what he could see, Windshield’s damage was extremely bad, it could be triaged back to a two. Life threatening through shock and infection if not treated soon, but not instantly. Once stabilized, he could wait a little while. He would best be moved back to the medibay and treated there.
Meanwhile, there was possibly a second victim.
Ratchet’s reply to Patch was brief.
“Negative. Windshield is your priority. I’ll see to Carbine. If he starts throwing fists, I’m better able to deal with it.”
Ratchet wanted Patch to continue seeing to Windshield as she had been the one to start first aid. First on the scene, she would have a more intimate knowledge of any other damage the mech might have sustained that wouldn’t show up here and now. His second reasoning was as simple as the fact that he was bigger and sturdier than Patch. Pound for pound, Ratchet would have an easier time of attempting to subdue Carbine than Patch would.
Ratchet was also familiar with Carbine’s unique condition. While he hadn’t been told just how badly Carbine had been “injured” at the hands of the so called “doctors” in G-1, he had seen with his own optics and audio receptors some of what happened when Carbine became stressed or overly excited.
Ratchet was also familiar with just how much Carbine distrusted doctors, and why, and had no idea how much of his personal background Patch knew. That was another reason he felt he should be the one to face any flying fists should the black and while mech panic and lash out.
Pushing himself up from the ground, Ratchet now turned his attention to Carbine.
The other mech was still hunched over, arms around himself. Possibly in his own world of misery. And possibly highly aggressive and violent.
He was still a patient. And one of Ratchet’s Autobots.
He put away any tools he was carrying, so he could approach “unarmed”. From here on, Ratchet’s entire demeanour changed.
As he walked towards Carbine, he made sure his footsteps didn’t fall heavily, nor was he trying to be quiet. Arms hanging loosely, and not tense, hands open and relaxed instead of nervous fists. Ratchet was exuding an aura of “just another day”, letting his own stress and anxiety vanish.
He approached from a straight angle, so that Carbine could see him coming if he flicked his optics his way, and wouldn’t seem to suddenly appear at his side.
Attempting not to get too close and loom over the mech, Ratchet stopped just short of being right next to Carbine, and went down on one knee beside him, planting both hands on his other knee, letting his hands remain in sight, while not reaching towards Carbine, not yet.
When he spoke, he attempted to make his voice as calm and less harsh than normal, and completely smoothed any stress from his own face. Years of working around explosive patients had taught the old doctor a few tricks or two.
“Carbine?” Ratchet spoke softly, “Are you hurt? Can you hear me?”
It wasn’t a rude reply, it wasn’t intentionally arrogant.
It did, however, irritate him a great deal. He had no idea who she was talking to, but the simple fact was she should be responding to him first, and whoever else she was talking to second, unless it were Optimus speaking. Ratchet needed to know the situation as soon as possible, especially if Carbine were a potential threat.
He also caught the huff she gave in reply to whoever had been speaking to her. Not Optimus, then.
Running his optics over Windshield, Ratchet quickly assessed the situation a second time. He watched as Windshield’s vitals started to settle. The screaming stress that tore through his circuits and demanded relief eased back, the sparkpulse slowing it’s tempo. All good signs. While, from what he could see, Windshield’s damage was extremely bad, it could be triaged back to a two. Life threatening through shock and infection if not treated soon, but not instantly. Once stabilized, he could wait a little while. He would best be moved back to the medibay and treated there.
Meanwhile, there was possibly a second victim.
Ratchet’s reply to Patch was brief.
“Negative. Windshield is your priority. I’ll see to Carbine. If he starts throwing fists, I’m better able to deal with it.”
Ratchet wanted Patch to continue seeing to Windshield as she had been the one to start first aid. First on the scene, she would have a more intimate knowledge of any other damage the mech might have sustained that wouldn’t show up here and now. His second reasoning was as simple as the fact that he was bigger and sturdier than Patch. Pound for pound, Ratchet would have an easier time of attempting to subdue Carbine than Patch would.
Ratchet was also familiar with Carbine’s unique condition. While he hadn’t been told just how badly Carbine had been “injured” at the hands of the so called “doctors” in G-1, he had seen with his own optics and audio receptors some of what happened when Carbine became stressed or overly excited.
Ratchet was also familiar with just how much Carbine distrusted doctors, and why, and had no idea how much of his personal background Patch knew. That was another reason he felt he should be the one to face any flying fists should the black and while mech panic and lash out.
Pushing himself up from the ground, Ratchet now turned his attention to Carbine.
The other mech was still hunched over, arms around himself. Possibly in his own world of misery. And possibly highly aggressive and violent.
He was still a patient. And one of Ratchet’s Autobots.
He put away any tools he was carrying, so he could approach “unarmed”. From here on, Ratchet’s entire demeanour changed.
As he walked towards Carbine, he made sure his footsteps didn’t fall heavily, nor was he trying to be quiet. Arms hanging loosely, and not tense, hands open and relaxed instead of nervous fists. Ratchet was exuding an aura of “just another day”, letting his own stress and anxiety vanish.
He approached from a straight angle, so that Carbine could see him coming if he flicked his optics his way, and wouldn’t seem to suddenly appear at his side.
Attempting not to get too close and loom over the mech, Ratchet stopped just short of being right next to Carbine, and went down on one knee beside him, planting both hands on his other knee, letting his hands remain in sight, while not reaching towards Carbine, not yet.
When he spoke, he attempted to make his voice as calm and less harsh than normal, and completely smoothed any stress from his own face. Years of working around explosive patients had taught the old doctor a few tricks or two.
“Carbine?” Ratchet spoke softly, “Are you hurt? Can you hear me?”