[ti]Ep 3[/ti]Double Dose [Knockout, Open]

[Flatline]

Each move of the helm, each twist... Flatline watched with pointed focus, keeping tabs on how the cables flexed and adapted to the new positions. While they were near the apparatus for their voice, that was normal, and it didn't breach too close to damage with a moderate amount of tolerance in case outside force was applied. Of course, a punch to the throat was another story, yet that would be an issue for all, and not just those that had underwent the horrific procedure these two had endured. While this was of no concern, as Switch responded to him he noted a buzzing noise.

Zeroing down in his focus, Flatline steadied their helm, his fingers still curled behind it to cradle and help support while he observed. It would not only offer some relief, it helped maintain a steady position. He tried to pick apart if the buzzing was some sort of component trying to move, or if it was a frayed wire he could try to focus in on once he heard again... Different issues could have such similar sounds, yet... if he truly focused perhaps there could be a clue, some little twitch of the noise to guide in a way.

A buzz, a spark, the more Switch spoke the more apparent what the issue was. It seemed there was a frayed line, or one that was not the proper makeup to handle the power of charge that was going through it. It could even be as simple as a loose connector, or a tiny tear, yet he didn't have a chance to really LOOK too hard before a shocking jolt that was far larger than the tiny sparks before arched the short distance to his thumb.

Flatline let out a snorted lurch, his teeth gritting as eyes widened in alarm. The fingers that had been looped underneath Switch's neck to support and cradle, instantly wrenched up and away with his hands to avoid another charged strike from whatever had got him. While it would never be his intent to cause an injury to a patient on his medical slab, there was a faint chance that the underside of his fingers could scrape the surface of the thinner neck metals as his grip pulled before fully unlooping. Whatever the case, he pulled away, hands held up and out slightly with fingers bared to flex and try to access the 'damage'.

It wasn't a bad shock in the slightest, it really wasn't much of anything all things considered. If he knew it was coming, he likely could have tightened his grip slightly and bore through it without risking scratching the other Cybertronian(s) in the process. That said, the surprise of it is what got him, more the alarm and unexpected jolt causing a far more wrenching motion than was truly needed. He came to terms with the fact his hands weren't numbed or burnt in any way after a second, slender fingers flexing a bit before his attention snapped down to glare at the twins.

Swan was the first to speak, offering an apology. Flatline had expected to have it be an apology of some kind for the small electrical incident, yet instead it was an apology for the earlier conduct? He didn't CARE about that right then; he had moved past it somewhat once Swan shut their nonexistent trap. He wanted a sorry for the other concern, even if it wasn't something that could be helped in the slightest, and for the fact it wasn't Swan's voice box to begin with. Logic didn’t play a role however, Flatline was annoyed.

"Long as you learned."

Bitter clipped words, humoring just enough so they didn’t pry and prod with more babble. With this, Flatline snapped his hands down harshly to shake off any buzz that may linger that he could no longer actively feel, before he grabbed onto a tool from his tray on their other side. It looked to be needle nose pliers of some kind that had a sleeve over its handle so that the metal piece couldn’t act as a one-way road to shock him again. With this in hand, he glared down at the twins.

"Kick your legs or something. Expel energy."

Maybe if they just had a momentary rage fake-seizure to bleed out whatever charge was there; he could have a longer worktime further aided by the plier trick.

"A loose, improper, or damaged wire seems to be the source. I will need to fish it out to evaluate."

A flat statement.

"I do not want to be shocked again. Warn me if the charge builds."

There was a borderline threat between his words.

[Deleted]

Where one medic was shocked, the other was stunned. Switchfoot was already pulling their helm back just as Flatline was retreating. Had they not reacted, they might have avoided incident with the mech’s claws. But that was not the case, Switch’s vocoder issued a hiss in response. Automatically, they brought their remaining claw to the affected site, assessing what little they could. And very little was found.

Knee jerk reaction aside, both twins raised their helms to gauge their practitioner’s current state of being. Swan was simply excited for the further chaos their presence brought. Switch was actually concerned, worried that they may have unintentionally caused serious harm to Flatline. Their panic stemmed more from the desire to avoid further trouble with their superiors- genuine care was a rare trait and not felt freely.

A quick glance over to check the other medic for injury. For anything of immediate concern. All they got back was a glare- a good sign with negative connotations. So in other words, things were perfectly well. Well enough for Flatline to display annoyance, and quite possibly anger as well.

Switchfoot was preparing themselves to issue one hell of an apology. Swansong beat them to it. A rare string of words pouring forth from them. Very rarely did apologies cause irritation in their twin, but Swan had a certain talent for irking them. “Oh yes, a lesson was learned!” An upbeat chime, followed by them settling back into a polite’ silence. On the bright side, Swansong was attempting to be decent.

It was suspicious.

Another attempt made to speak up, only to falter under the command to move. That movement took form in bicycle kicks- an awkward thing given the bends of their legs. To aid in the dispelling of energy the pair also flexed their toes. While this was not among the strangest things the pair had done to level their systems, it wasn’t particularly dignifying.

Between the kicks, Switchfoot found the opportunity to speak. “--t inten-iona-.” It was true. Switch found no joy in going out of their way to hurt, even if their past works suggested otherwise. If anything, the jolt provided surprise for them as well. It was a rare occurrence that their biomechanical failings affected an outsider. “-ame as - -hock -o us -swell.” A poor choice of words; it had Switch tensing their audials close to their helm.

It also prompted a sharp exvent from Swan, who happened to love puns. And if they arose in less than pleasant scenarios? All the better. Still they did not break their silence. They were trying to behave after all.

After issuing a sidelong glance to their counterpart, Switchfoot let them be. “-pologie-. Acc-dent-l.” The kicking had died down after a sufficient amount of movement. Still they kept their toe claws moving- tensing and releasing, helping to prolong. Flatline’s hypothesis prompted a careful nod. Poor wires seemed a likely, if not a frustrating plausibility. Another more steady nod, meant to address the edged request. While the initial shock did come as a surprise, Switchfoot knew they would have to pay even closer attention to their systems to avoid further incidents. At least Flatline had prepped himself with insulated instruments.

The joint frame settled back down onto the slab for what was essentially the third time that evening.

[Flatline]

Flatline's lower eye twitched a bit when one of the twins decided to reach their remaining hand up to grasp at the exposed neck. If he hadn't been shaking his arms down and dispersing the feeling from the shock, he would have straight up grabbed the hand and tried to slam it onto the counter. While they didn't appear to be caked in dirt or anything, it was still exposed internals, and if he had to get out needle hooks to start scraping and picking through all the seams, or flushing it out, he would be rather uppity and not thrilled. Alas, he couldn’t react fast enough for it to matter, his upper lip twitching some to flash a few gnarled teeth.

A low grumble... Flatline brushed aside Swan's upbeat reply, knowing already to abandon a lot of their input as the rabble of an over energetic child. They did not get off to a good first step with him, and as such he zeroed back in upon Switch, who was a good bit more mature it seemed and was the actual subject of concern this day. There was damage that needed to be tended to, and now that he realized it was sourced from exposed metals from a poor connector or sheath over wires, he knew where to move next.

He also realized them trying to SPEAK did not help either.

Yet Switch continued to do so.

A pun laden apology, a pop of a laugh... while Switch's words had not been intentional in that way, the droned neutrality made it so that Flatline had to interoperate fluctuation and tones on his own. Given the delivery and Swan's response, he took it as a mocking sort of statement. A joke.

Flatline was a professional. He did his job well and he learned back on Cybertron how to bite his tongue and keep to work. He knew HOW to be a good medical worker, to assure and help an individual through a surgery or procedure that may make them uncomfortable. However, the war made him a bit jaded at times, and his tolerance levels went down when he was dealing with rough and tumble brawlers that got hit in the head a few too many times. Polite didn't always work, and seeing Switch continue to speak when they now had to know that was the issue...?

"Shut your m-"

A halt lurch.

"Er... shut up!"

Sigh...

"Speaking is the trigger, and you may break it more by jabbering."

Red eyes watched as the twins tried to disperse energy, eventually settling down as he took as confirmation of being ready. As such, he stepped forward again, his left hand reaching up to curl his fingers beneath Switch's neck once more. As with the previous time, he supported them, making it so that they could relax more and so that he could control angle and how steady it may have been. His curved red thumb pulled up and pressed on the underside of the camera, to push up and angle their head away. With the opened throat mechanics more visible, he reached his right hand forward to carefully thread the needle nose plyers down the side of the voice box.

A little bit of angling, a little bit of pressure from the side of the plyers to ease components aside... Flatline eventually snagged the culprit, gently teasing it up and out a bit. This exposed the wire that connected the voice system itself to the slot, a simple installation joint to bridge from there to the main channel and processor. The sheathing on the wire was flimsy at best, going cheap for a cheap system, which meant that at some point it got rubbed wrong possibly from an impact or a tweak of the neck. Instead of taking it, the thin coating simply tore.

A soft tsk, a disappointed sound in the crap-ass workmanship... Flatline sat the tool down.

"Don't touch your neck again."

Decisive, sharp, he pointed between the two with a flick of his finger before he moved and went to retrieve an appropriate replacement. He would start rooting around the different options, grumbling in dismay as some were kinked badly from the crash. He didn't even know how that was possible... what had squished the roll, but here it was. Whatever the case he grabbed hold of a copper wire with a heavier sleeve, a stiffer material that should stay where put.

"I am going to have to disconnect the vocoder momentarily."

[Deleted]

Poor choosings of words seemed to be running just a little too rampant in the medbay. First an unfortunate pun from one, and then a slip in the other’s vocabulary. It wasn’t even a full slip up, more like a tumble. Still, even with bruised tempers, the twin’s did not miss that nearly unspoken syllable in the first snap. Of course Flatline continued to prove his decency by changing course and going with the more universal term of telling one to keep quiet.

Both helms made no sound. Swansong glanced from twin to practitioner, curious as to how things might just play out. As made evident by their counterpart’s minimal reaction, it was to be a tame interaction. Swan lowered their helm back onto the slab, focusing their attention on the stone ceiling; it was only slightly more boring than the other two.

Switchfoot merely narrowed the shutters in their optic, darkening the lense. Rather than make a noise with their vocoder and further ruin both the mood and the part, Switch let a low, disparaging hum rumble from somewhere in their chest. It was a practiced sound, one they had learned to make when they found their limited voice box could not replicate such a thing.

While it better served one’s needs, it annoyed the other. They could feel that rumble, no choice about it because they shared systems. Swansong felt discomfort in how that noise seemed to jostle some internal structure that Switch had some fancy term for. The sensation reminded them of that one time so long ago when a small virus ran rampant in their sorority. That unwanted memory brought on a more forceful kick to their foot- nothing too jarring. Swan didn’t want to get chastised again for interfering with the procedure.

With Flatline wasting no time in starting the operation up again, Switchfoot attempted to relax as best they could in the doctor’s hold. Any pain they could have felt under Flatline’s ministrations didn’t register- Switch saw to that over the many millenia. Still, they could feel the pressure, the manipulation of their neck. It was all commonplace. A sure thing.

It didn’t mean Switchfoot could find comfort in it. ‘You are quiet. Say something?’ An internal distraction, a chance to ignore the physical.

‘No. I’m busy.’

‘With what?’ There was no response. Switch folded their audial fins back. That was a bust to say the least. The doctor was speaking again, giving the pair a preemptive scolding. Under the order of silence, and the understanding that moving their helm for the time being was a no go, Switchfoot rumbled in a lighter more affirmative pitch. It wasn’t like they could offer a thumbs up.

‘Stop that noise.’ A sharp internal chide mixed with a brief twitch in their otherwise smooth foot work. “No touching. Got it.” An automatic repetition. Swansong wanted to question why they were addressed under the same order, but their claws were technically Switch’s and vice versa. Pointing at both of them doubly prohibited any neck touching activities.

Following that order was the easier task. Learning to accept that they were going to be temporarily muted was a harder ask. It meant letting Swansong off their metaphorical leash. But Swan was settling into the role of being well behaved, that had to act as some sort of buffer. At least Switchfoot hoped so. Rather than make any sign of acknowledgement of the doctor’s statement, the joint frame performed a few more bicycle kicks while he searched for parts. The silence should be answer enough- something resigned to what was to happen next.

[Flatline]

At the following quiet after Swan's affirmative, Flatline was rather pleased, letting his irritation smooth out some. It was best to cool down and get a more level mindset so he could work with care and accurate movements, there was nothing to gain by fiddling around with soldering and electrical when irritated at an unruly patient. Because of this he filtered in a slow ventilation while collecting the next set of supplies, the quill like vent covers relaxing down to a more neutral position.

Grasping hold of wire strippers and a couple shrink sleeves, Flatline also grabbed a modest heat gun that had seen better days. A crack ran up its side from a hard impact, the protective shell split a bit out of line. The fact Flatline retrieved it meant it more likely than not still functioned well enough, but that did not mean it particularly spoke of good quality. They worked with what they had however, the black and red mech making his way back over with his borderline signature limp.

Placing the tools down, a loping arm was extended once again, a second red panel popping away from his mass. Once the tool was plucked out, it left the same hole missing from his forearm as the pliers he had given the twins, only this component had held a multi purpose device with two ends that could be used as a solder, or as a welder. Because of this, Flatline used the curved back of his pointer to press and snap the welding portion of the device back, permitting the solder tool to fully extend and pop into place. With one more flick of a switch, it would began to gently heat up, placed down next to the others.

Now that his supplies were laid out neatly beside Switch's helm, Flatline would move back into action, picking up the wire strippers.

With little preamble, no real warning, and no 'Are you sure you want to do this?' Flatline set to work, clipping the tool down onto the exposed wire to snap it clean off as close to the back connector to the middle channel as possible with a click, while he supported the piece closest the vocoder with the pliers so it didn’t pull and cause discomfort. Flatline then stripped the frayed coating off of the wire, exposing the copper filaments. It went without saying that attempting to speak now would be futile and essentially worthless, doing nothing but risking shock to themselves and Flatline once again. He seemed to want to work swiftly though, knowing how uncomfortable it likely was.

It should not hurt. It really shouldn’t. He avoided protoform and Energon lines with a careful touch, and used the pliers to support the wire so he didn’t wrench or pull anything. At most it should just be a pressure, a hollow numbness as power was cut off from the component. It likely wouldn't last long at the pace Flatline moved however, trimming the bad area of wire off from the voice box itself a second later only to lift it away.

Using the old to measure the new, Flatline trimmed the new piece accordingly and stripped each end to accommodate attaching. He then slipped a single wire sleeve into its middle, before grasping the two pieces in the pliers and placing them within.

"Do. Not. Speak."

A low growled warning, a demand that didn’t truly need to be said... and yet he did, as he then reached within and carefully used his thumb and forefinger to start to twist the copper filaments together at the channel that lead back into the central column. If Switch decided to pipe up, or... TRY to pipe up given things were still detached, then Flatline would get another good shock.