[ti]Ep 3[/ti]CON-fidentiality (Knock Out, Open)

[Starkrieger]

Episode 3: Week 3 | Day 6 - Evening 
Directly after Brawler Season 

---

It was just a doorway.   Krieg’s optics were narrowed as he lingered outside the medbay, wings drawn tightly back.  He’d still be in the washracks, if his shoulder would stop pitching a fit from the harmless solvent stream.   Primus, he'd planned to get it seen to, but he wasn’t prancing through the halls covered in energon like some filthy raving idiot, least of all on a trip to see Knock Out.

Hopefully Knock Out.

Could wait till morning if it was that other one?

A resounding ‘no’ issued from the angry pulsing of his shoulder joint, dislocated to the point that his arm hung useless at his side.  Besides that, the flier was confident he was presentable.  He hadn't found dents and did his best to work out paint transfers due to his little 'engagement' earlier.  There'd been that obnoxious yellow left at his hip, easy enough to deal with... What about his back? Or the overdramatic limb... Krieg couldn't get a proper look to see if bright pink marred it.  Given he was mostly black and white?  Any fleck of color from his opponent would stand in stark contrast to what belonged there.  Well, there was nothing for it.

Straightening his chassis, the Seeker let himself in.  As if he was fooling anyone,  Krieg might very well be able to exercise control in general, but coming to the medbay? His wings betrayed him in an instant.  Flaring wide, they angled, harsh, darting movements as his optics scanned the layout, assessing precisely who was where before crossing over the threshold.  Hardly an unusual response, Krieg typically entered Knock Out's domain expecting the unmaker to fall from the ceiling, and the claustrophobic nightmare that was Blackridge, sure as slag didn’t help. His field was chaotic, thickly charged and obviously the last thing on his mind, by the way it was running rampant.

Stepping in shifted the dynamic, wings dipped as they pulled back again. Starkrieger's field retracted as he slipped in, residual aggressive impulses subduing. He hated this room, and everything about being in it…

The Scanners
Patient restraints and sensor numbing anesthetics.
Sharp medical tools and sparking welding torches.
The fragging scanners.

And yet, he respected its function, and the mech that ran it.

Why couldn’t Flux have been the aggressor? It was easier to online already inside, where he’d had no choice and the worst was behind him. No, it had to be the little one, leaving him fully conscious, granting his processor free rein to imagine what could...and had happened in such places.

Though, Cintra would probably be offended to know that he was more intimidated by an exam than her fury; imagining her frustration was amusing, a small silver lining he could savor.

Regardless, it wouldn’t really matter who was present, he was calming down. He always calmed down… It was fine, he was fine.

[Flatline]

That other one was the one to greet Starkrieger.

Across the way at a rickety work table that seemed to be held up by a wish and a dream, Flatline sat with an array of supplies in front of him sprawled out. Wrenches and screwdrivers, pliers and other manual tools... They were neatly lined up side by side in organized rows, two sections with a void that sat in between which is where a bottle of some kind rested. Those on the left appeared sleek and polished with a borderline sheen, nicely restored, while those on the right seemed worn and dingy with scuffs. They may be clean enough to function without ill effects to the individual they'd be used on, yet it wasn't a good showing and some work and time could make all the difference.

It was also a 'grunt chore' which seemed to often fall upon him and Breakdown.

A pair of pliers were dismantled in the centermost point before the bottle, one half held within the black and red medic's hands. A washcloth of sorts was draped over the curve of his thumb, using it to rub at the tool's handle gently, trying to get the gritty cleaning agent into the surface to lightly polish it. This movement stopped the moment Starkrieger strode in as if he owned the place, though he did not set down the rag and tool.

Red eyes trailed across the other mech, his gaze moving from ped to helm with a judgmental look. There was no overt flash of blue, this mech wasn't missing a part of their frame, nor had any slashes or rips. His limbs were not crooked in unnatural angles as far as he could see as the problematic one was on the opposite side from where he was sitting, and he overall seemed perfectly fine at a surface level from his vantage point. This didn't always mean he would be 'fine' internally, yet it meant that it more likely than not was not lethal.

Slowly blinking once with an unimpressed look, Flatline spoke in a droll, his thumb going back to rubbing at the chunk of tool absently.

"So, what's the problem."

Blunt and to the point. No 'welcome!' or 'how can I help!'. Flatline didn't mess with any of that sort of stuff any longer, his tolerances for being a happy helpful doctor basically burned-out eons ago. He worked efficiently with precision, and that was what he valued more than curating some kind of comforting experience for the patient. It was time and effort better served towards getting to the end objective and then getting the individual out and back to war. Such was their job. Or... such was Knock Out's job and he was a somehow worthless leech sitting in his shadow despite having so much more formal training-

No... He couldn't bristle over that now.

The spined panels along his back flicked somewhat against the backrest of his chair, one leg bouncing slightly as he stared Starkrieger down.

[Knock Out]

Knock Out was, at first, nowhere to be seen within the main area of the Medical Bay. Though the sound of tell-tale humming from the attached surgery room quickly indicated where he was. The clinking sound of metal objects being placed into - or onto - something could be heard, though the noise itself was rather vague.

He did not hear the door as it was pushed open, though the sound of Flatline’s voice could be heard - even if he couldn’t quite make out the words spoken. A couple more metallic clinks sounded, before the cherry-red mech would appear - walking backward as he pushed the door open with one of the wheels that hung on his back.

In his arms was a simple tray - and on that tray were yet more tools. All in various stages of rusted corrosion, they’d obviously seen better days. Salvaged no doubt from the Nemesis, the saltwater had taken its toll.

Now in the other room, he would swivel dramatically - turning to look at Flatline and grinning.

“Oh you lucky duck! Since you’re so good at that, you can work your magic on these once you’re done there.”

He hadn’t noticed the Seeker standing awkwardly across the room - or if he had, he clearly wasn’t a priority right at this second. Clearly speaking to the other medic, he made his way over to the other mech’s work table - where he made a point of not-so-quietly slamming the tray down, as to make the rusted tools jostle.

“As for you-” ah, now he was speaking to the Seeker, though wouldn’t turn to look at him. Though it wasn’t out of rudeness, no, he just wanted to relish the look of annoyance Flatline would no doubt give him once he realized just how bad this set of tools were.

“Don’t just stand there, move over to one of the berths and I can have a look at your arm, mm?”

Ah, so he was paying attention.

[Starkrieger]

It was that other one.

Optics narrowing, his primaries may have stayed low, but secondaries were shifting forward, as tension heightened in his frame. Flatline was seated, preventing Starkrieger from successfully assessing signs of weaponry, physical capability, and indicators of his likelihood to attack. What he could observe was that he was being surveyed, critically, at that. Chassis drawing up, he lifted his chin as he pointedly met the other set of red optics if they dared.

Ridiculous, this mech was a medic.
What was he going to do?

In all his years of service, he’d never intentionally attacked a medic. The symbols on the other’s shoulders, along with the Decepticon Sigils stood out as a stark reminder of his status within the ranks. A mecha he was duty bound to sacrifice his plating for because they were not meant for combat, and due to the value of their healing servos being measured in the sparks they saved, and would save one cycle.  

Still…

The oppressive nature of his surroundings had him on edge, the possibility that he might have to submit to the treatment of this… unknown individual, wasn’t exactly putting him in a playful or cooperative mood. Yet, he couldn’t forget, trouble in the medical bay was unacceptable.

Already unsure of what to do with himself, Flatline's question stalled his posturing. The no-nonsense tone didn’t bother him. Krieg didn’t need servo holding, a mech could come to be trusted without the warm and fuzzies. What tripped the Seeker up was he’d been cornered.

“Uh.. Well.” His gaze lost its sharp edge, his wings fidgeting, out of sync briefly as his focus shifted away.  He had a knack for insulting people, on occasion it was unintentional. Too many life lessons learned during the war had desensitized him to quite a few social faux pas. Yet, he knew it would be an outright insult to tell this professional that he didn’t want him anywhere near his sensors.

Frag, he’d heard Knock Out hadn’t he? 

Shifting his weight on his pedes, he hesitated to answer, when, thank Primus the CMO entered the main room. That he was occupied, and didn’t immediately acknowledge his presence, worked to his benefit. Krieg was eager to escape, but that didn’t make him enthusiastic about being attended to.

Curious…

He’d noted the tools Flatline had been working on in the back of his processor, and now more were added, in an even sorrier state of disrepair.

Attention focusing on the darker physician, Krieg’s wings dared to sneak out from hiding, just enough to angle towards them. Did he really have to clean tools? He was a medic, surely someone else could assist the pair… well trio including Breakdown.

As Knock Out addressed him, his wings returned to the relative security behind him. Despite the opening for a smart aft comment, it was probably better to comply without interrupting. Plus, he wanted to see how things played out between the two.  

Selecting a berth with the best shot out the door, the Seeker barely planted himself on it’s edge, both pedes on the floor in what amounted to an uneven lean supported by the fixture. Logically speaking, once a course of action was decided on, he’d have to reposition himself to ensure his own anatomy wasn't in the way.

[Pipette]

DING

A tiny alarm sounded from a timer sitting on the bench.

"Ooohh!" Pipette exclaimed in happy surprise. She carefully finished with the reagent in hand, stopping the bottle with a cork and putting it back on a safe shelf away from her own klutzy hands. She then tentatively walked over to the flat metal box standing on a cooling tray as if stalking potential prey. The chemist then took an infrared thermometer and briefly scanned the contents of the metal box.

"350 degrees Kelvin. Ideal!" She was satisfied that things had sufficiently cooled down for the final few steps. Carefully, she unclipped the four corners of the metal box and gently pried the four sides down so that the box was completely flat and the contents exposed. With delicate precision, she guided an ultrasonic energon knife through the contents several times dividing into 16 equal portions deliberately calculated to be bite size. 

The mirrored sides of her filtration mask separated to expose her waiting mouth as she carefully pried one corner piece away from the rest and popped it in. 

"Mmmm yeeshh" She murmured blissfully as the delicate creation dissolved into a lingering memory of exquisite taste while simultaneously adding just a gentle little boost to her systems.

"Oh random expletive that is good." She sighed happily. After a few long enjoyable moments, Pipette ingested another piece and squirmed with pure contentment. Finally content that she had succeeded with her modified, and much improved recipe, it was time to find another test subject, and she knew several who might be willing.

With the same delicate as before, she reassembled the sides of the metal box, and then fitted a lid. With a deep exvent to enhance her courage, she retracted her hood and goggles, and with the metal box in her hands left her laboratory for the first time that day.

Fortunate circumstance prevailed as she was greeted by the familiar sight of blackm white and red wings disappearing through a doorway. Pipette stepped after the departing seeker being extra careful with the box and its contents. 

With little care to where she actually was, she used her shoulder to push open the door. "Star-kun, would you like to...try..some.." She realised where she was and who else was there with her Starkrieger. "Chief Medical Officer Knock Out, Chief Medical Officer Flatline. I hope today's circumstances are proving fortunate. And I further hope Twinklewings here is not imposing too much on your time." She added, picking up the moniker Backwater had dropped the night before.

[Flatline]

Flatline blankly stared Starkrieger down, waiting patiently for him to elaborate in some way vocally, or to just show him what was wrong. It didn't really happen however, the other mech seeming to hesitate? Stalling? The black and red mech could only guess what may be going through his mind, taking the offered silence to hypothesize on what was going on. Perhaps this individual had injured themselves in an embarrassing way... Something 'pitiful' and 'pathetic' for a Decepticon to have happen to them. Or, he wasn't injured at all and was looking for something else. Did he intend to seek out Knock Out for some report of information? Or was he being absolutely out of line and hoped to steal something, shocked to have been caught and now looking for a lie to validate their presence here.

Words were about to be offered, Flatline opening his mouth to speak once more and ask again what he wanted, before the door across the way was pulled aside and that obnoxious shade of red came spinning into the room on some kind of happy mission to ruin his day.

And ruin he tried.

Flatline's arms wrenched up and back when Knock Out slammed the new tray down, clearing them from being in the immediate line of fire. The impact not only caused the other tools to jostle slightly, but made the table itself tremble just enough that a small metal cup that had been placed too close to the edge fell off with a clunked clatter. It sent a handful of pop-rivets skittering across the floor, Flatline's frame swinging to the side enough to see what had happened, red eyes locking down onto the glitter of silver, before he lurched back upright to look at the decimated tools that were just dropped off, only to have his gaze lock back up at the red mech...

Really!?

A low snarled growl formed at this, an irritated seethe as Flatline bottle up a hateful response. While he didn't verbally reply with words, the turrets on his shoulders clicked and whirred as if trying to aim, while the spinal plating on his back flickered and rattled some in his ire. It was one thing to be belittled when it was just the two of them, but to do so in front of another? It bit, and he was NOT happy about it. He didn't want to be seen as a feeble pawn even if he was one, though he knew his place well enough to not snarl-snap at their CMO in front of a soldier.

Planting his hands on the edge of the now overpacked desk before him, Flatline was just pushing up into a stand when the door opened again and Pipette stepped inside, already speaking before she even knew where she was it seemed. The voice's tone caught Flatline off guard, but not as much as the name that had been thrown out. He didn't understand it, he had no frame of reference on where it was pulled from, as he had no reason nor desire to research earth cultures and customs that created the classifier. They were not worth his time. What he could pick up on however was the fact it was some kind of pet name?

As odd as this situation may be, Flatline was distracted instantly by the title that was cast out next, the femme somehow planting the same rank to him as she did Knock Out. This would have been amazing! Something that would have led to mocking words at their real CMO, yet things continued and this seeker was called 'Twinklewings'. This was the last straw, and Flatline instantly barked out a snorted laugh, a loud popped sound that was so seldom heard from the overly serious individual. Paired with this, he eased upright finally, his damaged leg hanging slack while it stretched so the kneecap could slip back into place gradually.

"It appears I have received a promotion, Knock Out. Why don't you be a doll and go back to the other room? I am sure I can handle Star-kun-twinkle-wings, though I will need your datapad to update the name on the medical records accordingly."

The corner of Flatline's mouth twitched into a sneer that distorted and pulled back into a grin to show off his ground and chipped teeth, absolutely mocking Starkrieger's new name with a low rumbled chuckle.

[Knock Out]

Knock Out did not turn to look at Starkrieger when he moved to sit as instructed, keeping his attention and smug gaze on Flatline as this new task was quite literally dropped onto his sorry excuse for a desk. While the two of them got along for the most part in recent times, that didn’t mean they weren’t above finding ways to make the other individual’s life hell, and this had been the most perfect opportunity to mess with the black and red mech with some harmless - if time consuming - fun.

Aah, and it was so worth it to hear that snarl. The lack of a sassy retort was admittedly a little unexpected, though the clicked whir of the empty turrets told him more than any words probably ever could.

Opening his mouth to no doubt comment on this - because what was professionalism and a waiting patient, anyway? - he could only scowl as the door was pushed open once more and a voice he didn’t quite recognize due to an overly-cheery shift in inflection piped up.

More to the point - why was she here? Was she hurt? She didn’t sound hurt.

“Uh.”

Swiveling on a heel and easing into a proper stand, his faceplate probably told much of his displeasure to what Pipette had just said. He stood there, semi-dumbfounded as he looked at her, noting the box in her hands.

She didn’t look hurt, either.

It was Flatline that spoke first, and Knock Out could only scoff - loudly at that - at his words.

“If we are both the Chief Medical Officer, then we are of equal rank, you dimwit, and therefore you cannot order me around...Though, if you want to take on-” he paused, what the heck was it Flatline just said?

“...Star-kun-twinkle-wings… be my guest. With such a big promotion-” he purred “You are surely more than capable! As for the datapad? By all means, it’s right there on my desk. You can do the honors, given your new title.” he had no issue with an update to the designation, and he was certain that Soundwave - should he happen to notice - wouldn’t really care as long as the rest of the information contained within said file was correct.

He was also fine with Flatline doing the procedure if he truly wanted to. It probably wouldn’t end up being too complicated, and he was a fan of giving the more menial work to his assistant.

Though, that would then mean he’d have to clean the myriad of rusted tools… Meaning his ploy to annoy Flatline would’ve backfired horribly.

Then again, he could just put them back in the other room for another time, given he was the one who actually did hold the rank of CMO, unlike someone.

Keeping his gaze on Pipette, his optics narrowed ever-so-slightly as he finally took note of the rest of what she’d said.

“Given Starkrieger, or Twinklewings as you called him - has hurt his arm, he is not imposing. Yourself, however - you are aware this is a medical bay? Most people do not come in here willingly. Are you injured?”

He didn’t sound too annoyed, though there was a hint of irritation to his tone. At the end of the day, this was a Medical Bay, and as much as he admittedly enjoyed wasting time with idle gossip, that was usually while he was working on a patient at the time. They did not really have the space for people to loiter, and knowing his luck? Today would be the day Soundwave randomly walked by - and he would be the one to get into trouble.

[Starkrieger]

This night was getting way out of hand. If Starkrieger had guessed he’d attract this much chaos simply by existing… he might have turned himself over to the Autobots.

In the span of time between Pipette appearing out of nowhere and her choice in greetings setting everything into motion, he’d taken stock of the body language of the three, gauging the situation. Ever tracking multiple environmental factors, he hadn't lost a single word, and reflexively flinched at the use of the nickname Backwater had bestowed nights prior. His Pipchen was innocent to the complexities of social interaction, but Krieg was all too aware of how different the two scenarios were.

He wasn’t angry; the gaze that settled briefly on the scientist held no malice or displeasure. Krieg knew his Rivet was still sorting through the particulars of relating to other mecha. She meant no harm…. But someone else seemed to.

There was a fine line separating banter from mocking. The laugh he excused, as well as the threat of tagging him with that diminutive designation, but the look Flatline shot at him and his tone grated against his pride.

Derma pressed into a thin line, his optics narrowed. As they shifted their focus to Knock Out, they didn’t soften, though it wasn’t his intention to square off with his medic. He was processing the CMO's general disposition and his attitude towards his subordinate, to assess what he would be allowed to get away with; while reaching a conclusion on how scandalized by Flatline’s goading he was, and the nature of his response.

Decisions made, his attention returned to ‘that other one’, His deadpan expression melted into a devious grin; despite the way Krieg’s optics dimmed, they remained sharp. Oh no, the Seeker was not losing sight of his target; that he was a medic, and that it sounded like Krieg would soon be at his mercy was thrown right out the airlock. Shots had been fired, and the soldier was not taking it lying down. Knock Out had voiced certainty of the mech's capabilities, that theory was now due to be tested.

You want ‘Twinklewings’ do you?
Game on ground-pounder.

Weight shifting to favor a side, Starkrieger cocked a hip, the stance adjusting his center of gravity into a eased lean, as he settled his good servo at the hip with a few absent taps along the plating… that it was his armed side was a happy little coincidence. The Seeker’s wings flared subtly, their surface exposed as they angled their leading edge back in invitation. A gentle twitch was issued to further encourage notice, something he normally would never do in the medical bay. No doubt, it was the first time Knock Out would have seen him get beyond stiff emoting as he conversed, but this was war.

“Bet those denta can work a neck cable just right, mmm?” His purred vocals were accompanied by a lift of his chin to better expose the mentioned anatomy

Mind what you flash at me, medic, or I might stake a claim.

“Kommen sie, doctor. Since you’re so eager to ‘get under my plating’. Let’s see if you can ‘handle’ me.“ There was nothing appropriate about his compliance. The use of the double meanings would have paired nicely with the suggestive tones, but his vocals lacked the light quality of playfulness, even the deeper, sultry suggestion gave way to the warning interwoven in what otherwise might have been an honest offer. There was a bite behind those words, both temptation and threat.

Flatline was instigating a vindictive game, and Starkrieger didn’t care to let others have a say in the rules he played by… but if he wanted to play, well by all means. The Seeker would oblige. He’d enjoy himself, and as he had been insulted, he wouldn’t be too concerned if it wasn't a pleasant experience for the other mech. If Flatline retreated, or Knock Out came to his associate’s aid? Well, then Krieg avoided being treated by the unfamiliar medic. He’d take that win.

::If you have something that would benefit from his medical expertise, or might serve as a bribe; I’d suggest that you use it:: He sent the comm to Pipette's private channel, given to him when they’d met. His tone was charged, as he couldn't entirely separate the emotion his ‘conflict’ with Flatline was invoking, but there was no ill will aimed at his chemist. He doubted she needed his help, but sometimes it was good to know one wasn't entirely alone. 

[Pipette]

Pipette was quickly coming to the summation that she had quite possibly messed up, in three separate ways, in one brief greeting. Item number one: the incorrect title for Flatline, item two: using Starkrieger's monikers here and now in this particular setting, and item three: finding herself imposing in medical. She was unable to quantify the degree of her mess however but theorised it was still salvageable. Despite her determination to clean up, the chemist still felt nervous and awkward. This was something that happened with certain regularity though she never would get used to it. She stood stiffly, like a first gen vehicon, as she faced the three in the room.

Her mind raced to evaluate the individual responses of each individual. Flatline was most difficult. She had trouble separating true mirth from sarcasm. How much was good nature among kin and how much was mocking another for one's own amusement? She didn't know, the lines were too far blurred for her. Normally, she wouldn't give one iota of a sprocket, but this was her Star-kun, and this was her fault. She would have liked to employ some counter agent, still, it wasn't like she could treat social interactions like she did chemical interactions.

Knock Out was easier to understand - at least on the surface. The red medic always seemed more cheerful than most and she was certain that he was simply enjoying the mess she had unintentionally created. Otherwise his displeasure at her imposition was entirely warranted.

Starkrieger was of the three the easiest for Pipette to understand. She had spent more time with the seeker actually making an effort to understand his motions and emotions simply because of her selfish desire to connect. They had traded attention to mutual benefit. Again, she felt awe in the seekers display of controlled power - that primal warrior who merely chose to play. It was only with his whispered words that she rallied her composure. She gave the subtlest of nods of appreciation in his direction.

So she did her best to defuse the situation in the least violent way that she knew.

The chemist bowed her head in submission before raising her optics again. "I have clearly erred, I am sorry for my intrusion, you all have my apologies. I shall remove my imposition post haste. But please indulge me just briefly, I only desire test subjects." She thrust out the box she was holding to arms length. "Rock Candy aero-gel. I have reformulated it to be aerated with nitrous oxide, to give one's systems an iota of boost, and laced it with powdered sodium to leave a taste explosion on the tongue." It was only as she presented the goodies that there was a jot of pride in her voice.

[Flatline]

"Nothing in my words was an order, Knock Out."

The black and red mech smirked in some amusement, still absolutely thrilled at his fake title. It was a small ego boost Flatline didn't know he needed as badly as he had, and while it was ludicrous to imagine, even if he prayed it would be true, it was fun to play along. What was more fun however was the idea of getting to ACTUALLY flex his medical skills and do something more than menial grunt work a Vehicon could do like cleaning tools. He had formal training, he had experience in new technologies and advanced Spark research... he had so much to his name that wasn't being properly used and it hurt.

Trapping him in a sickening loop of the mundane day in and day out.

Knock Out may have wanted to use the idea of dealing with a patient as a punishment, almost phrasing it as if he were dropping some blight upon him just as he had the tools... yet Flatline took it as some kind of blessing from Primus. As such, he was more keen to get moving, and so he lifted himself a little higher with his good leg, letting the knee-disk on his bad side slip into place so he could pull his injured limb beneath himself once more. With this dealt with, Flatline took hold of his cane, and took a couple steps out from behind his now overflowed desk.

Flatline was mostly ignorant to Krieg's posture changes and finer physical implications. The tilt of wings, the crook of hip and tap of claws against paneling... It was meaningless to him, and not even paid heed to when a job needed to be done. However, as much as he may shun such finer details on that level, one couldn't ignore the spoken words and the tone that was pulled with it. The obvious implications, the idea a soldier was flirting with their current medic... there could be a debate it was a nervous response to some, yet that didn't write it as acceptable in any way shape or form.

With a roll of weight, Flatline's advance stopped while his brows hiked up momentarily, his frame easing some to lean casually against his cane while trying to piece together what the hell this person was doing.

Partly closed eyes glared out at Starkrieger with an unamused look, debating what action he should take next as the Seeker continued and made another lewd comment that was also unacceptable. With Knock Out, Flatline knew he would snarl and bark out hate in response, how he was meant to be professional and do his JOB. The CMO flirting was an abysmal affront. A soldier, however? They didn't enact the same indignation of a lack of professionalism that otherwise may be there, though he was still displeased, and as such a sharp 'tsk' snapped out.

"Someone is desperate for attention..."

A low muttered droll, helm turning in Knock Out's direction as if he were speaking behind Starkrieger's back. He then looked back, optics locking into the Seeker's own.

"Don't flatter yourself. I would rather gnaw off one of my remaining arms than indulge in your shallow fantasy."

Primus he missed his secondary limbs... not a day went by he didn’t long for their return, which showed how flippantly opposed Flatline was to the debauchery this Seeker was suggesting. With this, Flatline eased back into a walk, limping with the tap of his cane a few more paces.

"Have some tact. This is a Decepticon outpost, not a singles club."

Flatline's pointer finger rose as he said this, the sharp edge pointing at Starkrieger accusingly with the remark. While the statement was aimed directly at the Seeker, it did not mean it didn't apply elsewhere as well, red optics slowly shifting over to glare at Knock Out just after his words. Flatline did not understand the lack of professionalism this base held. This wasn’t some out in the abyss Decepticon outpost that was a million and one miles away from their acting commanders... this was THE primary base. The central hub of their cause with true Commanders and their Lord walking the halls.

These Decepticons were all disgraces.

Stopping in his walk, Flatline looked over as Pipette spoke and offered both apologies and a food substance of some kind. He didn't really trust others so readily when it came to consumables. Not with someone he didn't know beyond a working agreement. While once upon a time he humored a certain Decepticon upon his first days on Earth, that was when he was trying to integrate and fit in. Now? Now he wasn’t here to impress. He was apprehensive, and would second guess things Knock Out would give him, even if the mech were being sincere.

Because of this, Flatline sidestepped the offer, choosing the moment to throw his own taunts back at Starkrieger with biting mockery and humor. Teasing was different than crass flirting in his eyes, and was more 'acceptable', and as such, Flatline heaved a new horrible nickname at him, keeping to the rough theme.

"I simply could never... it'd be taking food from the mouth of your little Glitterfly."

A borderline chirped happy comment, as if he was truly regretful at the idea of stealing food from the Seeker. At this, Flatline's free hand would lift and gesture over to Knock Out with a swooped and overdramatic motion, his palm angled up.

"I am, however, certain that Knock Out will indulge. He doesn't mind taking things from others."

Like taking my job you piece of trash.

[Knock Out]

“Maybe not, but it would be leading to it!”

Knock Out squawked this out, a servo swiping through the air dramatically as if it’d further enforce his point. He would play along with this fake promotion, but would not lower himself to being ordered around by the other mech - even as a joke.

The shifting of Starkrieger’s posture was unfortunately lost on the cherry-red mech - given his attention had been elsewhere, but the words spoken made him glance at the Seeker - a double-take, mouth hanging open some before closing into a smirk.

Oooohoho this would be good…

This was his kind of banter, and his processor had already snapped to five or so different retorts, each more flirty and downright unprofessional than the last. Though unfortunately the comments were not aimed at him, and so he would remain quiet - even if it pained him to do so.

His gaze shifted to Flatline, almost a little too eagerly and quickly at that - watching the other mech’s faceplate, his posture - waiting to see what he would say in response. Would he scoff and verbally smack Starkrieger down? Would he play along with this and show a side that Knock Out knew had to be in there somewhere - or would he take offense and ruin the mood?

Only when Flatline’s attention turned his way did he quickly avert his own. While he would’ve replied near instantly should the Seeker have been speaking to him, this was not his ‘fight’, and as such wouldn’t respond in any way to the comment made. Content to listen, he could only smirk at the black and red mech’s remark about gnawing off his arms.

Unaware that the last comment had been partially aimed at him, he would scoff and roll his optics. That’d been the perfect opportunity for Flatline to adapt to a situation, to play along - a chance to have some fun and he’d…

Well, he was Flatline.

A shame, though he had a feeling this may not be entirely over yet - the new nickname for Starkrieger was proof enough of that, though it was the mention of his own name that made him balk.

“It’s not taking from others if she’s offering, you idiot!”

Walking forwards, he would make his way over to Pipette - moving past Flatline as he did. As he made his way closer he made a point of easing up onto the tips of his pedes, reaching across to smack the other mech on the back of the helm - or as close to it as he could get without hitting anything sharp. It wasn’t a vicious hit, more teasing; a swat if anything, though the moment felt right to do so, and as such, no apology was given.

“What did you say those things are?” ignoring what he’d just done as he eased down to his normal height, he would turn his attention back to Pipette as everything she said caught up to him all at once.

“Aero rock candy?”

Color him intrigued indeed.

[Starkrieger]

Poor Flatline, who’d expect his blessing from Primus, would come with a backhand from the Unmaker. The medic may have been clueless about his body language, but Krieg was rarely so oblivious. He quickly realized his painfully obvious signals were going right over the guy's helm. Either he was thick, or distressingly unware of his surroundings, giving the Seeker the advantage. That wasn’t the only thing he noted, between the limp and alluded to missing limbs, Starkrieger was amassing plenty of ammunition to further torment the grounder. Certainly, he'd fully intended for this to be serious, but Flatline had to go and derail his plans...Not that it would amount to much of a difference from the other mech's perspective. No, he was too entertaining to simply let him off the hook...

He was being scolded? Oh, how adorable. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had tried that approach. As though to confirm accusations of his ‘desperation' the Seeker dimmed the glow of his optics, no doubt, intentionally.  

Trying to shame me, Precious? You’ll have to do better than that.

"Tact? Come now doctor. You should know coy and demure has no place in the coding of a soldier." He was pointed at and everything, absolutely priceless. How could he stay angry with this mech? In Krieg's mind, he was so utterly outclassed in their little 'war'. Humoring him, he held up a single servo... for obvious reasons, and with a smooth flick of a wrist offered a helpless palm up gesture, as if he had no control over the situation.  

"Of course... If discretion is your concern, you could always disable my vocalizer.” There was that same purr, the unspoken implications hanging heavy in the air. Flatline was welcome to throw judgement his way, Krieg would see it, and up the bet with artful suggestions of just how naughty the medic 'obviously wanted to be'.

Despite his efforts, the other had resumed his approach, the ominous clicking of that cane driving that point home, steady and inevitable. The Seeker’s wings seemed to recall where he was. Their confident angling was lost to a slow drawing back, the tension increasing as they folded down closer towards his backstrut. Well as low as they could manage. With a light clank from the berth behind him,  the sudden contact caused them to jerk up reflexively. Deferring the game, the Seeker's gaze shifted, reevaluating the doctor's frame and 'armaments'. So far the worst that might happen was he'd take a swing upside the helm; an acceptable risk.  Fortunately, that was when Pipette chimed in. 

Thank Primus, she'd bought him some time, even if his little chemist didn't realize it. Honestly, it couldn't have coordinated it better, if they'd planned it . His Rivet was becoming quite the handy ally.

Wait… Glitterfly?
Oh, that was a good one.

Well, as impressive as his new designation was, Krieg was content to observe events unfolding once more. Admittedly he was biased, quietly rooting for his medic. After all, Knock Out had earned at least that much loyalty. Besides, there would be plenty of opportunities to sing the CMO's praise, and to needle Flatline. He didn't want to distract from his Rivet's social victory.  

[Pipette]

Remaining arms? Limp? Pipette's curiosity was struggling to be unleashed. There were various parts of conversation, posturing, and innuendo that flew right past her like hot neutrinos through dihydrogen monoxide but certain aspects fast slipping around the room had caught her narrow focus. The wrongness of a medic in need of repairs was fast becoming too jarring to circumvent. She bullied her own mind into submission briefly, but only because getting a word in was difficult simply because she didn't know her place.

Knock Out was explicitly correct, she had openly made the offer to flatline, like everyone else. There was an adequate supply of samples, though she still intended to share them further than this one room. A greater population to draw statistical analysis was always preferential. 

The red medic's simple question pulled her focus back to where it should be for a moment and she finally remembered to lift the lid from the box in her hand, sliding it underneath with rare fortunate grace. There were 14 very precise squares where once there had been 16. "Aero-gel rock candy" she corrected. "Essentially all the flavor components of Rock candy formulated into an ultra light semi-crystalline foam." Just take one and try it, she wanted to demand. 

Finally however with the momentary lull she had created, her professionalism caved to her inquisitiveness. She simply had to know the truth about the broken medic. 

"Flatline, you are evidently partially dysfunctional, can Knock Out-san not lend an assistive hand so you may be corrected? Or is there a shortage of needed medical supplies?" If that was the case, she wanted to know. She as a mere chemist would likely rank lowly on demand should an incident occur. She would need to take additional precautions if she saw any combat. She also very much hoped there wasn't a shortage of medical competency or Chief Medical Officer may have been a title only awarded due to lack of competition. 

[Flatline]

Flatline's approach halted as Knock Out moved past and slapped the back of his helm, his frame dipping before whipping around to glare at the other medic. He had half a mind to take a swing at him with his cane, however he didn’t want to get into a slap-fight-scuffle with the other mech in front of a patient and his little girlfriend. Things were so far from ideal at this point, yet he felt the need to try to retain some iota of professionalism, even if it was but a drop in the bucket. The two of them on the ground trying to strangle one another wasn't something that'd bode well.

"Watch yourself..."

At this mild warning, Flatline continued and only halted once he got to the opposite side of the Seeker, looking over the limb that was more than obviously out of alignment. From his earlier position, the damage had been obscured by the other mech's torso, so it was only then that he could start to piece together a solution to deal with things. From what he could see at a glance, the joint was more likely than not forced out from a sharp pull or a torquing action of some kind, though what damage it caused exactly was not apparent at a surface glance.

"If you were coded as a soldier, your mind would not be where it is."

Dry words.

"But by all means, continue. Perhaps I will disable your ability to speak, by tearing it from your throat."

Flatline held up his hand at this within the Seeker’s view, sharply flexing the digits and curling them inward before Starkrieger. The motion displayed the sharp inner edge of each claw, the light catching onto it to show how dangerously sharp they were. Should the medic have been gifted with more sturdy struts and real strength, he could do something vicious with them, meaning his threat could very well be true. However, he lacked both. The edge was best for handling delicate parts with as minimal contact as possible, almost using like honed tweezers in a way. At most, he could scratch the mech’s throat, leave some grooves... but he certainly could not rip a vocoder free with brute force and spite alone.

Yet, he didn't share this fact, and he sounded dead serious.

"Just remember, I am the one who will be fixing your arm."

Reaching forward, Flatline then grabbed onto Starkrieger's damaged limb. Despite all the snarled words and anger, he did seem careful with it, one hand cradling the elbow while the other was looped below the wrist to support it. He took the weight off of the arm, and watched where the shoulder was trying to settle, attempting to get a good bead on the mechanics below the outer panels. While he worked, a low growled hum sounded out at Pipette’s words, the fingers around Krieger's wrist curling the sharp edge inward.

She sure as heck didn't feel the need to mention his leg in their previous meeting, so her bringing it up now and calling him dysfunctional was translated as an intentional jab because he was giving her little Star-kun grief. Pointing out his disability and weakness to try to get a rise out of him... Flatline couldn't comprehend how they both thought it was so incredibly wise to agitate their working medic. If he was feeling particularly hostile, he could wrench-pull the Seeker's arm further out of alignment in a way that exploited its internal mechanisms to provide a good amount of pain.

Red eyes drifted over, a twisted smirk forming at Knock Out's new title, though nothing was said regarding it... yet.

"Resources and time go to what is most needed. A Medic has no need to run."

Flatline spoke casually and calmly, his gaze rather fiercely direct at Pipette.

"Remember that reality, and weigh it upon your own usefulness."

A threat? Or a warning?

"Would be a shame if something happened to your own limb."

[Knock Out]

The glare from Flatline was expected. The lack of any real retaliation, however, was not.

It was no doubt something to do with the fact they had company, he was sure. The black and red mech was a stickler for professionalism, and even with the opportunity to get his own back right there and then? Somehow managed to refrain. Though, the comment made him smile.

“Noted.”

His attention would then turn back to Pipette, giving the femme a gentle nod at the correction.

“Can’t say I’ve ever had rock candy before, both normal or aero-gel variety, though I am certainly intrigued.”

Not quite so intrigued as to take one from the open box, however, and while his attention seemed to be focused on the femme in front of him? He was listening to what Flatline was saying across the room. Ah yes, an excellent way to make friends, that - though in the black and red mech’s defense, Starkrieger had left himself open for the comments that followed.

Briefly, his gaze would shift as Flatline moved, taking note of just how the other mech handled the Seeker’s arm even despite his apparent annoyance to the situation - a quiet, almost inaudible hum of approval left him at what he saw, though would turn that gaze back to Pipette as she asked a question of Flatline.

And- Ah. Knock Out-san… what kind of title was that? Was that a title? A human custom? A pet name like Star-kun? Oh Primus no.

An almost nervous chuckle escaped him as Flatline spoke first, though he would follow with an awkward clearing of his throat.

“I think what Flatline is trying to say is that we-” he paused “I - did what I could for his knee, however... given what we have to work with - which is not much, as you can see. I did the best I could, even with further tweaks and repairs over time. He is able to do the tasks assigned of him to a level I deem acceptable-”

Probably above the level that he deemed acceptable, if he was being honest.

“-even with his cane. I would not call him partially dysfunctional, even if he is agonizingly neurotic to the point of excess at times. All the best medics are, after all.”

He didn’t go into the story about Flatline’s secondary arms, assuming the femme had only been referring to the obvious limp as the other mech had moved across the room - the remaining arms comment from earlier had unfortunately gone over the top of his head, no doubt because he was just so used to Flatline being with two remaining limbs.

Keeping his attention on Pipette, he would smile, though made a point to lower his voice just a little as he continued.

“I’d appreciate it if you don’t call me by, ah... Whatever that name was, and refer to me by my full title should you need to add anything to my designation. Save the cutesy names for Twinklewings over there.” flashing a wink in the Seeker's direction, even if the Seeker in question was looking this way or not, he would chuckle.