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

[Starkrieger]

The threatening display was answered with his lopsided grin. Perhaps he didn’t believe Flatline would try anything, or was that confident in his ability to handle whatever was thrown at him. At least the look he leveled at his opponent was less suggestive, but that hardly meant Flatline was safe.

“Is being admired really such a bad thing?.” The Seeker gave no excuse to doubt his sincerity. Optics meeting the other’s if he caught them, his vocals, gentle. If one didn't know better, they might suspect the question to be genuine, an attempt to assess the mech's sense of self worth.

As the distance between them continued to close, his derma pressed in a firm line, the digits of his free servo digging into the berth he leaned against. A stillness settled in his frame, even at the medic’s touch, and gentle ministrations; he made no effort to jerk away, or become aggressive. Irregular venting, and claws biting into the berth were the only complaints he offered. He had lost the contest of wills, and Flatline would be treating him. 

Designed to endure significant stress, the joint was reinforced, but in the manner it was constructed to function. He was built assuming the limb would be yanked while securing a grip on another flier, not acting as a rope swing for a vengeful femme. The neon spitfire had forced it in opposite directions, and having been grounded, any locks to prevent erratic movement had been disengaged. As it stood, mechanisms meant to lessen impact flight combat would have on the joint, exerted pull down and back, mild but it would likely mean increased resistance to efforts to set it.

Tracking the conversation between Pipette and Knock Out, he flinched at a particular word.

Dysfunctional
So much for social victory.

Claws twitched reflexively as Flatline’s brushed his wrist. Still calm, he considered how the mood could be salvaged. Unfortunately, the dark plated physician response drew first blood.

Should his inclination towards defending medics override a personal inclination to protect his little scientist? Did his individual want outweigh the greater good?

Fortunately, this scenario wasn’t nearly so severe.

“Now Now. That’s no way for a gentlemech to speak to a femme.” The disapproval in his tone held its own edge, but it wasn’t quite a threat. A scolding would be more accurate. Probably pretty rich coming from him. “Besides, I wouldn’t take it personally. She's described herself the same way.” His voice softened, not unsympathetic to the position the other mech was in. Empathy aside, the temptation to tease was strong, the opening was there. It would be so easy to slip in crass assurances that the doctor was bound to prove he was 'fully functional', but he swallowed his disappointment. Sometimes Krieg made the prudent choice, and the universe let Flatline catch a break... this time.

Knock Out’s smooth vocals sought to further disarm the situation, not something he would complain about. Knock Out was pleasant to listen to. Sadly, he had other priorities, his attention was drawn to Pipette, gauging her reactions. With the CMO so near his Rivet, he couldn't miss that wink.

“How kind of you to spare me the sparkache… but even Seeker perfection can’t compete with the brilliance of your processor, nor your finish. I yield to the superior mech” Light playfulness, as he accepted the 'inevitable'. Plus, it had given him a moment to consider methods of getting Pipette’s victory back on track.

“I’m sure the opinion of a medic, particularly one with Knock Out’s sophisticated tastes, would be of great benefit to your experiment.” He prompted gently, attempting to refocus the exchange… No doubt, Flatline would have something similar on his mind.

[Pipette]

As the banter, veiled thread and implied threats, bravado and swagger bounced around the other three, Pipette felt herself starting to drown in the flow of conversation. Purely by instinct she took a half step back, unintentionally drawing away the delicacies she was trying to offer.

She noted and latched onto the fact the Starkrieger was here to get his arm fixed, but she would wait til they had privacy before inquiring later. That simple iota of information went to the back of her processor and lodged firmly for when the time would be right.

Pipette hurriedly replied to Flatline a little lost to the precise meaning behind his words. “Well yes I would be ashamed to lose a limb. I am thankful my track record thus far is uncontaminated.”

Next she swung her attention back to the other medic, and provided a respectful nod. “I apologize for my misunderstanding Chief Medical Officer Knock Out.” She would have to again broach the subject of monikers with Starkrieger too, so that she may better refine her haphazard understanding.

Lastly - she hoped - “Please everyone, try a cube and respond with brief subjective analysis. I am highly certain you will not regret the experiment.” She held out the tray at full arm’s length. “And then this socially dysfunctional chemist will make her absence with great velocity.” If she did not sound nervous before, she did now.

[Flatline]

Flatline wasn't here to make friends. He had a job to do, and he didn't need companionship or 'buddies' in his life to bring him some kind of fulfillment like others may. The truce with Knock Out was appreciated, and it was something he did like! But that did not mean he reached out in a blind hope for more individuals to act as a shackle on his already damaged leg. Starkrieger was not in line to be a friend. Nor was Pipette. Not with the way they were both acting this day, and as such he felt absolutely no grief over threatening the Seeker.

Especially when he was seemingly still trying to goad him.

"Yes. Pay attention to your own job and shelf vanity."

While Starkrieger had attempted to make eye contact with the more sincere question, Flatline did not even look up from his task. He was focused on the damaged shoulder now that he was in range, getting a good bead on what model and structure lay beneath the layers. With every individual possibly having different struts and components, he always took extra care to make sure his patient wasn’t outside the typical brackets and that they didn't have custom modifications. Even if they appeared cookie cutter at first glance, he did not bank on such things.

Now that he had a closer vantage, and was gently maneuvering the limb with utmost care, Flatline was hit with a moment where he desperately wanted his secondary limbs. A faint pull of mechanics, a soft twitch... the brackets beneath the patched armor on his chest, invisible to others, tried to move habitually. The attempt to work with arms that were no longer there caused a surge of additional stress, a ghost effect made where he could swear he felt them, his ‘fingers’ simply slipping through what he tried to grab.

"Now Now. That’s no way for a gentlemech to speak to a femme."

Flatline slightly rolled his eyes, not wanting to play this game, it just confused and frustrated him. What was the point here? It was all illogical and was grating his nerves. He just... he just wanted to do his job, and would have been happy about it! He was given an opportunity and without the interruptions and weird flirting he would have been asking questions and making certain nothing hurt! Details on how it happened so he could reverse it! Trying to be a good doctor so Starkrieger could be up and out with his limb repaired swiftly! Yet, they were ruining this experience for him and it soured it all in a disappointing way and reminded him how much he tended to hate others.

At Knock Out's words, Flatline let out a low exvent, both in dismay that he truly was trapped with his knee, and then an overtone of relief to get some kind of recognition of his skill from the CMO.

Even if it was masked in a partial insult.

Curling his arm furthest away from Krieger down, Flatline draped the other mech's forearm along his own, his hand clutching the seeker's elbow securely to hold it steady. With his right arm free then, Flatline gingerly ran his thumb along the other mech’s shoulder joint, tucking the narrow blade between it and the outer more decorative armor paneling. While it may look damaging, almost as if the 'weapon' was shearing down into vital internals, it was done with care and a growing understanding of its configuration. The blade seamlessly cleared anything dangerous, slipping into a void, likely feeling like nothing more than pressure and an awkward obstruction and stiffness, before gently tapping one of the flight locks with similar care.

Now that he located the major flight lock, Flatline's helm would crook to the side at a different angle, his pointer finger then pressing into another gap to try to locate the secondary one. The longer reach of his joints made the process more dexterous and careful, not needing to use a tool nor make the other mech's arm hang slack.

He still wanted his damn arms back though.

When Starkrieger started buffing Knock Out's ego, Flatline felt nauseous, wondering how things would be around Blackridge without him around. Would it be a parade of individuals preening the CMO's metaphorical feathers to get good medical care? Would it just be a battle of egos where if you didn't play ball then one’s injuries would be neglected? It made some of the panels along his back rattle, the turrets clicking faintly as if they were trying to focus and aim. Pipette trying to sell her damn candy again was the last straw, a low growl then forming as his hand tensed, causing some pressure to be applied to Starkrieger's shoulder mechanism that wasn't intended.

With a swift wrench that thankfully didn’t rip into anything, Flatline removed his fingers from the hinge, baring them again with an irritated twitch to the digits that mirrored a twitch of his lower eye.

"Look. I am trying to work here. Do you want me to just palm slam the joint back in place so you two can go? Because I certainly can."

A flustered sort of ire, red eyes darting between Starkrieger and Pipette a couple times, before glancing at Knock Out, just wanting this nonsense to end. He gave the red mech a pointed look as if trying to wordlessly say 'do something'.

[Knock Out]

“Is being admired really such a bad thing?.”

Not at all was what Knock Out wanted to say, though the question wasn’t exactly aimed at him. Everyone loved compliments, and he was sure that even deep down Flatline could appreciate a good word thrown his way - be it about his frame, or otherwise.

The reply given by Flatline - the polar opposite to his own answer, even if he did not speak it aloud - was utterly predictable to the point that the cherry-red mech couldn’t help but gently tsk - a noise that was quickly masked by the clearing of his throat, casting a brief glance to Pipette as she took a half-step back.

Normally able to integrate rather seamlessly into social situations, Knock Out found himself standing rather awkwardly and uncharacteristically quiet as the conversations flowed. He wondered how long until Starkrieger crossed some sort of line to the point it’d make Flatline refuse to continue his work - or how long it’d be until Flatline lost his temper and he himself would have to step in.

His attention drifted to watching how the black and red mech worked - idle observation more than anything else, and only when the Seeker addressed him did he turn his gaze in his direction, chuckling.

“Let’s be honest, not much really can compete.” another wink followed these words as his fingertips flared across his chassis “Though you get bonus points for being so willing to admit defeat, and in front of your friend here at that.”

Being admired was not a bad thing indeed, and Knock Out would take any and every chance to pad his own ego. Though this smugness would seemingly taper off as Pipette nodded at him, and he would turn back to her and smile.

“Apology accepted - as for the cubes… mm.” he would move forward so he did not have to reach quite so far, a servo hovering over the offered tray - though he would not take one, seemingly reluctant as he slowly withdrew, lowering his servo back to his side. “As tempting as they may seem and as delicious as they may look, I hope I do not cause offense in asking you to have one yourself before I partake. Sophisticated tastes aside, the brilliance of my processor means I know better than to sample random foods. Well, that and reading far too many novellas in my spare time.”

Were they poison? Probably not. But it’d certainly be a good way to take out the CMO and the only other real medic they had in one fell swoop. She had synthesized them herself, and he honestly did not know her enough to blindly trust, even if she had the best intentions at spark.

Glancing to Flatline, he caught the look given his way, giving a simple shrug of his shoulders before peering back at Pipette, one servo raising to the side of his mouth as he angled himself just slightly to stage whisper in her direction. His voice quiet, though Flatline could probably still hear him regardless.

“Though, if there’s anything in them that can… well… affect mood - if you catch my drift there - I’ll help crash tackle Flatline if you want to force feed him one.”

Was he joking? Probably. Though he’d be game for it if she was. Flatline needed to chill out, and she did say that she would be departing soon, meaning one less distraction to deal with. 

[Starkrieger]

Krieg had let the snapped response glide right over his wing, humoring the cranky medic. It was probably best for him to refrain from pointing out, he currently had nothing else to focus his energy on. The medical procedure itself was harder to ignore. The twitch of his claws against the other's arm betrayed his surprise as Flatline ‘dove in’.

This was…

Optics squinting, he shifted his weight against the berth. Physical contact with Flatline kept him aware of his movements, and prevented him from jostling the affected area. Though his other shoulder drew inward, trying to squirm away on behalf of it's twin.

Whatever the medic did, did not matter.
If it was in the course of treatment, a medic was not to be resisted.

So the Seeker reminded himself.

A tap at his flight-lock, and his wings jolted up. With a slow, out-vent, the flier had looked away, shutting out the system warnings. Obviously, he could fly root without them, as disengaging the safeties was essential for assault, and less orthodox maneuvering. However, their malfunction would serve as a complication and distraction; worse, it'd potentially cost him limb mobility if stuck in their engaged position. Small wonder that 'some thing' in their path would set off alarms.

Starkrieger’s frame tensed as he belayed a reflexive convulsion when the secondary lock was prodded. The possibility of him injuring that healing servo, or ending up with bits of it lodged in his systems started allowing an anxious static to slip through his hold on his field.

Yet, he didn’t growl, whine, nor threaten… but… why was Flatline doing this?

Krieg was smart enough to realize it was not a form of vengeance. He could do far worse with far less effort. What then?

Knock Out might have kept him occupied. The acceptance of their ‘exchange’ and that wink made it easier to see the CMO as a mech, not the wielder of the equipment that tormented him. But, the Seeker was not the gangly physician tending to him. He noticed framelanguage, and the sound of those turrets and the rattling of paneling drew his attention.

“Doctor?”

His vents seized, spark constricting, as that unintended pressure erupted into a jolt that burned along his wiring.

Primus.
Ex-venting, Starkrieger started to catch up with the scolding.
He was really fired up. More than Krieg would have expected.

A glance at Knock Out sought clues as to how far this went, but that shrug seeming to indicate there was no concern, and yet, Flatline seemed high strung. It wasn't the 'aggression' Krieg had grown accustomed to others throwing his way. It felt deeper, more personal.. unsettling.

“Wasn’t that… the plan?” His vocals strained; as the spike in pain settled back into its sulky throb.

It wasn't the question he’d wanted to ask, just the first response his processor strung together as coherent words. That Flatline might make unkind conclusions about his ignorance didn't occur to the Seeker. His experience with properly trained and equipped medics had been limited after he'd joined the war. Instances where there was time for more than a quick 'get them mobile and in the sky' patch had been additionally uncommon.

Before he could follow up with the inquiry he'd intended, the sounds of conspiracy reached his audials. Optics narrowing, he studied Pipette and the good doctor, trying to gauge if they would, in fact, act on this plan. He had no intention of being anywhere near this series of events. If he was to wind up battered, it'd be on his own terms, not as collateral damage in some sort of grounder pile up.

[Pipette]

By now Pipette was fully cognizant of Flatline's ire, and aware as to her place in the cause of it. Her own exasperation was rising with the unexpected complications of her miscalculations regarding delicious offerings. It should have been simple, why was it so frustrating? Nervousness was giving way to exasperation.

She tried to be quick. Not that she was any good at being concise.

"I have already partaken twice but...." She noticed her Star-kun's increase in discomfort. He was a soldier, a fighter, and a defender. She hadn't pried yet into his apparent injuries for two reasons, primarily because nothing appeared to be immediately fatal, and a good soldier should be capable of sufficient functioning despite a minor inconvenience.

She did fully intend to later indulge her curiosity about what ever injury Starkrieger had incurred, but it was mostly curiosity and very little concern.

Pipette decided to solve two equations with one solution.

Watch as I give the one person I may have an iota of care for a sample of my expertise.

She stepped around Knock Out and towards the seeker, balanced the tray on one hand, plucked up a cube of her new and improved rock candy, and shoved it towards Starkrieger's face hole.

"The taste alone should enhance mood and make you feel better, though I'm trying to get a baseline first before adding supplementary enhancers." She spoke for everyone's benefit. She absolutely had no intention of crash tackling Flatline for any foreseeable reason. Such activities were best done by more physical mechs than herself. And forcing a subject to partake in such an imprecise manner could potentially invalidate the very results she was after.

[Flatline]

Before he had reeled around to snap at everyone in the room, Flatline had been keeping a careful bead on how Starkrieger responded as the locks were located. Mental notes were made on if the reactions seemed reflexive, or if they were related to real hurting. The lack of snorts or similar sounds of the sort gave the impression it wasn't a response of pain, but soldiers were soldiers and he could be masking it profoundly well. Flatline was going to ask about said discomfort, ask where he was on a scale, then add three points to his answer to account for pitiful bravado in front of his girlfriend... but then things went sideways again.

"Knock Out! Don't encourage her! I will bite the finger off anyone who tries!"

Flatline couldn't fight. He didn't have physical strength, and while he gave an illusion of being larger and stronger, he was a quite narrow and scrawny mech. If they got it set in their mind that he HAD to eat something because it would make him more 'pleasant' or something to be around? He would be hard pressed to actually fight back unless he resorted to his circular saw. That said, his threat was very much true. He would snap his teeth down onto someone's hand with as much force as he could produce.

At Starkrieger's following words declaring what the plan must have been, Flatline's red optics would slowly slide back to look at him, an exhale slipping through his vents as he relaxed back to neutral words that were eerily calm versus what tones were used previously.

"Oh sure, if you want it to be painful... though given your current decorum, I now expect you to declare that is part of the 'fun' or other abhorrent statement."

Flatline rolled his eyes as this, flicking his right hand in the air flippantly while still cradling the Seeker's forearm along his own to keep the weight off it. It was during this he saw Pipette approaching. He thought about warning her, about informing that it may not be a good idea to stand so close to a patient who was injured... especially trying to offer food, yet they were close so perhaps that didn't matter? Yet despite this, he couldn't understand her ignorance and raw bravado and determination. Did she truly not have any concept of situational perception? Did she not grasp the tone in the room? She called herself 'Socially Dysfunctional', which obviously now wasn’t just an idle joke, but was a painfully accurate statement. Flatline's unamused gaze settled on her a moment, before drifting back to Starkrieger to pick up where he had left off before the Seeker could get distracted with candy.

"I WAS going to disengage locks and carefully slip the joint back in alignment. See if pain inhibitors would be needed. But since you seem to know medicine so well..."

Flatline moved violently then. He wrenched Starkrieger's arm down directly at the seeker's side, before he hatcheted the limb up with its elbow fully extended. He avoided the arc of the arm as it swept up, his hand planting beneath the limb as he rammed it straight as if he were trying to make the other mech touch the ceiling despite it being well out of range of his claws. The motion forcibly crushed the hinge back in place, raking across the flight locks and other mechanisms that had been meant to hold the multi-directional joint initially. It made an ungodly crackled BANG as the metal plates slammed against one another and the ball socket bottomed out, and while the locks wouldn’t be damaged nor ripped off by the motion given the angle used on his model, nor would this process leave any long-lasting injury, it didn't mean it was pleasant or enjoyable in the slightest in the moment.

Trading in pain for the boon of speed in a not so equal exchange.

Instead of supporting the limb upright to let it then settle, Flatline promptly let go, holding both his hands up at either side with fingers splayed in an 'I'm done' sort of gesture, taking a step back and out of the way of any instinctual backlash. This movement likely meant that the newly aligned arm would slap back down roughly, causing reverberations back up to the aching joint.

Flatline's eyes were half lidded, mouth pressed closed into a thin line as his expression was very much not pleased nor entertained in the slightest. He didn't like doing 'dirty' repairs like this, preferring to make things better for the patient, not cause pain for the sake of an easy fix... but Starkrieger pressed enough buttons at this point he didn't care, especially since he didn't warn his girl to back off the moment she started getting pushy. As such, Flatline simply did things the rough way to end with the intended goal as a nice little 'gift' for being such a good little patient... 'good' an exaggeration.

Truly, the Seeker didn't do a significant amount wrong, but Flatline liked things a certain way and deviation from general respect between patient and medical professional was not a request, but was a requirement. Once the other mech crossed that line, and everyone else piled on, it was doomed to failure, especially when none of them took the hint and backed down.

[Knock Out]

Like Pipette, Knock Out was more than aware of Flatline’s ire toward the situation. He’d bet money - if he actually had any - that once the pair had left the Medical Bay, he would bear the vocal brunt of the black and red mechs annoyance. Though, in his defense? He wasn’t the one working on a patient, and so any accusations of ‘unprofessionalism’ couldn’t be held against him.

Or so he would argue, when the time inevitably came.

As he was directly addressed, he would simply give another loose shrug of his shoulders in response, though was smiling all the same.

“What can I say, I’m a bad influence.”

It wasn’t like he would actually follow through with his offer to crash tackle Flatline. With how pointy and angular the other mech was, the scratches that would come from such an assault simply weren’t worth the effort.

He wouldn’t move to follow Pipette, instead taking a step to casually lean back against his own desk, folding his arms as he observed. He certainly wasn’t getting involved in whatever it was she was about to do, choosing to remain at a safe distance. Maybe they did affect mood after all and she was about to try and feed one to Flatline now he'd given her the idea to. 

Rather Flatline than himself, though he certainly wouldn’t say no once he saw the effect they had on someone else first.

But alas, it simply was not to be. The black and red mech had seemingly had enough of the shenanigans and was taking matters into his own hands - quite literally at that. Knock Out could only gawk, both arms dropping to his sides as Flatline effectively slammed the hinge back into place on Starkrieger’s arm - the noise that came with this motion was…

Well, it made the cherry-red mech shudder. Eesh.

That was one way to do it at least. Probably not the correct or the nicest way, but… hopefully it’d worked. At least he was out of range of any potential backlash - again, rather Flatline than himself.

[Starkrieger]

Picking up on the mounting aggravation, the threat thrown the CMO's way only heightened the sense that he shouldn't be here. Was his greater obligation obedience, or self preservation?

That was just slightly over dramatic.

Ultimately Starkrieger stayed put. Settling into an uneasy silence, he listened, attentive, though his wings shifted, restless with the doctor's presumptions. Confirming risked provoking the mech, but denying involved a certain admission of ignorance. While he wasn't bothered by his lack of medical knowledge, per say, there were implications he didn't care for, conclusions that had been drawn by others in the past. Krieg didn't like what might be surmised, and so, simply let the other continue as he would.

Flatline would have been right to warn Pipette off, if Krieg was in the habit of losing sight of who was a valid target and who was not. Any less awareness, and he may have lashed out when something came at his faceplate. Identifying it as a non-threat, he still pulled back to focus his optics and properly investigate the thing he was meant to consume. He was, by nature, curious, and this caused him to make a basic but fatal error. His primary focus slipped from a threat, and Flatline proved willing to offer overdue training.

The medic was surprisingly fast, not fast enough that the Seeker was completely caught unaware. The harsh movement alerted him to the ‘attack’, his wings snapped out half spread.

Medics were not to be resisted.

He was going to suffer. Flatline finished the motion, the grinding of plating and metal screeched ominously, surfaces grating to the point the flier was sure layers were worn down.

He nearly yanked his arm away, his weight shifting in an effort to move but froze, as he overrode the reaction. Gripping into the berth with his free claws,  ends buried into the surface well past the first joint. Then, to add insult, Flatline dropped the limb, further aggravating strained structures.

Hard optics zeroed in on the doctor. Releasing a held ex-vent, the cause of his minimal audial response was likely identified by the time it took him to reboot his vocalizer. Yes, he had offline it. standard for that caliber of care in the field. That didn't stop the sharp venting from registering heavy to the audials.  Leaning in closer, his glare remained fixed, as denta were bared. His wings all but vibrated at their tips as they flared out, as he faced Flatline directly, as if to square off with the medic.

“You, should warn a mech, Doctor”, his hissed words emphasized the title. What more could be said? He knew damn well he’d been punished, and in fairness, he had played the game. Anyway, it was the course of treatment he had expected, mostly.  How angry could he be? No, his emotions came from somewhere else.

Regardless... Medics weren’t to be attacked.

Giving Flatline his space again, he straightened up, to turn his attention to Pipette. Prying his claws from the berth, he delicately reached out and lightly plucked the candy from her grasp, popping it into his mouth. Despite the explosion of flavor once the treat hit his glossa, Krieg schooled his reaction, as he manipulated the confection. Finally, he offered his Rivet an easy smile.

“Delicious Pipchen. You’re not allowed to record my assessment as ‘adequate’... it is... ‘ideal’” He purred softly tone lifting to affectionately tease, before he gingerly tested the repair. Subtle spasming of his wings aside, his experiment also proved to be successful. No warnings about injury or obstruction. The joint performed its function, disregarding a ratcheting that interrupted the motion. Overloaded pain receptors raising the Pit; surely, they would get over it. He already felt immensely better, and he hadn’t even had to submit to a scan. Maybe he would consider Flatine to be one of ‘his’ medics in addition to Knock Out. Wouldn’t he be so thrilled about that?

“Well, one thing is certain, I have my answer now, don’t I Second Rate? “ He glanced at Flatline, to clarify precisely who he was addressing, as he watched to assess the effect he had. “You could definitely use those denta to work a neck cable, just...right.” There was aggression behind that purr, but his vocals were no less suggestive for it.

Didn’t really think it was that easy, did you Sweetspark? 

---

permission to assume Pip's location granted by River. Thank you. 
  

[Pipette]

"There! Not only safe but certified Ideal!" If Pipette sounded like she was in a huff, it was simply because of her nerves in what was the most awkward she felt since arriving on Sol's third rock. Wanting to achieve a result in her experiment, while simultaneously wanting to escape left her processor spinning in just the wrong way. But her selfish concerns were not the only ones fluttering.

Pipette had little in the way of empathy, and less so sympathy. Statically she cared very little for the wellbeing of others. Her own twisted relationship with the sensation of pain only serve to lessen what little impact there was. However, on an intellectual level, she registered Starkrieger's pain and discomfort. To say she was fond of her Star-kun might have been an exaggeration, but it wasn't a falsehood. Technically, her fondness did not exclude the other two mechs who had their own merits as her kin. The chemist reinforced her mental note to reconnect with the seeker at the earliest convenient opportunity. They were part of a society, being social was the correct action almost by definition.

Having got just one subjective analysis for her chemistry, she decided she had pushed enough to quit while she was quantifiably ahead. One out of three was more than zero out of zero afterall. She plucked the next two cubes from her tray and placed them down on Knock Out's desk. She knew from previous experience he kept it free of contaminants.

"Genteel mechs, I humbly apologize for my interruption." Pipette dipped her head in a bow for the three others and bolted for the door, which she promptly opened into herself, nearly knocking the contents of her tray onto the floor. Further embarrassed, she slipped out and struggled to close the door behind with her dignity in tatters.

"Expletives!" she whispered to herself as she leaned against a wall attempting to reset herself. Almost with a twitch, she cleared her vents, engaged and disengaged her t-cog, and drew her mask-goggle-hood combo around herself. After a whispered recital of the periodic table, she was calm enough once more to expose her face.

"Next volunteer please." She asked of noone at all.

[Flatline]

A few quick steps backwards, a quick retreat... Flatline made a point of promptly getting out from the line of fire after he had slammed the joint in line. He had no intention of being caught in the path of a frantic lash of pain, and even less desire to be in the path of a direct assault after the fact. He could easily see what the Seeker’s claws could be capable of, and they would no doubt cause ample issues. Whatever the case, the black and red mech’s hands remained up a moment longer, showing his passivity and how he didn’t intend to strike out once more.

This avoidance method worked perfectly, though it did come with an issue of Flatline now being somewhat stranded. The table’s surface, and more importantly... his cane... was well out of reach. The tool was leaning on the side of the medical berth where Starkrieger was, the gnarled device consisting of a series of iron pipes and corresponding connectors. While this could be problematic, as the few steps away had stung, Flatline didn't draw attention to it, his weight bared down upon his good leg.

So long as he didn't have to move, no issue would be apparent, the gyroscopes in his shoulders working in tandem to keep him steady without much of a wobble, if any. His injured leg was placed down to emulate normality, but a mindful individual could pick up the fact that no weight was pushed upon it, the sharp pronged peds not flared out from mass pressing them.

Flatline’s gaze watched carefully, the lack of violent outburst almost impressive.

Likely to show off for his little 'Pipchen'.

Yet... warn the mech? No. He wasn't going to warn him. It wouldn’t have even come to such a point if things had been taken seriously. Because of this, the medic simply stared Starkrieger down fiercely as he regarded him, red optics latched into his with direct confrontation in mind. Flatline was generally a beaten dog at this outpost, he had been damaged and emotionally dulled a great deal... he was miserable and passive... but not here. Not now. He was angry. And it produced a flare of his old self, challenging the Seeker. DARING him to take a new foolish step and do something truly idiotic.

If it expanded into a real fight, Flatline knew who the victor would be. He did not pretend he would stand a chance. Yet, he would make a mark, and try what he could if push truly came to shove. Luckily, it didn’t seem to be on the horizon, though his gaze did not soften or relax. The same fierce look remained as Starkrieger turned his attention to his little sidepiece, the small white lens plates locked upon the two with a level of irritated disgust. Flatline didn't pass Knock Out a glance, his focus absolute while he tried to read the other two and what they were doing, though it was a book that he didn't know the language of.

Starkrieger was transparent. A sleazy dirty mech that played the role of a boyfriend like a mask.

The thing Flatline did NOT understand was the femme.

When he was busy, she was pushy and demanding in a way. Trying to press for them to take a moment to taste the sweets, having barged into the Medical Bay with no regard to the fact someone needed assistance. Even when he had the mech's arm supported and was trying to feel for the right way to ease the joint in place, she was still approaching with her little experiment as if its importance bested everything else. Yet now? Now she ran? After the medical issue was resolved and mostly taken care of?

The moment he could have given her more than a snarl, when he didn't have a task, she had evacuated the room as promptly as she arrived. No. Not as promptly. Even more so. Her escape was almost frantic, crying out her odd 'expletives' comment again that she had struck him with their last meeting. It confused Flatline. It truly honestly did. For the briefest of moments, he wondered if her goal here was not to peddle her candy, but rather some kind of jabbing attempt to torture him. It was a paranoid line of thinking, nobody gave any shits about such things, but he didn't care if it was illogical, it was something that crossed his thoughts as a new sort of silence entered the area.

The violent shift from rising tension and anger that pinnacled into a raking slam of a joint, then went to an almost harrowing quiet.

Flatline said nothing. He wasn't going to play Starkrieger's game, his gaze sliding back up to stare the Seeker down.

[Knock Out]

There was a sort of lingering silence after Flatline forcefully shoved the joint back into place. While it didn’t linger for too long, it certainly felt like it did, and Knock Out could only watch Starkrieger - trying to gauge what sort of reaction was to come. Would he lash out and smack the black and red mech? It’d be well deserved after that, he figured. Would there be screams of pain as the reality set in of what’d just happened? Or acceptance upon realizing that the rather barbaric method had worked as intended.

Part of him hoped it would be the first one, though that was only because there was a lack of decent drama around here in recent days. Of course, should Krieg lash out? He’d probably have to call for backup which was a whole lot of effort and paperwork should things get out of hand, so maybe that particular outcome wasn’t for the best after all.

It was a tense few seconds, broken by words that while hissed? Were certainly calmer than what most would’ve replied with.

Well, that answered that.

A slow ex-vent escaped him, unaware that in that brief moment he’d seemingly stopped venting in, so utterly focused on what was going on. Things seemed to calm, with Krieg taking a piece of the strange candy - eating it without question or hesitation. He trusted her, though given their earlier interaction? They clearly knew one another.

It was then that his gaze shifted to the femme. A smile was offered as she placed two of the cubes on his desk, paired with the gentle bob of his helm. A show of thanks, even if he did not partake in them then and there, curiosity would no doubt get the better of him later simply by having them within reach - and he would give a full report on how they tasted.

A quiet hum was the only response to her apology; as while she had barged in, bringing an edible substance into an area that was to be kept free of as many foreign contaminants as possible, it hadn’t been as disruptive as some interruptions could be.

Then just as quickly as she had arrived, did she leave - and once more Knock Out’s attention shifted back to Krieg as he spoke. While Flatline wasn’t going to play this little game, the cherry-red mech was certainly up for a little chaos now and then.

“Oh and then some, believe me. Though don’t ask how I know that - a good mech never tells.” he strode forward as he spoke, flashing the Seeker a wink as one servo splayed across his chassis, almost for dramatic effect.

Sorry not sorry, Flatline.

[Starkrieger]

Well the medic sure was touchy. The flare in his optics, the menace behind the way he squared off with him. Rather than put the Seeker off, it was invigorating. Not that he had a sense of how significant this interaction was for Flatline, Krieg took it for granted that this was the typical way he conducted himself, and approved with his whole spark.

Amusement wouldn't completely blind him to the rest of the world. The huff, and her quick exit from the room suggested that Pip had been overwhelmed . Still, no one liked when they were hovered over; his Rivett would need time to process. In the interim, he would amuse himself with the medic.

“Relax Second Rate, I’m a proper soldier; I don’t attack medical units. “ Raising his left servo, the Seeker studied the tips of his claws as the thumb picked the middle digit, not the slightest hint of concern. He wasn't stupid, he knew well enough 'soft' ideals didn't always translate well in the Decepticon ‘army’. He also knew that any stance one took, by and large, was measured by the confidence that backed it. Weakness painted a bigger target than unpopular opinion “You should remember, we aren’t all former civilians, our perception of medics differ from what I suspect you’re accustomed to” It was a gentle scold, further softened by his optics being diverted from the mech, albeit in a dismissive manner.  He wasn't admitting defeat after all, merely clarifying the conditions that he was engaging the mech under. 

Knock Out's approach diverted his attention. Those silver vocals were never unwelcome, that they were currently smoothed with an impish tone that vibrated just under his pitch into a pleasant sort of purr only made it that much sweeter. The actual words warranted a pointed smirk at Flatline, Knock Out had, essentially potentially gas on an open flame, but for the moment the CMO occupied him.

“I’d expect nothing less from you Doctor. A gentlemech as well as a scholar. “ He issued a soft sigh, tension in his wings easing with the distraction. ““But I suspect your one flaw, is you may be more than a recovering mech could manage.”  Wasn't it oh so disappointing, not that he really suspected he couldn't manage the grounder quite fine if they'd had a mind, but he trusted Knock Out to recognize that they were both on the same page. If rumors were true, that Cherry red chassis was very much 'look, praise even, but don’t touch', and Krieg respected that. So long they each abided by the rules, a little back and forth would leave them no worse for wear.    

But there was a small issue. This was the med bay, and he was the Chief Medical Officer.

After a click, there was a shift, his jaw set as his sights fixed on the senior medic with greater gravity. He didn’t mind the other mech being close to him, but there was the possibility that there was a … reason.

“Did you… need to check his work?” His voice softened, particularly in volume, his wings tightening against his frame.

[Flatline]

Flatline wasn’t about to give Starkrieger the time of day, and he certainly wasn't going to give Knock Out the time of day when they were playing such a game. The two mech were trying to bait him into a confrontation, trying to get a rise out of him to likely laugh if he were to break and snap back. Mocking his teeth, continued lewd jokes and a nickname that he did not care for... This would be bad enough, but it was punctuated by the fact that Starkrieger didn't just call him 'Second Rate' to give him grief, but likely believed it too given the way he asked Knock Out if he needed his work checked out. Words that were said softer and more passive, not in the same taunting tones used previously.

The other things could be ignored with a bite of his tongue and determination to not clutch onto the offered bait even if he wanted to. Snide comments that could be thrown back... trying to twist their words against them to strike in turn... or just evict Starkrieger from the room outright. To not get involved was an easy choice, though difficult when the right words came to mind. Yet, it was the smart thing to do to save what little dignity he had left. Continuously burned by being placed beneath Knock Out as an inferior once more. It struck at his pride, and cut deep given he served his entire life in medicine and frame construction. He never was anything else, as even when he worked on Sparks, he still had his work as a doctor as well.

He was being pushed beneath the skills of an artist that picked up medicine as a 'get out of combat free' card.

Flatline clutched onto his new vow of silence as to not cause issues for himself. He didn't snarl a response, didn’t challenge the insults, nor did he show weakness by looking aside or furrowing a brow from the verbal strike even if it did hurt. He simply let out a snort of a sound as he moved his bad leg forward and tried to walk back to fetch his cane, his hip dipping some as the knee wanted to collapse down and not take on his full mass.

Bearing through the pain for such a short sprint was simple enough, to not limp as hard as his body wanted to. With a snap, he grabbed hold of his cane, planting the blunted end down with a sharp click of metal against stone. With this now safely in his grip, Flatline would turn away from Starkrieger, starting to move towards his meager workspace without offering a single word or glance back as he went. It was as though the mech was no longer there.

However. He did offer Knock Out one silent look. Eerily calm, a sort of wordless promise that he would suffer for what he did. When and where was debatable... but Flatline would not forget the other medic’s words.

Should they not directly address to stop his progress, he would aim to sit back down at his work area.

[Knock Out]

The nickname that was given to Flatline for the second time this day was met with a gentle - albeit brief - quirk of a brow. Just a few short months ago he himself would’ve clutched onto that name and found a million ways to verbally pull the black and red mech down further - yet this day? He found himself questioning the choice of words.

If only because he personally didn’t believe them.

Second Rate? Hm. Maybe it was a rank thing, though it did not seem to be done with malicious intent, nor was it mocking him legitimately. Perhaps Flatline was looked down upon because to those that did not know him, he simply held the role of an assistant. Which… while was technically true, he did have the skills to stand on his own. Knock Out had been so very lucky during the war in that what rudimentary knowledge he had on frames had somehow translated into a natural skill in Medical based work, to the point it’d certainly been a case of being in the right place at the right time.

It was something that Flatline resented him for, and had made it quite apparent during their many arguments over… however long it’d been. Too long.

Despite this nickname throwing him off for a second, he wouldn’t comment - remaining neutral. He could instigate, tease Flatline further, or choose to make things awkward and smack Starkrieger for something that may have not been worth the effort, given he didn’t think the name was particularly insulting. There was no retort from Flatline to show he’d taken offense, and if there was any upset? He was sure the other mech would be quite vocal in his irritation once Starkrieger had left the room.

He did note how Flatline moved with silence, though. Always a bad sign, but he did not dwell on this - the smooth-talking Seeker had drawn his gaze, and he’d smile, lowering his arm back to his side.

“Well, I suppose as far as flaws go… I can probably accept that one, if only because it’s true.” he purred, chuckling. “Certainly brave of you to admit, however.”

He was certainly amused indeed - not many were bold enough to do this game of back and forth, and it’d been far too long since he’d gotten to play along.

At the question he would hum quizzically, shaking his helm.

“Ah, no. I trust Flatline’s work, and while his bedside manner today leaves something to be desired-” it was then that he turned to look over his shoulder at the black and red mech as he moved, catching the look that was directed his way.

Well that probably didn’t bode well for him, however he would deal with Flatline later, turning his attention and gaze back to the Seeker.

“-I see no reason to check. Though I am not opposed to giving you a once over, just in case. It is completely up to you, however - should you wish to catch up to your…”

What was it that’d he’d called her?

“Pipchen, I certainly won’t hold it against you.”

Much.