October 03, 2011, 8:20 PM
(Repair Depot, Iacon)
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First Aid sits up on 'his' berth (he's certainly occupied it long enough, which is getting to be absolutely maddening), optics blinking on and off a few times. He looks around the repair bay, apparently startled out of recharge by something. After a klik, he shakes his head, fans spinning back down, and scoots back to lean against the end of the berth with a sigh. "Streetwise was here, he left, I guess?" He asks, just loudly enough to be heard by Ratchet, occupied with some other task in the repair bay.
Ratchet looks up from grinding off the burrs from the edges of First Aid's new faceplate. "Oh," he replies distractedly, "Yes. He was." He finishes his finishing and appraises the new faceplate, testing it with the new visor fitting over the optic slots. He vents a sigh as he prepares to make the installation. "All right, First Aid. How have you been feeling?" he asks as he sits down next to Aid's berth.
"Fine," First Aid says with a little shrug. "Groove's been here a lot keeping me company- that's helped a lot." He smiles, which looks very strange indeed without faceplates, and shifts on the berth. "A little frustrated- the supply closet is a mess, NPanaCea can't find anything and I want to go fix it. I just want my hands fixed and things back to normal." He huffs a little bit at the last, irritated, and annoyed at himself for /being/ irritated.
"I see," Ratchet says drily. A huff of air moves as his engine revs. "Because you're expecting to jump up and get back to work, I take it...?" he asks as he starts carefully fitting the edges of First Aid's faceplates into their slots before tightening the securing screws to lock it in place.
First Aid tilts his head back to allow Ratchet easier access to the screws under his chin, staying quiet until the faceplate is in place and he can tilt his head forward again. He blinks a few more times- it feels a bit strange, but that's just having gotten used to the feeling of air on the bare internals. "Yes? I mean, I know I'm supposed to take it easy, but the supply closet, and you and NPanaCea are so busy, and it wouldn't take very long and it's not hard work?" His optics glow a little bit brighter.
Striding in, A rather tense looking Streetwise glances about, turning to make his way towards First Aid. He slows though, seeing the Doctor there and not wishing to interrupt as he stops a few paces away, waiting patiently, hands behind his back.
Ratchet looks at First Aid for a long moment before responding. "So... no," he replies before he starts sliding the visor into place. "You're off the duty roster for the forseeable future, because I say so." His optics glow a little bit brighter as he stares the intern down. "Got that?" The visor fits into its socket with a soft click.
First Aid frowns. "Off the- totally? But Ratchet, please? Just half shifts? Or something? THere's got to be something I can do!" First Aid tries not to whine, semi-successfully.
Streetwise can't help but snicker a little bit, moving up on the opposite side of First Aid - out of the way. "Come on, you can spend time catching up with your brothers then." he points out with a smile.
First Aid glances at Streetwise. "I've /been/ catching up with you guys since I got back. Well, when I'm not recharging, anyway, and you've got to be tired of me by now." He huffs again.
Ratchet frowns. "You," he gestures to Streetwise, "Can wait somewhere else while I work." He finishes working on the faceplates and visor and moves the stool to First Aid's hands and arms. "And I said off," he tells First Aid again before he holds up one arm to inspect the damaged areas more closely. Ratchet then gets up to go check on the custom replacements he and Wheeljack had been preparing.
A start, and Streetwise lifts both hands placatingly, backing up again "Sorry sorry." he mumbles a little bit as he moves out of the way, far out of the way, but not before responding "That's part of being brothers innit? Annoying each other?"
"Alright, Ratchet," First Aid replies, watching Ratchet examine the damage to his left arm closely, and sitting very still until Ratchet releases it again. He glances at Streetwise again. "I guess, but you've surely got better things to be doing. And isn't your dad going to be mad that you've been here so long?" He looks away again, straightening up on the berth to crane his neck, trying to see what Ratchet's doing across the repair bay.
Ratchet frowns as he examines the replacements and considers whether it might be more prudent to replace the hands wholesale, rather than reinstalling only a few fingers on that involved limb. He returns to the berthside with two replacement hands and starts freeing destroyed structures in favor of providing clean connections to the new hands. He looks at First Aid and Streetwise with a quirked optic ridge as he pick-pick-picks at First Aid's arm.
"Nothing better to do but play Cyber Chess with Tiny really. " he pauses at mention of his father "He is, yeah. I'm working on what I'll say to him when the time comes." just slide on past that "I have it under control. THIS family's more important now."
First Aid tenses, keeping his optics focused carefully on what Ratchet's doing, although he doesn't flinch or pull away, and his vent cycles stay carefully even. He glances up after a breem or so to watch Ratchet's expression while he's working before looking back down, and doesn't reply to Streetwise at all. After another few minutes of uncomfortable silence, he asks another question. His voice is quiet and a little uncertain. "How- how long until I /can/ come backon duty, Ratchet?"
"Oh," Ratchet replies at length, "I'd say a minimum of two orns. I'd like you _completely_ stable before I have you working long shifts alone, thank you," he says ascerbically as he finishes picking at this arm and starts reconnecting wiring for the correct hand. "Not to mention that you might have a little bit of disorientation with this new set of servos you're getting," he continues in a dry tone as he works.
"If all goes well, Doctor..." pipes up Streetwise, breaking into the conversation. There was nothing said about being quiet "Can investigations continue as to the lack of transforming in himself and myself?"
"Disorientation?" First Aid is entirely focused on what Ratchet is saying and not paying any attention to Streetwise at all. "This- I thought this was just going to replace what I, um, lost? It's upgrading it, too?" He flinches slightly as the wires are tweaked, despite the fact that his sensory network is still turned down on his extremities. "I was just hoping... the supply closet, all the shelves- it's not hard work! It'd, um, be good for my dexterity?" He watches Ratchet's face closely for any clue as to the senior medic's feelings about the hopeful suggestion.
Ratchet huffs softly. "The problem is that with you, it's never *just* anything. It's not going to stay sorting the supply closet, and you know it," he says, a keen look in his optics. "I can, of course, appoint Lifeline to help keep your restrictions," he says as he finishes connecting wiring to this hand. "Seeing as you're working with an upgraded set of servos, and all..."
Streetwise watches the interaction, and waves his hand a moment, turning to stride out - taking a call? Sudden illness? He doesn't say, but he decides to leave his question for later.
"Bye Streetwise," First Aid calls after his brother, a little distracted and still mostly focused on watching Ratchet work, offering a small smile to his mentor. No, it /wouldn't/ stay just the supply closet, but if Lifeline supervising means he can work even a little, it's worth it, and he has a little bit more practice getting around her than Ratchet, plus she's not in the repair bay all the time.... "If that means I can help, that'd be great. How much of an upgrade?"
Ratchet snorts at the eager tone. "Why don't you tell me?" he asks as he removes the sensor blocks on that hand. He moves to the other side of the berth to take up picking and removing equipment on that hand and arm as well.
First Aid twists the new hand, flexing his fingers experimentally as Ratchet removes the sensor block. The rush of data as new sensors come online is overwhelming, and takes him by surprise even as he's expecting it, freezing him in place. "A big upgrade?" He says. His tank churns uncertainly as he tries to sort things out, carefully holding his hand still for the moment, and he vents hard, determined to manage it before Ratchet decides that he needs /more/ time to adapt or deems the upgrade too much of an upgrade.
Ratchet finishes preparing the other arm for the new hand and starts connecting wires. It's slow going, but eventually he has all the connections made and the hand attached... and then he drops the sensor block on that hand as well. "Not really all that big," he says as he shifts the flow. "But big enough, I suppose," he says, eyeing First Aid critically.
"Bigger than I was expecting," First Aid says, not /quite/ yanking his hand away as soon as Ratchet removes the sensorblock. It's not as bad this time, and his tank settles down after a couple of kliks. He wiggles his fingers experimentally, turns his hands over and examines them with apparent fascination. "Thanks, Ratchet," He adds after a moment, looking up. "and Wheeljack too- I'll send him a message." He curls and uncurls his fingers a few times, watching the articulated plating and tiny cables shift with intense focus.
"Feel free," Ratchet says in an amused tone. "I'll leave you alone to get acquainted with your new instrumentation," he notes as he clears away debris from the side of the berth and heads off to send it to the slag bin. "And recharge, fraggit!" he orders as he walks away.
"Okay," First Aid replies with a small smile. He admires his new hands for another second, and then twists on the berth to retrieve- for himself, thank you very much!- the datapad that Streetwise left for him in return for the other mystery novel. He looks up for a second, watching as Ratchet walks away before looking back down at the datapad and beginning to compose a message to Wheeljack.