Helm in the Clouds

Designation: Weaselwing . Faction: Autobot

[shockingdeception]

"What … If I go next time?"

Already volunteering for the task? Shockwave was a bit impressed at the readiness, even if just motivated by the want to be sure the flight frame's position wouldn't get jeopardized....

There's a soft hum as the Prime showed he was considering the suggestion,

"Let's see how you do when we start sparring first. When I'm confident you're up to par both defensively as well as offensively, we can talk of you going into the field. Deal?"

Even if Weasel wasn't ready to be flipped by then, he'd certainly would be primed to take Longarm's directions as law. And he'd at least have the skills that if he did end up having an encounter with Decepticons, he'd survive.

[altocumulusautobot]

The hum was exciting. It wasn't brushed off with an eyeroll, a scoff, or science. That was a sound of someone considering not walking into danger next time. And, at the end of the day, you can always replace your assistant if they fall in battle. You can't always replace the head of the Intelligence Division.

When you're up to par both defensively as well as offensively, we can talk.

Okay. If all it meant to keep Longarm safe on Cybertron was to just throw some punches in a few weeks when the cast comes off and he's cleared? Done.

"Deal. Just, again, blocked out in your calendar so no one thinks I am attacking you" Can ... Can he even go 100% on the Prime? Surely he could just overwhelm him? With speed and feints and pulled punches until the mech calls the match? He is going to get shanked in the mess hall if Longarm steps out of that room with a dent, let alone signs of actual damage like a fist or kick.

[shockingdeception]

He doesn't miss the body language shift, hidden red optic observing all while Longarm's blue ones were on his meal as he scooped up another bite.

Shockwave was very pleased.

Longarm would look up at Weaselwing's last statement and he'd let out a small half laugh around his bite.

"...I suppose I could allow for more field agents to take the leads instead of myself. Depending....."

He concedes, amused at the flight frame's almost demand and wanting to cultivate that attitude in the other mech a little. If Weasel was going to be a good Decepticon assistant, he needed to be able to push back with his own ideas.

At least, to a degree. Shockwave had no desire for a 'Yes - Mech'.

[altocumulusautobot]

I suppose I could allow more field agents.

Perking up at the compromise, whether it was the idea of chasing more short circuiting lights as Decepticon sightings, or the knowledge of mutiny upon his department whenever the Prime left Cybertron, Weaslewing was glad that the mech was making some headway away from the I Alone Must Do This mentality. Field agents should be sent. If it is a Decepticon, they do NOT need the head of Autobot Intelligence getting captured ... Or tortured.

"What ... If I go next time?" He asks, sitting up a little more. "You can't go, because if you get caught, we are screwed. There will be more people fighting for that role than actually doing the job, and they sure as hell won't promote me knowing the most. Meanwhile, while I am slower than a car, the Decepticons are expecting one, which means I can get further by air. I have no issues with cliffs, hills or mountains. I can go up instead of having to go around, and I don't have a loud engine revving all the time to give away my location."

[shockingdeception]

Shockwave can't help a small laugh, making Longarm sound dryly amused as he ate another bite of noodles.

"There is no replacement for me."

He clears his throat after a beat and shrugs a shoulder, attempting to sound more tempered after that,

"That is, Command would be hard pressed to find someone who can handle things like I do quickly. But eventually.... "

He gestures vaguely before quickly continuing on,

"But anyway, you do not have to worry about that. Nothing is going to happen to me, and nothing more will happen to you either. We'll make sure of that."

[altocumulusautobot]

"They don't know that" Weaselwing grumbles around a fork of noodles. "Everyone wants a fancy rank so they can be more important than the next person down the corporate ladder, which means my job is coveted regardless who has your job. And I am pretty sure I am getting demoted to whatever is lower than Janitor"

Still, that promise?

Well, a keen optic might spot a hopeful little rotor wiggle.

Longarm would look after him.

He was safe, as long as the prime was nearby to keep trigger happy idiots at bay. And the fact he is willing to spar with him, despite all his flight static, if only to ensure next time someone squares up Weaselwing walks away unscathed? That was, actually nice.

"Okay .... We are still getting someone else to investigate leads"

[shockingdeception]

A sigh is vented out and he simply nods. Weaselwing had a point, about it being not a pure negative that this instance had been a false alarm. Longarm definitely would've taken much longer if it was an actual Decepticon he had to intercept. Which would've left poor Weasel out to dry.....

".....unfortunately, this is the way things need to be for now. Certain reports of possible 'Con activity do get diverted to field agents. But those like this last one, I prefer to handle directly. "

He explains, letting himself take on a paranoid air as he does. Poor Longarm, has handled things on his own for so long. With no one he trusted enough to give him assistance, until now....

"Maybe once you've healed and had some training, we can discuss who else I could trust to handle such assignments. Hnnn?"

He adds meaningfully

[altocumulusautobot]

"... I think next time there is a mission you have to leave for, I am just going to stock this place like a bunker and just disable the doors" Weaselwing muttered. Thankfully, this stunt would buy him a few months of peace. Longarm personally came down to the cell block, chewed out and dismissed ranking officials on who was not a spy, and took Weaselwing out. That information would spread through the ranks and departments, everyone would nod along that oh yeah, Weaselwing isn't a spy, Longarm said so and he's the head of intelligence so he knows this stuff, and it would take some new interaction or behavior to get the spy rumor going again.

A little helm dropping back against the plush backing of the lounge, and Weaselwing was drumming his good digits on the pillow idly. Could he just say Frag It and get a frame change? Become a ground based vehicle to shut everyone up? Would that make it better? Would that make it worse? Was giving up that sort of freedom worth acceptance among peers?

"... I'd like that. If anything happened, I doubt your replacement as Head would be as nice and I certainly don't want that job" Not like they would ever promote him

[shockingdeception]

Definitely arrange for Weaselwing to be in a unit near his own. Bumping into Longarm constantly would just cement the Prime even more into the flight frame's routine. Within and outside work. And that would increase the familiarity.

Longarm lets out a soft satisfied hum as he takes another measured bite of his meal. This place never disappointed.

"Complete false alarm. All this mess because of a fragging break light on a malfunctioning satellite."

He complains with a huff, Shockwave was indeed still annoyed about it.

[altocumulusautobot]

If only Weaselwing knew...

Bad arm acting as a brace for the container, to better balance it on the pillow, and he's slowly getting the hang of scooping noodles with your non dominant servo. Can fire a blaster with it, but struggling to get a decent mouthful!

"... As much as it sucks in war to not catch a Decepticon? I am kind of glad it was a bust? If it was real, who knows how long you'd have been out in the field for and I would ... Well, I don't know if I'd have even still been here when you got back" Just shy of 48 hours had been enough trouble. If Longarm had been gone days with no communication to lower ranks? He certainly wouldn't have dropped the mission to come 'rescue' his assistant in the grand schemes.

"And I still don't think that our head of intelligence should be the one going on these missions. What if you get captured? Or offline? We'd lose the war, sir."

[shockingdeception]

A warm smile curls along Longarm's mouth, Shockwave pleased at the acceptance to his plan.

"There are several empty units in the same hallway as my own, even. It'll be easy to arrange."

He then lets out a small humored vent, "And you can have the couch if you want it. I've recharged there a number of times, it's not bad either."

Seems that Weasel had endured hard times before. Not a surprise in the slightest considering his alt mode but also his status as an off world bot. Velocitron was infamous for the planet's lack of involvement in things outside their interests, but several individuals from there had joined the war none the less. The pressure on the heli's shoulder's was substantial.

He'd get back to his pedes once the flight frame went to eat, apparently starting with careful bites first. Longarm would finally get his own food and sit himself down with an involuntary tired noise.

What a fucking long ass cycle. Shockwave's agenda to eventually flip his assistant's allegiance was getting pushed forward. So convenient developments. But Primus.

He was tired now. But he had a lot more to do before recharge was even a possibility. And first things first, he needed to refuel. So he started to eat himself now.

[altocumulusautobot]

"I ... A lower floor is fine. I wouldn't want to impose" It was one thing to live in the same complex as Longarm, even though it made sense as his assisstant. It was a another to live on the same level let alone the same wing of the hallway. The Prime already dealt with him for 10 hours a day at work, surely he wouldn't want to bump into him after hours just coming or going? No. A lower floor but same complex would be more than adequate given his station.

Once he gets the first restrained bites down, he can let his fork be a little more bold. He's still only got one servo, so there is only so much twirling or looping noodls through the prongs, but he can't deny that wherever this is from, it sure as hell beats the sandwiches he's been flying out for on lunch break.

"...... I never asked. Your mission. Good news or bad news? With the intel?" Next time, he's just barricading this level and not leaving until Longarm returns unless its an SOS hailing.

[shockingdeception]

".......Well. You are entitled to move to somewhere better. As my assistant."

"You can even get an apartment in the same complex as mine, if you wanted."

The answer comes easily, Longarm watching Weaselwing even as the overwhelmed flight frame can't maintain optic contact.

"I also keep extra cots here, in my office. For late nights. They're not nice sturdy berths but....they work well enough. You can stay here, while we arrange for your things to be moved....But only if you wanted. Of course...."

His tone soft, only trying to be helpful. Coaxing. He places the container of food down before Weaselwing and the napkin wrapped fork besides it. The Prime serving his subordinate, on bended knee. His own food getting cold as Shockwave kept talking.

"These aren't perfect solutions to your unfair predicament, of course. But long term answers will only come with time. The war will be won. This ridiculous tension will be a thing of the past when that happens....."

Megatron would lead them to a brand new tomorrow.

[altocumulusautobot]

"Oh."

That has him perking up in surprise.

He had kind of assumed that even with the promotion, that he couldn't move. First of all, you'd have to go inspect properties and then apply in an Anti-Flier environment, of which he assumed he'd get knocked back. Then you have the double whammy of collegues knowing you were packing would count that as suspicious and flag it.

"I ... Would like that? The complex part" If Longarm is the one who has ordered and issued the move, it wouldn't have a consequence for him. He's a Prime, he's the head of intelligence, everyone would just a salute and do it. "But I, uh, I don't need a cot. Pretty sure as soon as I get fuel in me I am just going to black out on this couch for a few hours. I have slept in worse places than a study berth" Roof tops were actually pretty secure when the paranoia hit. No fire escapes meant no access via grounders. Pillow and a blanket in the subspace, he could roost quite easily.

"I hope so. I feel like I'm failing in promises I made back home. The war being over would be nice" Weaselwing admits, digits curling around the fork and forcing himself to start on just a few noodles, rather than the heaping mouthful his tanks are rioting for.

[shockingdeception]

A quick chat and tip basically thrown at the fuel delivery guy before he's basically tossed back into the elevator. That was then set to lock once the bot was out of it so no one could surprise visit Intelligence for a while, at least while they ate.

The smell of food has his almost drooling, he's so hungry. He'd been able to forget about it while taking care of Weaselwing, but now Longarm was reminded of his very mortal needs. Bags are deposited onto his office desk and once more he's taking the time to get Weasel set up comfortably first. It was just practical.

"......well, you definitely will have some time off to recover. You've more than earned that."

He starts, arranging the couch pillows to act as an impromptu table so the smaller mech could comfortably eat one handed.

"Do you not want to be at home....?" Longarm questions.

[altocumulusautobot]

You'll have time off.

Okay, he had a few books he could pass the time with, maybe a few shows too, but he has a feeling that he will mostly be sleeping of medication and pain till he's got a functioning arm again.

Until, Longarm brings up the Big Question. Did he not want home.

"It's ... Not really home." Weaselwing admits, lifting up his arm to help Longarm in moving cushions so that he can sit up to eat, idly picking at the lint and tassels as a means of where else to look. "Like, I am grateful that for working in Autobot high command that we are given accommodations as part of service, even with a desk job, but I share a building with colleagues of different departments and ranks, collegues who's friends I put in the infirmary. They've never done anything malicious outside their standard bullying but ... I don't know if I should be pushing furniture in front of the door now? Are they going to SWAT me at 2am? Are they going to graffiti my door? I was supposed to come here, help the Autobots win the war so my family can come see the Cybertron they were raised on, but instead I am a threat if I stay and a traitor if I so much as look at the price of an off world shuttle... This is all very new, and, the scariest any of their words have been."

[shockingdeception]

The triumphant little grin that spreads on Longarm's face is genuine, he'd pulled the correct thread to get Weaselwing to agree. If nothing else, the idea to not get hurt again would certainly be enticing to the currently injured flight frame.

"Done and done.~"

At just that moment, there's movement at the elevator. Doors opening and someone wanting entry. Longarm's attention snapping to his intercom immediately-

Their food was here.

"Wait here, I'll get it."

He says quickly as he leaves, not wanting the delivery both to get anywhere near his offices.

[altocumulusautobot]

Helm snapping to the side at the faint ding of the elevator coming to a halt, aware they still needed clearance to get any further but his armour is still slowly puffing out as he sits up from his little 'nest' in the couch corner. Seems painkillers aside the little flight frame is still very much on edge even as Longarm quickly breezes past him to intercept.

He doubts that throwing any furniture at the windows would have it break as a means of an escape route as the balcony by his desk was really the only true means of out for him if he was to bail. But, his servo is hovering at his hip as he listens.

While he knows Longarm wouldn't turn him in over false allegations, if there is more of them than there are the Prime, that might not matter. He's already hurt, but he thinks he could still make it to the balcony, smashed door or otherwise, and jump before they even begin thinking how to stop him. They are used to grounders. Not someone flying overhead, quite literall- Oh. It's the fuel.

Armour slowly slicking back to his frame as he watched Longarm with takeout bags, and he is sinking back into the cushion he's pulled closer earlier.

"... Am I going to heal at home?" Basically, is he barricading the doors and windows of his standard issue apartment, and living on the balcony?

[shockingdeception]

Two steps forward, one step back, it seemed. But Shockwave is hardly discouraged, having considered there'd be initial resistance to the idea. Longarm only gives a reassuring smile, it going slightly crooked.

"As if it's that easy to even scratch my paint at all. While you did indeed win, I am in a whole other league than your opponents were."

Shockwave could handle more than any anemic little Prime would be able to anyway. Even from a flight frame.

"I understand your hesitance, but I wouldn't suggest it if couldn't be done safely."

He continues, gesturing his hand in reassurance.

"Besides, while you were the victor you've also sustained injuries. Next time, I want you to win and not get a scratch yourself. That'll send a real message, I think.~"

[altocumulusautobot]

I am in a whole other league.

Well, that ... is true. You didn't get named a Prime or Magnus if you were squishy in combat of the mind or frame. No, smarts would only take you so far in the world of rankings so, Longarm has a very good point, that not everyone can just be slugged into submission with a break room table.

A glance down at himself; the cracked cockpit glass, the array of dents, the cast on his arm; and Weaslewing can't deny that he did come away from the fight damaged. While all parties will require recovery time, that seed planted that next time he won't certainly gets some pondering. How satisfying would it be, to walk away from his next spat without a scuff or scratch? After all of the insults, the jeers, the pranks, the fearmongering?

".......... Fine. But, I want it booked into your schedule under Sparring so that if anyone sees they don't immediately open fire on me. And I'm wrapping my servos"

[shockingdeception]

Weaselwing got it all in one, really. It didn't take much processor power to "connect the dots". Resentments and such would've been inevitable....

"Well said, I'm afraid....." Longarm concedes with a put upon sigh.

"Which means, we'll just have to be ready for more of the same. Because I doubt the fall out from this will curb much of the ingrained frame envy and petty competitiveness that's cropped up in the ranks."

He continues, sounding as if he'd just come to a decision.

"We're going to do battle training- after you've healed, of course."

[altocumulusautobot]

A slow, exasperated sigh, and Weaselwing is giving a little tut as Longarm's comment rings true in that this was not going to help the bravado of his collegues moving forward. Granted, Crankshaft and Gearshift might be less incentivized to start scrap with him given he wiped the cafeteria floor with them in full view of their peers, and hit one of with a break room table.

We are going to do battle training.

Ah. Hmm. No. And there we go, recoiling in on himself to be very small on the couch.

"Um. Sir? I can't do that. I already get enough trouble daily with people thinking I'm a decepticon. I can not swing at let alone scratch the paint of the current Prime because I will be back in that cell faster than either of us can blink. I passed boot camp, I am fine. It was a two on one, I won, and it took larger superiors to break it up. I'm ... I'm good" You are going to have to pitch it better that that. Also, sparring involves physical contact of mock blows, and he does not need his static making an appearance mid 'fight'.

[shockingdeception]

Careful observation of the smaller mech's actions. The ease with pill popping was interesting, but not a focus. The slow ease in Weaselwing's frame was. The almost inaudible ex-vent followed by slumping just that bit more into the couch, getting visibly more comfortable instead of discreetly checking exit routes....

Trust. He was earning trust.....Good.

"Hmph, my looking for new admin was supposed to be a need to know basis to begin with. I knew things would get heated...."

And the fact that Longarm had only wanted Weaselwing for the job, anyway. But he'd had to do the whole ceremony of opening a position and such to hide that fact. And then the rest of upper management thought that Longarm was "finally" going to fill ranks-

His frustrated tone wasn't entirely false. Damn Autobot bureaucracy-

".....my apologies, Weaselwing. Seems this whole mess is my fault, in the end...."

Those cherubic features give a soft, conferned frown. Tone turning beleaguered and apologetic.

"Mismanagement on the position announcement for my notoriously closed Department mixed with the jealousy and undeserved animosity your former coworkers had for you...and then I left you alone. Assuming professionalism from mechs who I know always score higher in aggression on their evaluation tests than the rest in other departments ours deals with less..."

He just shakes his helm. Concerned, soft Longarm.

[altocumulusautobot]

"It might have been. But I get sent up instead of Brakecheck to drop off some reports to you, a few days later the application portal is closed, no one had an interview or a comm to say they were hired on the spot, and then I am being moved to a higher floor. Your floor. It didn't take people long to connect the dots." Weaselwing sighs, leaning from side to side to help make his rotors more comfortable behind him as he let Longarm potter about. "I think they are just masking the fact they are mad I am not limited to traffic or roads when I am running errands for you, or that I process data faster than them on all the tests, and they are worried how that looks if the helicopter can get this job, what that means for them in terms of promotion"

[shockingdeception]

Probably not the usual choice for an overworked department head to have for his sweet stash....but Longarm was hardly the usual bot.

Not that anyone actually knew that...

He's satisfied that Weaselwing has no objections to the snack. And hands over a tablet and some water for the flight frame to take down as well.

He pauses on the way back to his desk chair, turning to look back, when his assistant asks his obviously burning question.

Why not suspect Weasel of being a spy?

Well, the honest answer wasn't an option to give.....for now...

So.....

"Decepticons and Autobots alike come in all sizes and frame types. Flyers, ground vehicles, and even marine transformers. Those who accuse you are the types that have barely been off-world, if ever; have never been tested if they can really tell friends from enemies."

He leans against the desk lightly, giving WW a sympathetic look that wasn't entirely manufactured.

"It's actions that make a bot. Not the alt-mode. Or things he can't control about himself. One look at how you are, Weaselwing, it's obvious you aren't a Decepticon. Or even a petty schemer. Those old coworkers of yours, though? Slagheads."

It was the blind leading the blind around here. If it didn't work to Shockwave's advantage so well, Longarm would actually do something about it. But it did leave those like Weaselwing on the outs...

Again. To Longarm's advantage.

[altocumulusautobot]

Tablet placed in his bad palm alongside the sweets, free hand taking the offered glass, and he's pretty good at popping them all in his mouth for water and a sugary chaser to nibble any rancid after tastes of pill hitting taste receptors. Someone has had practise self medicating.

It's actions that make a bot. Not the alt-mode.

The balcony was right there. He wouldn't have gotten far if this did turn out to be some reverse stockholme Slip that you are the spy, I will be kind kind of interrogation. So, the fact that despite it all; the rumor mill, the war effort, the stigma, the frameism, Longarm truly believed Weaselwing a genuine and honest mech, guilty of nothing but squaring up on a bully, gets a slow exhale released he didn't know he'd been holding.

"........ If you think they are Slagheads now, work the department with them from a 9-5. Everyone had been bragging about applying for this role the moment it was announced. They did not like the announcement it was filled and they did not like by who" Weaselwing mutters, finding one of the little decorative cushions to place in his lap to rest his arm on, and make himself comfortable at one end. Small, but comfortable.

[shockingdeception]

Treated bots like beings, huh? You'd think that'd be the standard behavior on this side of the war....

"I have a small sweet tooth. Nice pick me up on long nights...."

Longarm explains as he opens a drawer and grabs up one of the wrapped goodies he stashed there. They were all the particular flavor that Shockwave preferred, so hopefully Weaselwing didn't mind it either.

"Judging from the size and color of the tablets, you should be taking them at least twice a day. So I don't think there's anything wrong with that."

He mutters as he walks back over, opening the treat wrapper so the smaller mech wouldn't have to struggle with it one handed.

"I'll double check the medical report later to be sure, though."

[altocumulusautobot]

Scooting slightly to pull himself upright a little more, leaning to see just what Longarm intended to pull out of the drawer in terms of his snacky stockpile, and ... Not what he was thinking. When the prime said A Small Sweet Tooth, he expected he was being humble, and had something along the lines of chocolates or mineral eclairs or energon jellies stashed away.

Instead? They were the kind of not quite gummies not quite hard candies of citrust fruits. Taking the offered box once it had thankfully been opened for him, or he'd have tried to subtly chew it open when unobserved, and Weaselwing is shaking a couple into his bad palm for a bowl and picking one up to nibble on. Okay, not overly tart. He can see why the Prime like's them.

"Sir? ... Why didn't you believe everyone downstairs? Altmode aside, my time on Cybertron has been nothing but accusations and conspiracy theories. I don't do things The Vehicle Way which makes me an outsider. I shock everyone who brushes me. And I can't even go back home to Velocitron because leaving is apparently even more suspicious than staying."

[shockingdeception]

"I'm no medic. I've just picked up a few skills along the way...but glad to hear I've made a good impression thus far.~"

Longarm replies with a dry smile as he fits the brace onto Weaselwing's arm with slow care. Shockwave very much making sure his fingers made contact with the smaller mech again and-

Pain! Exhaustion! HUNGER! Pain!Pain!PAIN!PA-

Yeah. His hypothesis was seeming to be correct. The flight frame had an ability. One he seemed wholly ignorant of, to boot!

".....and as long as you take it with one of the energon goodies I keep at my desk, I'll give you a tablet now."

He had no syringes, but even feeling that fracture second hand had Longarm wanting to take some pain meds. Or at least rub at his arm to get the phantom sensation to leave his sensors quicker. He refrains and instead goes to get the treat and the pill whether his assistant agrees or not.

[altocumulusautobot]

Well, Longarm Prime would find five stars for a service review just for how careful the mech was being in aiding guiding his busted wrist into a brace, and carefully adjusting the straps around it to keep it snug but supportive.

"It helps you treat people like beings, not things' He says as he draws his arm back, digits giving a slow flex to test his range of motion with his wrist stabilised and, good to know he would still have some grabbing ability. He could probably type with bobbing his arm up and down to hit keys, but he's not hitting his 100 words per minute.

"You have a stash?" Weaselwing says with an amused but tired little scoff, having not once assumed the mighty Longarm Prime would have a little stockpile of 'goodies' on hand. But, he's not complaining if it gets him pain relief asap.

"May I have another with fuel if it does nothing for the pain?" Actually , what was his dosage? Don't mind him picking up the little bottle to rotate it for any medical jargon. Wonderful. Blank bottle.

[shockingdeception]

"Not a burger."

He confirms. A meal that was easy to eat one handed- and easily digestible for a hungry frame.....

Once more at the Intelligence Deparment, Longarm leads the way to his own office and has Weaselwing sit on the spare small sofa seating that's in the room. The bit of furniture comfortable enough to rest upon, but rarely used.

In the end, he orders pasta. Not wanting to go to the mess for food, or order anyone from below to bring anything up to them. Should be easy enough for Weasel to eat, right?

Once that's complete, he grabs up the brace and the pill bottle from where he'd placed them on his desk.

".....this says you should take these with a meal, so we'll save the pills for when lunch arrives. For now, the brace."

He concludes, setting the bottle aside for now and then moving to kneel in front of where the flight frame was seated. So he could easily reach to strap the thing on.

"Hold out your arm for me." He requests while opening the thing up to put it on.

[altocumulusautobot]

Longarm was going to learn quite quickly how much fuel this little helicopter can consume when his tanks are empty enough. He might find his own lunch missing, in that regard. Tiny, he may be, but he's only fuel efficient when he isn't in a 32 hour fight or flight mode.

Stepping out of the lift into a familiar space once again, smothering the little voice whispering about this all being a trap, and Weaselwing is promptly sinking into the little gestured lounge and reclining back as far as the cushions will let him with a shaky exhale.

"Should have grabbed a syringe for later"

Okay, yep. Adrenaline tanking, and now he is really starting to feel that fracture. Surely one tablet before food arrives wouldn't be so terrible, if he takes more with the meal?

"......" So many people would riot if they could see the Prime, moving to the floor to put a wrist brace on a lowly flight frame.

"Much medical training outside the bootcamp 101?" He asks, mindful of the angle of his servo as he extends his arm, trying to hold it out over the opened brace so all Longarm has to do is lift it slightly and affix it into place.

".............. You'd make a good medic. You're nice. And actually care"

[shockingdeception]

"We can handle that when we go back up."

Longarm nods to his assistant before turning to the nearest nervous medic.

"I'll be taking a brace with the painkillers, thank you. And if that's all, we'll be on our way."

Even with everyone going out of their way to be sure not to touch Weaselwing, it was obvious the flight frame was still on edge. And, frankly, Shockwave was just as eager to leave as well. The sooner the pair of them were out of public optic anywhere, the sooner things would begin to die down.

And he also wanted to investigate what the frag was going on with the flight frame further. And that would have to be done in private.

With brace, painkillers, and a diagnosis of thankfully mild injuries, they could leave. And soon enough were back in the elevator, headed right back up to the relative "safety" of Longarm's department.

"I'll put the brace on you when we get back to my office. It's best if someone else does it, instead of you trying to one handed....."

A handy enough excuse to make physical contact again....

"And I'll order delivery for lunch. Can't have you keeling over on me, either."

Having not refueled since before leaving to investigate that now false lead, Shockwave found himself feeling rather hungry. But business first. Then a well deserved meal...

[altocumulusautobot]

Flight visor still cracked and flickering in places atop his head, but given how the helm still turns to keep someone moving in his field of vision, it’s still working despite what is probably one hell of a distorted field. He will disconnect it in the safety of the lift or office, but he’s using every motion detection to his advantage.

“Yessir” it’s a good point. Trying to wrangle Velcro strips and magnetic clasps with his non dominant hand without jostling the wrist is just easier if someone else does it. Someone not one of these medics.

Longarm has given no indications that taking him out of the cells was a trap, mostly from the lack of questions that could incriminate, and the first point being medical care, but he’s … naturally a little skittish. Once burnt, twice shy.

“… Not a burger” He says as he eagerly hops out of the chair if it means getting out of here. The constant combat of cleaning solution combatting the smell of exposed energon is not helping his nerves here. But no burger. He’s got one good hand, and burgers or sandwiches are very much a two hands job … maybe just the burger. He could do sandwich halves. Honestly, he’d inhale anything at this point. An afternoon, whole evening and most of the morning? Ravenous