The way Orion just flops in his grip is worrying, tilting Megatron further into ‘let’s freak out’ territory. His plating flares in protective aggression, and thankfully no one has the foolhardy idea to get in his way as he hurries. “Of course I’m worried, Orion, I find you injured by an utter waste of metal who thought credits! Credits! Were justification for harming you!” There’s a growl in his voice again, yeah, he’s regretting not just stabbing the idiot straight through the spark.
That’d send a message alright, equal parts ‘do not touch my mate’ and ‘i am mentally and emotionally unstable enough to casually murder someone’. Fantastic.
At least there’s clear signage directing him to the nearest clinic, and fortunately for his poor grounder mate, it’s far too close to justify taking flight. Scaring the daylights out of Orion would not help.
“…Your health is more important. I’ll risk them catching sight of me like this.” If he hadn’t been in such a blasted hurry to get to his archivist, he might have remembered to grab the cloak that would have at least disguised his helm and pauldrons. Too late for that now. Hopefully this wouldn’t screw up their attempts to get a house.
The clinic is quiet, if busy. The orange and white mech at the desk boggles at the sight greeting her, of course she recognizes the Decepticon leader. But… she is a medic, and seeing the injured mech in his arms, she quickly decides she can deal with MEGATRON later. “Um… there’s a bay open right back here.” She almost squeaks in fright as he moves, flinching away from the intense stare leveled at her.
However, the moment the smaller mech is laid on the berth, her attention falls to her patient. “What happened to you?”
Oh boy. This is going to result in some fun rumors.
New Kaon isn’t like Iacon. In Iacon, people minded their business and didn’t gossip, at least amongst the working folks. Nobles are nobles, annoying as can be, and aren’t included in this theoretical rumor mill. Here, however, people talk. They talk a lot. It results in a close-knit community that that doesn’t take flack from anyone.
But it also means that, within a few cycles, ever customer at the Archives will know.
That... that makes him oddly giddy.
“I got stabbed.” he giggles, laying flat on the table. He unclips his chestplates to allow Twilight out, so she doesn’t get in the way. “By one of Thunderhoof’s clan.”
Oh, imagine it! He can actually go on dates with his partner. Dinner! Movies! Long walks around the Acid Pits! They can get their dogs and go through walks in the park, holding hands and--
He snaps out of his fantasy as the medic, carefully, peels back the patch. He’s blurry, groggily twitching as he’s poked and prodded with svelte medic’s hands. He likes medic hands. Not as much as he likes claws, but they’re good. Not so good poking at his insides, but that’s something he’s used to at least.
“Mm, it’s a clean wound at least. There’s only one or two veins cut. Your self-repair has already started working, so I’ll apply a permanent patch on top and repair any cut energon lines. Shouldn’t take long to heal.” the medic states, wiping her hands on a cloth.
She waves for a trauma cart to be brought over. He’ll be a simple fix.
“Would you, ah,” she turns her head, slightly, to peer at Megatron. “Like to stay in here for the operation? It’s usually against protocol, but... perhaps it’d be better than putting you in the waiting room.”
Orion, unhelpfully, paws around for Megatron’s hand.
