[doctah, doctah, doctah.]
[patchwork is sketching some planets in his notepad, seeming a little downtrodden.]
[a wild curbstomper appears, hauling a box of chemical weapons.]
CS: hey, big guy! need some help finding a place to put my tools. any suggestions?
PW: anywhere.
CS: nice, thanks. [he shuffles in, placing the box on an empty counter.] hey, you ain't lookin' too bright there, chap. how many stormclouds've you got floatin' around your helm?
PW: ...one. had a nightmare.
CS: mind delving a bit deep into the specifics for me?
PW: no. saw bonecrusher on the operating table, rusting like how ironhide had in dark of the moon, but slower. i didn't know how to save him. feel terrible about it.
CS: mmm. that's gotta smart, eh? i'm sure you'll recover smoothly. everyone always does around 'ere... strange, if you ask me.
[patchwork nods in agreement.]
CS: need a cube?
PW: that'd be nice.
CS: alright. back in a flash. [curbstomper exits patchwork's office.]
[with curbstomper gone, patchwork continues sketching planets.]
[...it takes a bit, but curbstomper returns, with a cube of strawberry energon for patchwork.]
PW: thanks.
CS: not a problem. you enjoying sketching planets?
PW: it's a nice break from humanoids.
CS: so it would seem. no other thoughts aside from bonecrusher meltin' in your nightmare?
PW: ...hope it doesn't happen for real. not much else. just tryin' to figure out how to draw these damned rings on saturn. never was good at depth perception with this type'a scrap.
CS: try sketchin' a record. always works for me.
PW: mm.
CS: ...alright, i'll leave you to it. have fun, doctor.
[patchwork nods, patting curbstomper's shoulder to bid him farewell.]
[curbstomper heads out.]
