33rd Transmission

[heavyweaponsbot]

What is this.

If I see one more "I told you so", or "You are all fools", I will break the one responsible! This is no time for that! You can gloat to your sparks' content after we are out of danger! Hmnf!

There was mention of mirrors. Keep away from them.

And if you are unable to defend yourself, you will go and locate someone who can.

Comments

[medicalofficer]

[Engine rumble or as rumbly as his mini engine gets. He's ahead of you, Ironhide.]

[heavyweaponsbot]

[Well fine, he'll just tailgate you, Ratchet. Like always.]

[medicalofficer]

[He's hoping that they can grab a snack on the way. Go neon golf cart of science!]

[heavyweaponsbot]

[Dear, maybe you should cut back on those snacks. They go right to your hips.

Go golf cart of death!]

[medicalofficer]

[... Are you calling me fat? :|]

[heavyweaponsbot]

[No baby, I love your curves. So much.

... Are we there yet?]

[medicalofficer]

[... :< /stops fueling

It would seem so.]

[heavyweaponsbot]

[ ... /feeds you

In that case, he'll just transform, and look around.] Yeah, this looks dangerous.

[medicalofficer]

[... /doesn't eat. is fat.

Ratchet follows suit, hanging back slightly as he recalibrates his scanners.]

Is that sarcasm, I detect?

[heavyweaponsbot]

[ /forcefeeds. Likes you curvy.

He shrugs, peering inside the darkened restaurant.]

Yeah. Good. You figured it out. C'mon. Need to get your... snack.

[medicalofficer]

[...!

He follows along behind Ironhide, paying more attention to his scanner readings than where he is going.]

It is difficult to tell at times.

[heavyweaponsbot]

[Without really thinking about it, he reaches out to steer Ratchet away from running into a table.]

You know me better than that.

[medicalofficer]

[Ratchet barely notices, muttering his thanks as he continues walking.]

I am attempting to be subtle about that.

[heavyweaponsbot]

[He gives him a light shove, though he's ready to steady him again, if need be.]

You are about as subtle as I am. With that paint job.