#ask!prompt

Doorwings flare up in concern as the smaller mech moves to the jet’s side, a servo pressing to his forehelm and then cheeks. “Shh, ah’m here... focus on me.. yer okay there.” He murmurs, trying to dissociate the flash backs with soft touch and gentle words. It didn’t always work, but it was a tried and true method until help could arrive. “Wha’s Ratchet’s comm? Ah’ll get ‘im here ta help.”

He looks wistful for a moment, humming as he looks over the Medi-jets frame. “Well, lemme see here.. Your jaw, for starters. It’s strong, defined, makes an obvious silhouette that can be picked out even in the dark. Your paint scheme, especially considering your profession, lights my spark--I am partial to blue, afterall. And Your wings. Wings are beautiful, rugged, handsome things and yours are unique.. I wish to touch them one of these days, if you would allow.”

“Ugh--how many times do I have ta tell ya, watch where you’re go--Oh! Drift! It’s you...” He pauses, pursing his lips. “Still don’t get ya outta fixin’ the scratch on mah paint.. Where’re ya goin’‘ in such a hurry though?”

“...uh--who the frag are ya an’ why don’tcha watch where yer goin--?”

After having the aft grabbing run in with the odd, but kind Megatron, Hotshot had been left to his devices for a while, which included a chance to just look around for a bit. This world was new, interesting--and suddenly something cold and wet is flying right at him and smacking him upside the helm. The doorwingers first response is to whip around with weapons blazing but small ping in his processor stops him.This was one of those topsy turvy worlds.. Megatron was nice, he was still in range of the Decepticon base.. and there was no pain--”Oi! The scrap are you doing?!” He shouted, trying to find the source while kneeling down. Two could play at this game!

“...I ah--” He’s blushing a bit, looking away while he tries to figure out just three things to say. “...your optics, your wings and your hands--” Annd he’s going to bury his face in a datapad, doorwings flicking in clear flustered motions.

He doesn’t know the femme in front of him, he hadn’t even realized someone was there if he’s completely honest--but there’s a touch to his olfactor and the doorwinger is suddenly looking up, finials pointing towards the sky in his surprise. “Uh, can ah help ya?”