High Tide didn’t pay much attention while being watched, his focus still at the gash he was attending. It seemed pretty bad indeed, but he was doing the best he could until a proper medic finished his job.

"... Only when I woke up and didn't know how much time had passed. I've never been in stasis for that long." Not when there was so much else to do. He suppressed a shiver, letting his wings shift and his shoulders roll as if he was still shaking off the chill of cryosleep. "But nothing feels stiff, and I'm walking around as usual. That's what matters."

"that's good to hear."

the words are gruff, as is usual of the old medic, but those optics betray the truth. no matter his tone, the relief is palpable. he knows the horrors blitzwing endured. he's read the stolen files, seen the resulting trauma and stress firsthand. the last thing either of them need is to bring that trauma here.

no matter their stances on this non-existent war, ratchet's clinic is a place for all. it is a safe place for all. even blitzwing. especially blitzwing.

Hefting his belongings back onto his shoulder, and he was trotting down the access ramp for a new plan when he saw ... More con’s boarding another ship. Megatron had dropped orders so clearly all cons on the move are heading to the same place, right? Ain’t that many fights goin’. 

Okay! New plan: Slip on this one, meet up with his unit, don’t let his superiors know, and kill some ‘bots! Easy? Sure! Wing’s up nice and proud, and Seacrest was all but strutting across spaceport to bring up the rear of convo-Why was this grounder blocking his path with a servo. Ah. He has a Manifest. S L A G!

“Seekers don’t get exemptions of tardiness just because you provide air support, Nightrider. Got it?”

“.....” Oh, the little smile that just slipped across his face. “Yessir, Sorry sir.” Seacrest nodded, waggling his wings in what he hoped was ‘I am apologetic’ before prancing up the gangplank into the belly of the ship. He didn’t know why grounders thought anything with wings was a seeker, but between a little mistaken identity or a court marshal for ‘going rogue’, he’d rather the foremost. 

Soundwave stood at a nearby console, bending the machine to his will courtesy of the cables connected to the terminal. For how much TROUBLE the autobots caused them, their encryption left much to be desired. He pointedly ignores the sounds of blaster fire and explosions nearby, trusting in Blitzwing's ability to overpower their unwanted guest.

A final boom trembles through the air and the autobot falls silent...as well as his comrade. An unexpected variable. There was no room for concern in this mission, nor did he ever factor it in, this data needed to be uploaded to their database...but...

But concerned he was, choosing to run over to the prone mech instead, a wordless command to his minicon.

Laserbeak: Scan vitals. Damage assessment. Priority override.

There's a reluctant whir as he disengages from his chest, unhappy in the diversion from their main mission, but unwilling to disobey. As the scan continues, he crouches near, patting his friend on the shoulder before hovering his hand near the injury at his waist.

Tedious and demanding, they think with a wry smile. It takes every iota of their self-control not to lose their temper or lash out the moment an inexperienced, or xenophobic, intern stomps through their laboratory. They do not regret their choice to leave Eukaris behind and join the Decepticons; no, not even now. However, they are growing weary of all this circumventing and posturing.

They wish that they were back in their private laboratory on their ship, The Nexus, rather than amongst the other renegades on Earth. They could even handle going undercover again as Elita-1 over all of this.

Scarlet eyes casually glance at Blitzwing. He certainly isn't the worst 'con to be around, even despite his rapid personality changes.

"Indeed," they hum. "If I have to replace another centrifuge, someone is going to get it." They idly pick up a flask and uncork it before taking a sip. It's labelled H2SO4, and in smaller letters, 'sulfuric acid.' Except it doesn't seem to be burning them. A way to hide their water supply from the pranksters around the base, perhaps? "But it's either this, or rot away in a cave on Eukaris. I'm willing to put up with momentary headaches. Some would say it keeps me young, all the excitement."

Let's compare heights! || Accepting