crowgohome:

bettsplendens:

crowgohome:

crowgohome:

bettsplendens:

Spinflask tended to hyperfocus on his work. Most chemists did. Having explosive blood tended to make one rather cautious when working with corrosive chemicals and fire. 

However, most chemists probably did not make a sound like a robotic duck being stepped on if someone were to unexpectedly re-occupy their chair. But Spinflask did, and had, and it was adorable. 

Looking a bit like his thought processes had shorted out, Spinflask blinked and automatically placed both servos against warm plating, staring up at the bot who’d distracted him in such a strange manner. Even if he’d noticed the approach, the last thing he would have expected was being picked up out of his chair and then placed back- in someone else’s lap. 

After a moment’s staring, he shook his helm and blinked hard, seeming to reset himself just enough to speak. “Um- hello? Can- can I help you?” 

Having lived the majority of her life around those who lived more for their work than they did for themselves, Shard was going to make sure Spinflask took care of himself. Even in such a short time period of being around him, she had picked up on some of his less than stellar eating habits.

And as such, she was going to take advantage of her position of familiarity to manhandle him in such a way that he wouldn’t be able to easily ignore her or make excuses to keep working. 

Keeping a stern look on her face was far more difficult than necessary with the noises he was making. She completely is not going to save that audio clip for later, no not at all. Nor save a picture of his utterly baffled expression looking up at her, he was far too cute for his own good, the scamp’s already catching at her sparkstrings without even trying.

At the feel of small fingers gently placed against her chasis her engines give out a happy little purr, what can she say, it’s a weakness of hers. In return she smooths large hands down his sides to calm ruffled plating and sooth any worry.

A small huff of laughter escapes her, breaking her professional veneer. “Ya can help me by drinking this,” she waggles a small cube of fuel in his line of sight. “When was the last time ya ate or had a break? A proper break that is.” Arching her optic ridge and giving him a pointed look.

Gently she pushes her field against his with light concern/fondness flowing through it, running a single hand down his back, careful to keep things loose so he doesn’t feel trapped. The two sips he took were heartening, but was still so little fuel. Barely repressing a sigh, she looks him over as he studiously avoids her gaze, fidgeting with the still nearly full cube. “Recharge is resting, which you should be doing on a regular basis.” She fights to keep a reproachful tone out of her voice. “Still, it’s good to hear you’re doing that, sleep loss doesn’t do anyone any good.” Here her field flickers with thankfulness/gratitude to lend weight to her words, it’s always good to reinforce these behaviors.

He’s hiding things, it’s plain to see. Trauma most likely, a bot without some sort of emotional scaring these days is an extremely rare thing indeed. Her hands itch to fix and she stamps down on the urge, she’s got the feeling pushing with this one will result in him only closing himself off at best. And she doesn’t have the type of relationship with him or personal knowledge to begin demanding actions from him.

“A lot of bots don’t do well idle nowadays,” she allows, quietly, thoughtfully. Idly she lightly drums her fingers against his back. Then she shakes her head with a little snort of laughter. “Yeah, Duo are quite the, ah, handful. Certainly keep ya distracted though.”

Lightly grumbling, she shifts underneath him, easily lifting the both of them into a more comfortable position, contemplating how to approach the situation in a quick manner before he must be occupied again.

“Maybe correlate some fueling with lighter work? Keep ya busy, keep ya fed?” She slowly makes the offer. During all this she makes no effort to force eye contact either. She starts to say one thing, bites her glossa and says another. “While I’m around the area, I could always grab ya while I’m on break and get ya out into some fresh air? Clear the head a bit, yeah?”

Oh, so that’s not a break. Spinflask’s old supervisors counted it as one, but he’s more inclined to trust a medic as to what actually counts. Especially a medic who likes when he does healthy things- Spinflask’s own field lifts into hers, acknowledgement/greeting/friendiness, and he lifts his optics a bit at the positive emotions and friendly gestures. Still not meeting her optics, and it’s unlikely that he will, but he’s no longer actively looking away. Shard is being friendly, and he likes it. 

Delicate servos tap-tap lightly on the edges of the cube and he takes another couple of sips, contemplating the suggestion. And waiting to be sure she’s done speaking, he is very determined not to interrupt her. He doesn’t interrupt people who are speaking, it makes them upset with him. He especially doesn’t want to upset Shard, she’s… nice, and she’s concerned, and he likes her. 

“I… do like the idea, but I… especially don’t do well on my own when I’ve fueled recently. And I’m very easily distracted from fueling, I never have much of an appetite. Side effect of most emetics,” he shrugs, not quite catching what he’s just implied. 

He’s too busy trying not to think about the things that creep into his mind when he has a full tank, the thoughts about how they never had full tanks, how I don’t deserve one. Because nausea is one of the first effects of dark energon contamination, the frame’s desperate attempts to get rid of the toxin. None of his test subjects could ever keep anything down. The guilt sinks in deep when his tank is full, so sometimes he… just doesn’t fill his tank. 

But he does have an idea. He’d like to fuel, after all. “Could I, perhaps… come with you? I’d rather like some conversation, and I can potentially help you with something you need done. I have no medical training, but I learn quickly, I have nimble servos, and I am familiar with how to prevent contamination of equipment. I… do have some time, none of my current tasks are urgent,” Spinflask ventures, glancing up at Shard’s face- and flinches slightly at her expression. 

What’d he do?

She rumbles her engines in encouragement at the slight lift of his helm, sending hopefully pleasant vibrations through his slight frame. Her field gently entwines with his in approval/calm/happiness at his efforts.

Briefly she is distracted by the sight of his slime fingers tapping against the cube. Then she sees the way he’s carefully listening to her, holding his entire being still in a way that makes her think is more than just basic respect. Slowly she files away all the details she musters, adding them to his medical file.

Emetics. She stiffens at the word and stares incredulously down at him, her hands freezing mid stroke along his frame and her field briefly jittering before smoothing out into a more professional sort of calm. Her thoughts stall then jump a beat, reviewing all she’s been learning of him. While the literal definition means a medicine you take to induce vomiting, the word could really describe anything that makes you throw up. Does he have a physical issue, is it an environmental thing, or some sort of bulimic tendencies? Hell, she’s heard of a few bots outright allergic to energon itself, so with the lack of information she has, she must tread carefully.

At the flinch she gathers herself and forces her body into a looser posture, easing her hands back down. Cautiously she lightly trails the fingertips of her right hand along the side of his face, curling her torso down to bring her face a little closer to his, asking wordlessly for him to look at her but no more pressure than that. “It would, perhaps, be wise to seek attention for your nausea, at least make eating somewhat pleasant no matter how little you fuel.” She has a feeling this won’t work and possibly be met with resistance. If it is an eating disorder, people tend to fiercely cling to habits like this, out of a sense of control usually, but she’s not going to assume things here, he’s already revealed a fair amount about himself and the last thing she wants is him shutting down.

A great heave of a sigh escapes her. “And I would like you to join me. It would actually be nice to have a non-medic in the bay, and someone who knew what they were doing around the place, too.” She leans back and drags her hand slowly down her face, her other hand still loosely cupping Spinflask. Helping him in any meaningful and long lasting way may just be beyond her scope at the moment, a fact that does not help her current mood. “If you enjoy the work enough, we can set up a schedule for you to come with me so we don’t interrupt your own work.”

She’s noticed. Spinflask’s frame tenses, smooth armor clamping down in a protective gesture, clearly expecting anger. 

But Shard isn’t angry. Or, if she is, she’s hiding it very well. Visibly relieved, Spinflask relaxes and leans his helm into the touches to his face, optics flicking up to hers for an instant. Oh. Shard seems concerned more than anything, which… feels interesting. Not terribly good, though, he doesn’t want to make her concerned. 

Lifting his optics to meet hers as firmly as he can, he takes a long gulp of the energon, trying to prove- something. He’s not sure what. Maybe just that he can. “It’s- no, it- it’s not physical. It’s chemical. Not- not anything truly harmful, just-” 

The chemical formula he rattles off is one Shard is probably familiar with. It’s a medic’s formula, after all. Not inherently harmful, he’s made sure of that, but it does tend to cause a pronounced loss of appetite if used frequently. That… doesn’t explain why he’s doing this, though. And he needs to explain, doesn’t he? He’s just accidentally confessed to taking an emetic frequently enough to kill his appetite. He should… explain what it is. Hopefully without sounding like some sort of lunatic who takes emetics for fun. 

So he tries to explain. Somehow, it comes out as “I don’t want to”, in the softest voice he’s ever heard out of himself. 

A moment’s pause, then Spinflask sighs and nuzzles into her servo, seeking out more of the comfort she’s offering him. “I… did something. Experiments with…” Pit, she’s going to find out eventually, he should just get- get her learning over with. Maybe he can explain in a way that won’t get him put on some sort of psych hold. Spinflask doesn’t want to lose her care, her concern, doesn’t want to push her away, but he needs to share- 

And some tiny, tiny fraction of his mind hopes that this will go like his confession to Duo. Maybe she won’t be as angry as he’s expecting. Spinflask in-vents deeply, glancing up at her once more, then focuses his optics on the energon in his servos. If he were someone else, his servos might be shaking, but chemists’ servos don’t shake when they’re nervous. That sort of thing turns you from nervous to dead far too easily in his profession. His racks are shaking in his chassis, though, the softest tak-tak-tak noise accompanying a voice so soft it’s barely heard.

“I did experiments on live subjects, who I was told had been sentenced to death for various crimes. I… thought I was developing cures to help people. It… took me a shamefully long time to realize that I had been lied to, that I was developing weapons. And… certain things remind me of… what I did. I am not- not mentally ill, I do not require a psychiatrist, I just- I find that some things remind me of my guilt. Enough that I find it difficult to work, to… function.” 

Another deep vent, and Spinflask turned around to place the energon cube on the table, meeting her optics as well as he could. “So… I remove the reminder. I’ve- I’ve tried multiple small meals, that does tend to help, but I… distract myself too much to remember as many meals as I should take. I am aware of myself. I am aware that this is not a particularly healthy coping mechanism. I will not harm myself further, either. You- you know me. I don’t have the nerve to harm myself further, even if I wanted to. I am not in danger. So, please-” 

In probably the boldest gesture he’s made all week, he grips one of Shard’s servos in both of his own, trapping her servo against his chassis for a moment. “Please don’t worry about me. Save your concern for people who deser- who need help. I am not in danger. Please let me- let me assist you.” 

Trying with all his might to redirect the tone of the conversation, he picked up the cube and (reluctantly) slid out of Shard’s lap, starting towards the medbay. He wasn’t walking in a very straight line, though, his frame was tense enough that he was walking oddly. 

And, after a moment, he set the energon aside, muttered an apology, and folded down into his alt. Which looked a bit silly, honestly, given that centrifuges weren’t anywhere near floor-mobile, but it might have been explained by his transformation sequence. He ended up curled into himself, helm and face protected, in a much more collapsed version of that nervous crouch he took. His rack was still click-click-clicking, too, making the action clear for the gesture of extreme nervousness that it was. 

“…terribly sorry. Nervous,” he muttered from the floor, and made no effort to get up. “Should probably leave until I- I calm down, bordering on my- on the sort of adrenaline surge it takes to- you’ve seen the- the aggression response. Sorry. Rather not… accidentally try to kill you.”