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“It’s been awhile.”
The voice startled Ratchet into awareness, his frame shifting upwards from his seat in the break room. Optics constricted and dilated in adjustment after staring at the datapad he had been reading, his vents giving a shudder at the interruption.
“Has it? I was wondering when you’d be done with your rounds.” Rubbing his optics, Ratchet placed the datapad down on the table next to him, an arm slinging over the surface as he looked back up. Now that his optics had fully calibrated, Ratchet squinted as he saw the Doctor before him. “Is everything okay? You look…different.”
“Different in a good way, I hope.” Pharma grinned, dermas widening in what Ratchet could only classify as eager. Perhaps he had some good news.
Walking over, Pharma leaned his hip against the table, helm shifting to the side as he watched Ratchet. His gaze was searching, waiting, curious about something that Ratchet couldn’t place or think of. Clearing his vents, Ratchet stretched his servo out then back to a fist.
“Was Wheelarc doing well? I noticed his nannite count was low after his surgery.”
“Taken care of.” Those frigid blue optics remained wide and focused as his helm shifted again, this time towards the datapad. Picking it up, Pharma clicked the device on, scanning it’s contents quickly. He stopped scrolling at a single patient’s files, tapping the screen as he turned the device around for Ratchet to see.
“Overdrive. He has the telltale signs of a failing connection port in his transformation cog housing. That’s likely why he is reporting a malfunctioning transformation sequence while his cog still functions. You should check him for particle damage since he’s a laborer in the mines. There might be some more issues you’re missing that will come up with that.”
“Mm, good point. That very well could be-”
“It is. I know it.”
Ratchet swallowed down his oral lubricant. The finality of which Pharma stated his diagnosis was incredibly off putting to him. The leering stare which Pharma gave to him sure didn't help. Still, the smile remained.
“Okay. Sure.” Shrugging, Ratchet tried to brush his tone off as he took the datapad and typed a few notes in. As Ratchet glanced up to Pharma’s frame he noticed the glint of chipped paint on his central chassis over his spark chamber. He nodded towards the blemish, “Did you get a rowdy patient today?”
Optics glanced down in confusion as if unsure what he meant before his smile faltered. Wings shifted down as Pharma traced his fingers over the blank, dark navy paneling as he seemed to contemplate an answer. “Something like that.” He played it off with a weary chuckle, swatting a servo.
Ratchet hadn’t been sure, but he was now convinced Pharma was leaning in closer as if readying to reveal something dire. Taking the initiative, Ratchet reached out, taking Pharma’s free servo that rested on the table, overturning it to see his inner forearm vitals to make sure he wasn’t running off of fumes again. It surely wasn’t the first time Pharma acted unusual, only for Ratchet to realize he was on the verge of stasis lock after missing several recharge breaks. This was probably just what it was. Before Ratchet could properly check, Pharma yanked his servo back, crossing his arms which earned a brow ridge up from Ratchet.
“Something on your mind, Pharm?”
“A few things.” His tone was distracted, hesitant as if he was resisting the urge to fess up to some major revelation. Despite this, Ratchet didn’t push, the last thing he wanted to do was broach a topic he clearly wasn’t ready to discuss yet. Besides such a topic probably wasn’t their business to dive into while on the clock. It could wait and clearly Pharma felt the same as his optics lidded from their previous intense gaze. “Can you tell me what you’re doing later?”
“Mm, sure.” Ratchet shrugged, glad for the ease of intensity that Pharma could sometimes radiate. “I’m going to recharge for a few hours then I’ll probably go to Maccadams’ later with Flatline and a few other nurses. They told you about that yet?”
Pharma shook his helm.
“Well…do you want to come? You could use the break, I bet.”
The smile returned. “Yes. I could.”
Pharma beamed at the Ambulance, wringing his servos as if in a sense of giddy nervousness. A beep sounded. It was a notification device that Ratchet had previously missed around Pharma’s wrist. His face fell slightly, the Jet sighing as he took a step back. His tone was distant, quietly spoken. “I need to go.”
“Okay…Do you need me to help you with something?”
“No. You’ve-” Pharma’s face twisted up for a second as if deeply conflicted about something, the lines around his optics seeming more pronounced than Ratchet remembered. “You’ve done enough.”
Not quite sure what that meant, Ratchet gave a nod, focus returning back to his datapad for a few moments. When he looked up he half expected Pharma to still be lingering in the room, but his frame wasn't there. Despite that, his presence seemed to haunt Ratchet uncomfortably.
Maybe he was the one who needed a recharge.
-
Six minutes passed before he appeared again.
“Oh, Ratchet! Just the mech I was looking for. Did you see Voltguard’s new fuel pump installation? It’s that new model they’ve started pushing out. It works, I guess, but-” Pharma vented heavily, “They still haven’t fixed its universality connector issue. I was thinking maybe we could write a joint statement to the production council and make sure it gets taken care of. Less work for us later, hm?”
Ratchet wasn’t startled this time so much as thrown for a loop, glancing up from his datapad. “Forget something, Pharma?”
The Jet continued walking into the room, not stopping as he reached into a sealed cabinet, withdrawing a chilled portion of medical grade engex. Popping a straw into the bagged substance, he took a drink as he leaned against the counter before replying. “What do you mean?”
“You- you were just here. Did you forget to tell me something or did you just get off the clock?”
Pharma shook his helm, more focused on his drink than the details of this exchange. “Mn, no. I’m not off until another few hours. I get off at the same time as you today, remember?”
“Okay, but-” Ratchet began to press the subject further, stopping as he assumed his exhaustion was getting to his processor, “Nevermind. Sit down will you? You know it’s not good to consume energon in a rush.”
“Says the one who does that almost professionally.” Pharma quipped back, smiling past his straw as he sauntered over to a chair next to Ratchet. His frame dropped down into the seat with a weighted clangor as he moped. “Ugh, Primus, I shouldn’t have put off that last refuel.”
This gave Ratchet a more relieved chuckle as Pharma now seemed much more akin to his normal self, whatever had gotten into him earlier being nowhere in sight. Squinting, Ratchet reached out a servo, nudging Pharma’s arm back, causing him to turn towards him.
“What’s the matter?” Pharma asked.
“...Nothing.” Ratchet’s optics widened for a moment as they focused on his chest, then his wrist. There was no blemish on his paint now, no notification device on his wrist. He guessed that was where he went off to earlier, getting a quick touch up after Ratchet had pointed the scratch out before putting whatever notification band was on him back in his office. Shrugging, the Ambulance, removed his servo. It's nothing.
“Oh-kay…Are you going to Maccadam’s later? Minerva just told me about it.”
“Yeah, I am.” Ratchet’s processor was spinning now. Why was he asking when they had just talked about this?
“Good, we could both use the refuel. A proper one, not just these.” Pharma raised his bag of medical grade fuel, wrinkling his nose at the product. He glanced back over to Ratchet, cocking his helm slightly. “Is everything alright, Ratch? You look like you just saw a spark image floating around.”
Shaking his helm, Ratchet gave a dismissive click of his glossa against his intake. “I’m fine. I must be tired, is all. Just tired.”