thisavrou_log | june intro log overflow

[ Very seriously, very straight-facedly: ] You are, without a doubt, my favorite giant mechanical person.

[ That said, he can't help rolling his eyes a little. ]

Look, no offense, I'm sure your tech is awesome — and make no mistake, I am ridiculously interested — but I've got my own docket of upgrades in mind. Like space-proofing it, for starters.

That sounds like a high bar.

[Ratchet hums thoughtfully, turning the cylinder delicately between his fingers.]

Anyway, that's a relief--not all the humans I've met have been as laid-back as you about that sort of thing. [He watches Tony thoughtfully for a moment.] An space-proofing is something I can definitely help you with.

Chalk it up to conceited self-obsession with my own abilities, probably.

[ Said in the most blasé manner possible, but it's only half a joke; he doesn't need tech handouts from anyone. Collaboration? Sure, but that's different. That has the potential to be mutually beneficial, or at least satisfying. ]

But, hey, I'm not gonna turn down somebody with more experience than me, which I figure you must have where the space thing is concerned. Only been there once, didn't enjoy it.

Huh. Guess it's a different place if you have to take such petty concerns as breathing and vacuum into account. It's pretty much home, now, after... hell, what, three million years of diaspora, give or take? We only just got our planet live and kicking again--definitely emphasis on the kicking, and I didn't stick around.

What can this thing do, then, besides not go into space and probably keep you from getting very shot? I assume the full list is impressive, and I see some weapons systems, but it's difficult to tell with it all boxed up like this.

A lesser man would be offended by these thinly veiled insults against the love of his life.

[ An artful sniff, to drive home how deeply!!! offended!!! he is. (No.) ]

If I went through every feature, we'd be here all day. Weapons and the protection of my innards are definitely part of it. Snazzy paint job, currently hard to see. Remote activation, working on it. More importantly, it has A/C and the best stereo system money can buy.

I have air conditioning and a stereo system. [Ratchet's voice is mild as he affects to be unimpressed, though one corner of his mouth curls up. His optics unfocus slightly as he goes through the scan again more thoroughly, frowning in thought.]

What are the things on the hands and feet for, the muon accelerators? [He stops again and frowns harder.] They're not weapons, why would you need them on the soles of...

[He stops walking as he stares at the extra aileron articulation at the back and shoulders before the diagram snaps away from his HUD and he stares down at Tony in utter disbelieving indignation.]

Can this thing fly? [You'd almost think he'd sound impressed, but--] Are you crazy?

Yes.

[ WHICH QUESTION IS HE ANSWERING??? ]

But if you wanna know all about my muon thrusters, you're gonna have to take me to dinner first. I'm free every night this week, incidentally. My schedule opened up when I got plucked from everything I've ever known.

That's dangerous! [It dawns on him.] Is that how you got into space? No wonder this think is busted half to hell--what were you even doing up there?

[How a seventeen-foot-tall robot can sound like a particularly fussy primary school teacher and a person scolding a cat who has just knocked something from a high shelf simultaneously is anyone's guess. (The answer is practice.)]

Are you lecturing me? You're lecturing me. Incredible.

[ He rolls his eyes at being fussed at by a giant fucking robot that's apparently seventy bajillion years old, but a new tension has made its way into his posture. ]

If you must know, I was disposing of a nuclear missile headed directly for midtown Manhattan. Wasn't a lot of time for risk assessment, you know how it is.

[That stops Ratchet cold, all the irritation draining from his face to leave it blank with shock for a moment, his optics paling.]

Oh. [His voice is smaller now, and he shifts his grip on the cylinder, curling his fingers around it again carefully.] I--yeah. I do, actually. [His lips thin, hesitating, but he wants to know so he asks.]

How'd that go, then?

Well, I'm alive to tell you about it. And New York didn't get nuked, so.

[ His eyes flick to his armor, and honestly? It's a small miracle he is alive to tell Ratchet about it. He'll chalk that up to his fantastic engineering prowess, busted power source or no. ]

So, space-proofing, like I said.

I'd call that a win.

[Ratchet's expression is still about as subdued as he ever gets, running his thumb thoughtfully down the side of the cylinder.]

I'm glad. I have friends in Manhattan--or I did, for a while, where I'm from. It's a nice place. [He watches Tony for a moment, his face softening the slightest bit.]

I'll go over the scans I took more thoroughly and start some designs for you to look over. We can start whenever you like--I went from a patient pool of over two hundred to about twenty, so it's not like I haven't got time.

I'd imagine your friends like it better in its non-radioactive state, so it all works out.

[ Tony seems placated by Ratchet's change in demeanor, at least, and any topic that strays away form New York is just fine with him. Better than fine. Perfect. ]

Listen. I'm not turning you down, especially in an environment with a depressing lack of resources and with - frankly - very little experience designing for extraterrestrial travel, but...

[ But he's a paranoid fucker. ]

I already figured out I can't stop your crazy robo-eyes from sussing out all kinds of things, but beyond that, I'm more than a little testy about where the details of this thing end up, you feel me?

[Ratchet looks at Tony curiously for a moment, then sighs a gust of warm air from his vents.]

I'm going to need to learn about it to be able to work on it properly. [He inclines his helm a little.] This doesn't exactly fall under the patient confidentiality that I'm used to, but if anybody else figures out anything about this armor, it won't be from me.

[ Tony smirks, a touch humorless, but it isn't challenging. ]

Yeah, I've heard that before.

But I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt, seeing as you're the only person I've met in my entire life who might actually have tech beyond my own, [ appreciate this huge fucking concession, Ratchet ] and therefore doesn't stand to gain much.

Have you.

[It's not really a question, and Ratchet looks extremely thoughtful for a moment, turning the cylinder carefully in his grip.]

I don't know. I've learned a hell of a lot from some humans I've met. [A lot of it has been some truly awful new techniques in biotechnological warfare, mostly levered against him, but that is neither here nor there.] I'm aware you have no real reason to trust me, but if there are trade secrets in here that aren't going to hurt anyone else, they're safe with me.

That's humble of you, considering you're a billion year old, twenty foot tall mechanical person.

[ Tony reaches out to rap his knuckles against the body of the cylinder, where there's a particularly garish scrape in the paint. It's a fond gesture, all things considered. ]

But I'll take what I can get, for the time being. I'm prioritizing above my paranoia - at terrible personal cost, believe me.

Around five million, but point taken.

[Ratchet's mouth tilts lopsidedly, almost a smile.]

I can tell you're suffering, yeah. [He watches Tony knock on the canister affectionately, his grip on it steady.] As flattering as being an absolute last-ditch option is, I'll take as much care as I would with a regular patient. [His optics flick between Tony and the canister again, looking thoughtful.]

Close enough, anyway.

My bad. I always get foggy on equally unfathomably long periods of time.

[ He seems as appeased as he's ever going to get, though, and dammit, he'd be insane not to leap on a chance to glean something from a giant sentient robot. ]

I'd shake on it, but you're currently hauling my junk around and your hand is as big as my torso, anyway.

My hand is a fine size for hauling your junk around, apparently.

[Ratchet's face is utterly deadpan, but his optics flicker bright for a moment, almost teasing.]

I'm still trying to get a workspace set up. I can come to your place to hash out plans--size isn't an issue there--but for the actual hardware alterations I'll need more space.

Yeah, I bet they are, hotshot.

[ He should probably stop making suggestive comments at a giant robot. Whatever. Ain't nobody the boss of him.

He just makes a noncommittal "hm" sound at that last bit, before glancing at his MID. ]

Well, somebody in the job placement department knows what they're doing, because they assigned me to engineering. I figure that'll have plenty of space.

june intro log overflow

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ohh my god this was open for ages and i never hit post comment end me

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