video;

[stabbywheelfeet]

[Well, contrary to all his talk and all his... well. Arguing with people. When Sideswipe's video feed turns on, he's curled in a ball of silver misery. He's buried himself under a tarp and... ]

[... appears to be shaking.]

It's cold. It's not supposed to be cold on this planet. Is it?

[Wow he sounds crankier than usual. Something's got to be wrong.]

I haven't had a decent fight in weeks and everything is just... it hurts.

[Yeah that's a whine. He curls under the tarp a little more, looking pathetic as possible. Which may not actually be an act.]

[Looks like someone smashed themselves into that nifty robot flu.]

I want a medic.

[One more whine before he turns off the feed.]

Comments

[Action]

[stabbywheelfeet]

[Maybe this is best for both of them. Some distraction -- some time to patch things up a little. Reaffirm bonds before the real problems hit. Before Mirage did something Sideswipe considered abominably stupid.]

[His head is resting on Mirage's shoulder, focusing only on the offered warmth. On keeping his engine running smooth.]

I don't know what that means...

[But it comes out drowsy. As he's inevitably lulled to drift off, still wrapped up in and clinging to Mirage.]

[Action]

[perfavore]

[He wouldn't have asked for anything more, really. Fighting with Sideswipe just didn't feel right on any level. As if to avoid thinking further on it, he buries his face into the bot's neck, huffing out one more breath of air.

And he couldn't have been happier to know that Sideswipe's translator was never installed.]

[Action]

[stabbywheelfeet]

[That's really all it takes, for now. He's so exhausted by this strange illness, he doesn't think twice about curling up and dozing off in the red bot's hold.]

[Though, he does grip a panel on that red armor more tightly. As if to keep Mirage by his side.]

[To make sure he's there, when he wakes up again.]