Be it ever so humble...

[First Aid]

First Aid, having made it through the short stretch of woodland between the glade off the road and the tunnel entrance with no more incident than a moment of shock shared with a small, gracile ruminant analogue (it looked very like a gazelle, except for the part where it had six legs), is clambering down the ladder.

He likes ladders. They’re such a great, simple solution. Most of the places he goes, he doesn’t get to use them, since most of the places he goes they’re meant for much smaller people. “That’s not helping,” he says to himself, and steps free to drop the last few rungs, rather than taking the time to climb them.

He’d meant the small thrill of falling to clear off the homesickness and worry. It does, long enough to allow him to laugh and stride out into the main corridor with a confident set to his head.

[Slingshot]

Slingshot still has holes in him. The Aerialbot has been loudly insistent that Skyblast, Skyfire, and Oracle need to be fixed *first*, and he can still *walk* and use his gun, so the medics can just lay off and take care of the more injured people.

He's consented to being patched, but griped and kvetched at any real attempts at repairs so long as the other jets are still injured.

Right now, the Harrier is leaning on his side against the corridor wall, shuffling a deck of cards. Now and then, he holds one up to look at, thumb covering the bottom edge of the card. After a look of intense concentration, he uncovers what he's been hiding, and either grins or scowls.

He glances up at the laugh he hears, glare softening to nothing as he realizes it's only First Aid. "Hey."

[First Aid]

“Hey,” First Aid says in answer, giving the patches a quick, practiced appraisal. It’s mostly reflex – he doesn’t really think Slingshot’s likely to have pulled one loose – and he stops to settle against the wall himself as he does it. “How’s it going?”

[Slingshot]

"I saw Oracle up an' about earlier. Still a Seeker, but otherwise didn't look too messed up." Slingshot grins, holds up a card to First Aid. The front-on, above, and side-view of an F-15 in black silhouettes are on it.

"I'm doing just fine. Owe some Decepticons a little payback."

[First Aid]

“Then we’d better get you back in the air, too,” First Aid says easily, and studies the card with interest.

“Profiles?” he asks.

[Slingshot]

"Yeah? How's Skyblast doing?" There's an edge of aggression to his voice. It doesn't matter how much he wants to be in the air again. He can pull a Silverbolt and walk every place.

"Yeah, profiles. Somethin' Skydive gave to me."

[First Aid]

“Better. It’s about time I should go check in on him. Want to come with me?” It’s really a good thing that Slingshot’s fine with staying grounded for a bit longer, since First Aid didn’t actually mean immediately – he’s not currently sure whether or not his judgement’s good enough for surgery. The strength of his emotional reactions topside are worrying him. Checking up on people, though? Sometimes he thinks he’ll keep doing that even after he’s dead, from sheer force of habit.

“That’s good,” he says, “I haven’t got any of mine – flashcards I mean – I left them all at home.”

[Slingshot]

"Yeah." While Slingshot has avoided one of his more annoying habits from his home universe, he still has a tendency to think and want to be the center of the world.

"Yeah? Didn't know you had those."

[First Aid]

First Aid has that problem too, as demonstrated by how many of his conversations involve him reminding himself that it’s not about him. The center of the universe is a tempting place! “Okay,” he says, and presses his hands back against the wall to push himself off it.

He shrugs. “They’re useful. I need to remember a lot of things without having to search for them, too, and they make good practice.”

[Slingshot]

There's a scrape of metal as Slingshot shoves his shoulder off from the wall. "Skydive thought they were a great idea."

He thumbs out a card and makes a scornful sound. "Powerglide. Yeah, like I'm gonna mistake his tiny little profile for anyone else's."

He heads off towards where Skyblast should be right now, supremely confident that First Aid will follow him. "I needa get new cards for this."

[First Aid]

Slingshot’s confidence is rewarded! First Aid follows him readily. This may have turned more into him going with Slingshot than Slingshot going with him.

“Updating the deck sounds like a plan. I’ve got… at least one marker,” (and grease pencils and electrician’s tape and a box of crayons,) “So we’ll need cardstock.”

“I suppose,” he adds, a little bit doubtfully, “I could remake some of mine.”

[Slingshot]

"Bound to be some topside. Humans like paper way too much." Never mind that these guys aren't human.

[First Aid]

“It’s a good, stable storage material when your technology is changing fast. And doesn’t cause the same kind of eye strain as a lighted screen.”

Clearly, what all comments need are answering explanations.

[Slingshot]

"What's so straining about a screen, anyway?"

[Synapse]

Down the hall comes a minibot, a minibot who is probably a bit more noticeable than before. His usually fluid and noiseless movements are now accompanied by metallic clicks when feet hit the ground and awkward jerks as Synapse gets used to new parts and the feeling of walking around again. Oh is it nice to be ambulatory, though. Being stuck in one spot and one view is more than a little unnerving to the scout. Synapse's solution: wandering.

Wandering into others isn't quite in the plan though. First Aid and Slingshot get an invisible wide-opticked look as Synapse freezes in place before the minibot gives a flustered bow. "Ah, greetings." No other words are uttered as what they're saying doesn't make much sense to him at the moment.