Skids knocked on the door to Rung's office. He had taken Ratchet's advice and had started spending time with the psychiatrist. He was glad he listened to the grouchy, old medic. Rung was a balm he didn't know he needed. There was just-something about Rung that comforted him.
The door opened and Rung appeared. "Oh, Skids. Come in, come in."
The orange mech held the door open as Skids walked in and shut the door behind him. "Go ahead and have a seat. I was just dusting my shelves."
"Yeah?" Skids drawled as he sat in the chair in front of the desk. "You know you could use a cleaning drone."
Rung laughed. "Yes, just so someone can tinker with it. So, how are you Skids?"
Skids told the psychiatrist about his day and the latest gossip, while he continued to clean. Skids wasn't bothered by Rung moving about while they conversed. There was something…homely about it, he guessed. It also said something about their relationship that they were so comfortable with each other that they didn't need to sit face to face all the time.
As he watched Rung clean, Skids couldn't help, but wander if all he needed was a little dusting in his brain module; something to shake loose the cobwebs and make his memories more accessible to him.
"Skids? You drifted off…are you alright?"
Skids jolted in his seat. He didn't realize his attention had wandered. He flashed Rung a crooked smile. "Yeah. Sorry Rung. I was just thinking."
"that's alright. I don't mind."
"Hey Rung. I've been thinking that I want your help with something."
Rung set his duster down. Looking over his shoulder at Skids, there was a light in those golden eyes that called to him. Whatever was on Skids' mind, it was important to him. Rung moved away from the shelves and sat down across from Skids to give the charming mech his full attention. "Okay."
Skids put his hands on the desk and began to drum his fingers. "I've been thinking that I want to regain my missing memories. I'm sure that the stuff is in there." He stopped to see if Rung was going to respond.
When Rung inclined his head, urging him to continue, Skids dropped his eyes and stared at his drumming fingers. "Thing is, I don't want your help as a doctor. I want the help of a friend."
A lengthy pause filled the space as Rung considered Skids' request, and Skids gave him time to think. The theoretician knew that what he was asking for wasn't an easy request and that Rung was a mech who took the time to consider his options, responses, and possible outcomes before committing to anything.
Finally, Rung reached across the desk to still Skids' moving digits.
Skids raised his gaze back to Rung's face and felt relieved to find his friend smiling.
"My dear, Skids. I'm sure we can figure something out."