"What the slag are you looking at?" Vortex snapped.

Drag Strip shrugged. "You." He lounged next to the spare parts rack, by far and away the hottest thing in medbay. The second hottest thing was stretched out on the berth, a gaping hole in his chassis, his rotors trapped beneath him. Sad that they weren't spinning, but the ends quivered a little, as though begging to be touched. Somehow, Drag Strip made himself wait.

Beneath the smoke-streaked translucent glass of his visor, Vortex's optics were just about visible. They narrowed. "Slag off."

"No," Drag Strip said. Sure, last time he'd told Vortex 'no', it hadn't gone well for him. But this time? Hydraulic fluid leaked in a steady stream from the Combaticon's waist; he wasn't going anywhere fast.

The copter continued to glare. "You capable of words with more that one syllable?"

Drag Strip huffed. "Sure."

Vortex laughed and looked away.

No no no, that wasn't good. The captive audience was meant to be looking over here, at the shiny, polished paintwork and sleek, smooth lines. At least until Hook got back, anyway.

"I mean, I can. Uh…" Slag, words of more than one syllable, he knew words like that! Although the only one he could think of right now was 'syllable'. He could make conversation, he was highly socially adept; what the frag was wrong with him?

"What's the matter," Vortex said, still not looking at him. "Ravage got your glossa?"

Must be the rotors. Yeah. Frag, they were tasty. Drag Strip edged a little closer to the berth. No, not edged, he sauntered, confident and smooth, and allowed the back of his hand to brush against the tip of one of the rotor blades.

"That wound," he said. "Looks painful." Thank frag, a two-syllable word. "Maybe I can do something to help?"

"I doubt it." Vortex gestured at the door. "Now, slag off."

What the frag? Drag Strip had read up on rotaries – well, he'd got Dead End to read up on rotaries for him, but it was all the same when you got down to it. That slip of metal was meant to be more sensitive than his spoiler. And yet…

Vortex must have felt it. He was probably just being contrary. Either that or oblivious. Whichever, this wasn't a battle Drag Strip was prepared to lose; he tried it again.

The blade juddered, and there was the slightest shift in the pitch of Vortex's engine. Drag Strip smirked.

"Could be a while before Hook gets back," he said, sliding his palm along the rotor, edging closer to Vortex's shoulder. "I could help take your mind off the pain…"

Vortex glanced at him. "Can you see my laser core from there?"

"Huh?" Drag Strip paused.

Vortex sighed. "OK, zippy, basic listening comprehension, not your strong point, is it? Can you see my laser core from where you're standing? And if you're gonna grope me, do it properly. Frag, what's wrong with the mechs around here? Bunch of new-model freaks."

Drag Strip faltered. For about half an astrosecond, anyway, before the realisation hit him: the copter had given him a nickname. Round one to him, ha! He couldn't consider it round two; what had happened earlier, that was just the speed trials.

And as for groping… He wrapped his fingers around the blade's leading edge and smoothed his hand over the metal. It thrummed in his grip, slick with a trace of spilled energon.

"That good?" Drag Strip asked.

"Eh, it's OK," Vortex said. "But seriously, can you see my laser core?"

"Uh…" This wasn't how it was meant to go. Vortex was meant to say "Mmmm, that's great," and then they'd move to phase two of Vortex wanting him.

"Well, can you?" Vortex prompted. Drag Strip was about to reply when the copter's attention yet again slid away. He glanced over at the door an astrosecond before Brawl came blundering through it.

"Vortex! Hey, VORTEX!" Brawl thunked into the berth, the recoil slamming up Drag Strip's arm. Vortex grinned.

Brawl prodded his side. "Hahahahahahahaha! So it's true, Blasty really did shoot you! Frag, you had it coming."

"Shut up," Vortex said. "Hey, can you see my laser core from there?"

"Unf!" Drag Strip crashed into the spare parts rack as Brawl shoved him roughly out of the way. Drag Strip glowered; moron.

"Ha! Yeah!" Brawl lent down, peering into the hole in Vortex's armour. "It's all grey and stuff. And, like, glowy at the end. Ahahahahaha! He almost killed you!"

Drag Strip clenched his fists. Half an astrosecond to reach for his pistol, another astrosecond to put Brawl out of the picture. But Hook chose just that moment to re-appear, and Drag Strip was suddenly quite glad that he wasn't the one with his hands on the copter.

He was already halfway down the corridor when the shouting began. Yeah, this round definitely went to him.