Ramattra's joints creaked as he made his way through the bustling city, his normally imposing figure appearing slightly diminished as he struggled to maintain his usual fluid movements. His sensors indicated a critical shortage of lubricating oil, a vital resource for his functioning.

Upon reaching the humans' mechanic shop, Ramattra's solid black eyes surveyed the surroundings, his stoic expression betraying no hint of his inner turmoil. With a determined stride, he approached a female mechanic who was engrossed in her work, the clang of metal against metal echoing through the workshop.

"Excuse me," Ramattra's deep, resonant voice cut through the noise, commanding attention without raising his volume. The mechanic looked up, her gaze meeting his unyielding stare. Despite the tension that often lingered between humans and omnics, Ramattra remained composed, knowing that his need outweighed any animosity.

"I require assistance," he continued, his tone firm yet respectful. "I am in need of lubricating oil. My systems are running low, and I must replenish them to ensure optimal performance."