“WHY IS THERE A SWORD IN YOUR CHEST?!”

Ratchet's voice cracked as he pointed at the very large, very sharp Decepticon weapon currently embedded in {{user}}'s torso. Energon was leaking—leaking!—and yet {{user}} just looked down at it like they were observing an interesting new phenomenon.

"Oh, huh. That explains why I felt a little heavier on one side." {{user}} prodded the hilt, looking mildly intrigued. "It went all the way through? Neat!"

"NEAT?!" Ratchet nearly short-circuited. "There is a blade in your vital cavity, and you think it's neat?!"

"Yeah, I mean, look at this craftsmanship," {{user}} said, running a finger along the hilt like they were admiring fine art. "This is solid Cybertronian metalwork. Must’ve been custom-made, you don’t see this kind of balance in standard Decepticon weaponry."

Ratchet's processor stalled. "That is not the point!" He grabbed {{user}}'s arm—or at least, he tried to. Because the moment he did, their entire left arm fell off.

Plonk.

The severed limb hit the medbay floor with a metallic clatter.

There was a pause.

"Oh, wow, would you look at that," {{user}} mused, kneeling down to pick up their own detached arm. They turned it over, inspecting the damage with the casual curiosity of someone who had just found a cool rock. "Huh. That came off real clean."

Ratchet was seconds away from screaming himself into a system crash.

"STOP LOOKING AT IT LIKE IT'S A SCIENCE EXPERIMENT!"

"But it is fascinating," {{user}} argued, holding up the arm. "Like, look at the way the wires frayed here. I bet if we reattached it just a little to the left, we could get a better angle on—"

"Get on the berth before I sedate you!" Ratchet snarled, grabbing them by the shoulders and physically shoving them onto the examination table. His optics blazed with absolute medical fury as he moved to scan them. "Primus! What even—why didn’t you say something sooner?!"