Chapter Text
Minimus Ambus noticed Ravage. Quite often, in fact. Although the Decepticon strived to go relatively unnoticed, Minimus could not help but catch sight of him whenever he entered a room.
Minimus initially assumed it to be the sort of notice one had for potential threats. Why else would his optics track Ravage whenever the mech was nearby? Why else would his back and neck prickle with the urge to turn around when he knew Ravage was present but beyond his line of sight? Why else would he take notice of Ravage's competence, his work ethic, the words he said and the way he phrased them, the dry humor and dignity with which he comported himself?
And then one day Ravage came to Ultra Magnus's office with the desk tidy that had gone missing that morning, which no one in the crew would confess to stealing.
It had been rather late. Well past the end of Minimus's duty shift. He'd been working on the backlog of Rodimus's half-finished paperwork, since the co-captain had a tendency to let it pile up until he did it all in one messy rush and Minimus would much rather do it himself and have it done right than let Rodimus do it all wrong. (Megatron was of little help in this matter as Rodimus was more likely to put off his work if Megatron advised him to do it.)
It was boring work but Minimus rather enjoyed the monotony of it. Still, the absence of his desk tidy kept him from settling into the rhythm too well. Every time he reached for something that would sit in his desk tidy he found empty space, and was forced to pluck a stylus or other instrument from the pile the thief had left on his desk when they stole the desk tidy.
How could he possibly enjoy the monotony of paperwork under such conditions?
Minimus reached for the stylus he'd dedicated to correcting Rodimus's grammatical errors and found nothing but air once again. He sighed heavily.
"Looking for something?"
Minimus did not startle, but he did perhaps stiffen a little in surprise as Ravage jumped up onto the desk. Whatever questions or rebukes he had –how did Ravage get in without opening the door? Why did he not enter through the door? He could have simply pinged and Minimus would have let him in– were swept away when Ravage set his missing desk tidy down in its usual spot.
"My desk tidy!" Minimus picked it up, turning it over and examining it for damage. He glanced up at Ravage. "How did you know I was looking for it?"
Ravage raised a brow. "You questioned nearly half the crew on its whereabouts."
"Ah. Well." Minimus set the undamaged desk tidy back in its place and began putting his things back into it. "Where did you find it?"
"Ten's quarters. It seems he was putting it to use for his own artistry tools."
Minimus hadn't considered Ten as a suspect. Ten showed a remarkable understanding of law, after all, and knew that theft was illegal once Minimus explained it to him. But then again, perhaps his "ten"s and pointing at Minimus's desk tidy yesterday were him asking to borrow it and not simply admiration of its usefulness. In that light, Minimus's "yes, thank you" might have been misconstrued as permission to take it.
"I see." Minimus put the last stylus in place. Tilted it so that its resting angle was parallel to the others. "Thank you for returning it. You didn't need to go out of your way." Ten probably would have returned it eventually, once he either heard of Minimus's questioning or Minimus questioned him himself.
"You seemed rather upset by the loss," Ravage replied.
Minimus pursed his lips. His reaction to the theft had, perhaps, been a little excessive. "Yes, well… It's best to have things neat and tidy, especially in one's workspace."
Ravage hummed, glancing around Minimus's office. "You appear to have achieved that."
Some portion of Minimus's chest warmed at the compliment. "Thank you."
Ravage's audials twitched. Amusement flashed in his optics. "You're welcome." His gaze darted down to the datapads on the desk. "Isn't that Rodimus's work?"
"Yes." Minimus looked down at the datapad he'd been working on and saw yet another error. He reached for the dedicated 'Rodimus grammar correction' stylus and found it right where it should be. He crossed out the error and corrected it. He continued to read down the document, correcting as he went.
After a couple minutes he heard the shift of metal. He glanced up.
"You're still here," Minimus said in surprise, and immediately regretted his rudeness. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ignore you."
Ravage let out a low laugh. Minimus's spark stuttered strangely. "It's alright," Ravage said. "You seemed hard at work. Have you had energon yet?"
Minimus glanced at his chronometer. It was later than he'd thought. "Not yet."
"Why don't I bring you some." Ravage paused, tilted his head. "Unless you wanted to join me. Take a little break."
Minimus's spark beat a little harder in his chest. "I'll join you," he said. Too quickly, without thinking.
Ravage's optics flashed with… Minimus guessed it to be satisfaction. "Excellent." He descended from the desk to the floor in one graceful leap. "Come on, then. No time like the present."
Minimus had to hop down from his desk chair, configured to the Magnus Armor's height, which he'd gone without today. Ravage slipped between Minimus's ankles, nudging him towards the door. Minimus followed Ravage into the hall, bemused.
It was rather nice of Ravage to ensure he got his energon, Minimus thought. He was really putting in the effort to integrate himself in the crew. Perhaps it was uncharitable to regard him as a threat so often.
They ended up going to Swerve's and, after getting some energon, sat in a booth and talked for a while. Ravage was principled, but not so stubborn that discussion over the flaws in Decepticon and Autobot ideology was made unpleasant by their differing opinions.
After an hour or so Ravage convinced Minimus to go back to his quarters to recharge rather than return to his office. Minimus conceded, if only because it really was getting late, and Ravage might have a point that doing Rodimus's work for him only encouraged him to neglect it (not that Minimus hadn't heard such sentiments before from Megatron) and that leaving it unfinished for one more night cycle wouldn't send the ship into chaos.
Ravage walked Minimus back to his quarters so they could finish their conversation on the way.
It was quite refreshing. In fact Minimus might go so far as to admit, at least to himself, that he'd rather enjoyed the experience.
And as Minimus fell into recharge, sleepy and sated by energon and good company, Minimus recalled a moment when Ravage laughed at something Minimus said (it hadn't been a joke but Ravage's laugh had not been ill-meant) and Minimus's spark had skipped a beat at the sound of Ravage's laugh– low and rumbling, nearly a purr.
Minimus's spark skipped again at the memory. The computation he hadn't realized he'd been working on finally finished its work, and oh. His notice of Ravage wasn't a threat assessment at all.
It was not the last time Ravage drew Minimus into getting energon with him. Their conversation was always riveting, the silence companionable. Ravage brought energon to Minimus a few times when Minimus's work prevented him from leaving his office at a reasonable hour.
A few weeks after Ravage brought back the desk tidy, he came to Ultra Magnus's office with a datapad.
"What is this?" Magnus picked up the datapad.
"A gift." Ravage perched on the corner of the desk, tail wrapping demurely about his pedes.
Magnus frowned and onlined the datapad. He found a report on the activities of the crew within– nothing invasive enough to warrant a citation for breach of privacy, but more information than Magnus was privy to himself due to his relatively distant relationship with much of the crew. He could put this to good use when organizing duty shifts and inspections.
He glanced up at Ravage. "Why give this to me?"
Ravage tilted his head. There was a peculiar intensity in his optics. "You like to know what's going on." He smirked wryly. "I thought this a better offering than the heads of your enemies."
"I see." He didn't. But it wouldn't do to express his confusion and look foolish. Magnus tucked the datapad into subspace. "Thank you. I believe this will be quite useful."
Ravage's optics squinted in satisfaction. "I'm glad you like it." He uncoiled and leapt down from the desk. He stretched languidly. Magnus glanced away from the sight, cheeks warming. "Would you like to join me at Swerve's later?" Ravage asked.
Magnus found himself nodding.
"Excellent. I'll come fetch you at the end of your shift."
As Ravage slipped out the door, Magnus wondered whether Ravage's attentions were not simply those of a helpful crewmember.
It was a question that occupied much of Minimus's mind over the next several months. The Lost Light had her share of interesting adventures (how could she not, with people like Rodimus and Brainstorm onboard?) but somehow Ravage always managed to eke out time to cajole Minimus into getting energon with him.
They did not always go to Swerve's. Occasionally they met on one of the Lost Light's many observation decks, where they could converse without the bother of the bargoing crowd. With the lights dimmed so as to better see the stars shining through the thick viewpanes, it was almost intimate– but then again, Minimus's perception was likely biased by his recently discovered interest.
It didn't take long for Minimus to notice that Ravage wasn't acting like this with anyone else in the crew. Though Minimus's knowledge and involvement with the crews' interpersonal relationships was lacklustre at best, he at least saw enough to know that Ravage did not directly seek out the company of anyone but Megatron and, apparently, Minimus himself.
There was also the matter of gifts. The report on the crew was not the last Ravage gave to Minimus. He also procured a datapad of literature, a physical record of a symphony Minimus had once expressed to be his second-favorite behind "The Empyrean Suite", and more recently a knife that was the perfect size to be wielded by Minimus's irreducible frame.
"I don't have much experience with knifework," Minimus said upon receiving the last gift.
Ravage smirked. "Maybe we should change that. We wouldn't want another close call like during the Sherati pirate incident."
Right, the Lost Light's second most recent shenanigan. Sherati pirates had successfully taken remote control of the ship via a stowaway picked up at a port (Brainstorm and Perceptor quickly filled the hole in their defenses once the incident was over) and closed the blast doors throughout the ship, locking the crew into whatever area they'd been in at the time. However, the pirates neglected to close the air vents. Thus Minimus, Ravage, Rewind, and Tailgate, the only mecha on the ship who could fit comfortably in the ventilation system, had to crawl through the vents to the hangar bay where the Sherati had affixed their ship.
Stealth went out the window when Tailgate fell out of the vent in the ceiling, but the ensuing firefight was relatively brief. Minimus and Ravage, as the only two mecha on the team with extensive combat experience, did most of the work while Rewind and Tailgate sat under cover and took potshots.
The close call Ravage referred to was when a Sherati pirate managed to get through the blaster fire and tackle Minimus. Though smaller than the average Cybertronian, Sherati were still twice the size of a minibot and heavily resistant to bludgeoning damage to boot. Minimus might have had a hard time wrestling the alien back had Ravage not promptly stabbed the alien in the chest with his tail.
Minimus hadn't thought the encounter particularly notable (except for his own breathlessly inappropriate but thankfully internal reaction to Ravage's display of battle prowess) but apparently Ravage remembered it.
Minimus sighed. "Perhaps you have a point."
Ravage laughed. Minimus realized his inadvertent pun a moment too late. "I always do," Ravage said teasingly, his sharp-tipped tail flicking behind him.
There must be an ulterior motive, Minimus thought later in the privacy of his quarters, turning the knife over and over in his hands. No one ever paid Ultra Magnus so much attention without wanting something in return. Ravage must be ingratiating himself to Minimus so that he could later request Ultra Magnus's assistance in a matter he would otherwise decline to participate in. While Ravage was not exactly a long-term-planning mastermind, he certainly had the patience to lie in wait for the best moment to strike.
Minimus pushed these thoughts away with a pang of guilt. Ravage had never before displayed a tendency towards sycophancy. In fact, Ravage rather abhorred such things. And Ravage was also a close confidant to Megatron who was, obviously, of higher rank than Ultra Magnus, so there was no need for Ravage to solicit favors from Ultra Magnus when he could simply ask Megatron.
It was rather difficult to consider the dilemma objectively. Minimus's… regard for Ravage colored his perceptions of the mech. A regard which only increased with every outing and conversation they had, every thoughtful gift Ravage gave him, every time Ravage displayed his competency and ingenuity in the field.
Minimus considered bringing the problem to Ratchet, who would surely provide some wisdom or insight. He refrained. He could guess what Ratchet would say: Minimus was being paranoid. He wasn't very good at interpersonal relationships, as any member of the crew could attest. Perhaps Ravage was simply being… friendly.
Minimus did not have much experience with making friends. As Ultra Magnus he kept people at a professional distance. Before the war, before Ultra Magnus, Minimus Ambus had done the same.
Things were different on the Lost Light. Ratchet, the only one whom Minimus could confidently call a friend, managed to worm through Ultra Magnus's high barriers via millennia of working together. Rodimus was less a worming intrusion than a wrecking ball, despite Minimus's best efforts to maintain a proper superior-subordinate relationship between them. Megatron was an ally in the face of Rodimus's ridiculousness. Ten was something of a kindred spirit. Rung… was it strange to count one's therapist and crewmate as a friend?
And Ravage, well, Ravage consistently invited Minimus to get energon with him, provided regular unofficial reports on the activities of the crew, and gave Minimus not-infrequent gifts.
It seemed to be the behavior of one trying to cultivate a friendship. Minimus could not fathom why Ravage would want to become his friend, but if he took the interactions at face value… Yes, perhaps they were friends.
Minimus wanted to ask, but that wasn't the sort of thing you asked of someone, was it? Most mecha seemed to just sort of know it. And anyway their friendship, if in fact it was a friendship, was too new for such questions.
No, Minimus would let things develop as they will. Ravage would show his hand eventually. And if Minimus relished in their conversations and cherished each gift Ravage gave him perhaps more than one ought for a friend, then that was his business.
"Minimus, I'm glad I caught you."
Minimus blinked in surprise, turning from his office door. "Ravage," he said. "I thought we were going to meet at Visage's today. Has something happened? Is it Megatron?" His mind flicked through possible scenarios.
Ravage shook his head. He looked almost nervous. His tail twitched and his claws flexed. "No, there've been no emergencies. But I would like to talk to you. Privately."
"Oh." Minimus reopened his office door. "Come in."
Minimus stepped inside. Ravage followed after, his tail trailing against Minimus's ankle as he brushed past to leap up onto the desk, perching on the corner that Minimus realized he'd begun to think of as Ravage's spot. Minimus hesitated at the edge of his desk, unsure whether it would be too formal for him to sit down.
"I understand," Ravage said before Minimus could fumble awkwardly for something to say, "that it might be a little early to ask this of you. But I'll be going into a rut cycle soon, and I wondered if you'd be open to assisting me with it."
"A rut cycle?" Minimus repeated dumbly. "And you're asking me to help you?" He twisted his digits together for want of any other anchor to steady him against this entirely unexpected development. "Why me?"
Ravage's twitching nervousness melted away to warm amusement. "Well, I'd like to think we've gotten close enough during the past few months."
Minimus's spark fluttered in his chest. There was no hiding the blush that rose to his cheeks. "But- why me?"
Ravage blinked. "For starters, I enjoy that we are of compatible size, at least in your true frame. I've always preferred partners of my own frameclass. But your physical attributes are not the defining factor in my decision." He smiled slightly, a curl at the corner of his mouth. "You're an interesting mech, Minimus Ambus. One I'd quite like to know better."
So they were friends! Or at least, Minimus felt almost certain of it.
A tiny, paranoid portion of Minimus's mind whispered that this was it, this was the moment for which Ravage had been lying in wait. He'd been cultivating Minimus's company because Minimus was the only other minibot on the Lost Light without a bondmate, and thus a last resort to provide the company Ravage preferred during his rut cycles.
Minimus quashed these thoughts ruthlessly. He refused to think so low of Ravage, who was not, for all his skill with subterfuge and sabotage, a dishonorable mech.
"What would happen?" Minimus asked. "If I do agree to assist you?"
Ravage tilted his head. "Have you assisted with a rut before?"
Minimus crossed his arms, flush deepening. "No."
Minimus's sexual encounters, few and far between, had never involved mating cycles. Assistance with a mating cycle was something you asked of your mate, or if you didn't have one, a good friend. And if you did not even have those then you simply worked through it or, if absolutely necessary, took a few days of medical leave regardless of the presence of a partner.
Ultra Magnus never spent his mating cycles with a partner. He couldn't let anyone get too close. And Minimus Ambus, well, no one had ever been close to Minimus Ambus.
"If you did agree," Ravage said, "you'd likely have to take a few days of medical leave. I tend to be… territorial during a rut cycle. I wouldn't be aggressive towards you, of course, but should we attempt to work during the cycle I would likely be rather possessive of you, and aggressive towards other crewmembers." His audials twitched. "I'd understand if you declined due to the inconvenience."
Minimus shook his head. "No, it's quite alright." His flush began to cool, though it didn't fade completely. "What would you do if I didn't agree?"
Ravage shrugged. "I'd take a week off anyway, hole up in Megatron and I's quarters."
"'My and Megatron's,'" Minimus corrected.
Ravage let out a huff of laughter. "Thank you. But anyway, as I said, I tend to be territorial. I don't work well during a rut. My impulse control is… reduced."
Not an uncommon thing, especially for one who leaned into his instincts as Ravage did. Minimus, by contrast, had spent his entire life controlling his instincts. He'd long since learned how to work through a cycle without any significant change to his behavior.
"Would your cycle be longer without assistance?" Minimus asked, pulling thoughtfully at the end of his facial insignia.
"Yes."
Minimus considered the situation carefully. It would be inconvenient to lose a few days of work, but then again, if he didn't agree then Ravage would be losing at least two or three days more that he could have spent more productively. But if Minimus did agree then he would have to interface with Ravage… fairly often… until the rut cycle was over…
Minimus felt a fresh heat rise to his cheeks at the prospect, immediately followed by a pang of guilt. He shouldn't be thinking so eagerly of interfacing with his friend, nor should he be allowing his infatuation to influence his decision-making.
Still, Ravage had asked Minimus for help with the expectation that they would interface should Minimus agree. It stood to reason that he found Minimus at least marginally sexually attractive, enough that the prospect of interfacing with him was not a deterrent.
Subjectively speaking, the pros outweighed the cons. Ravage could return to work earlier than he otherwise might and Minimus… well…
Minimus nodded. "I'll help you. We wouldn't want you out of commission for longer than necessary."
"Thank you for the consideration, Minimus," Ravage replied, amusement glowing in his optics.
Minimus nodded again decisively. "You're welcome." He rubbed his lower lip. "I suppose we should discuss the parameters of the- arrangement."
Ravage hummed in agreement. "First things first, I trust you have contraceptive measures in place? I don't think either of us are quite ready to have sparklings running around the ship."
The mere idea brought with it a spike of anxiety (and, deep deep down with the young daydreamer Minimus had once been, a flutter of wistful curiosity). Minimus shook such thoughts away.
"I have a spark baffle," he said. "But my true frame doesn't have a gestation cap." There had never been any need– not that there'd been much need for a spark baffle either.
"I have a spark baffle too, so a gestation cap should be unnecessary, but I'm sure Ratchet would install one if you wished." Ravage paused. "While we're on the topic of sparks, how comfortable are you with spark-merging?"
Minimus pursed his lips and glanced away, tracing the familiar rivet lines of his office walls. "I'm unsure. I've never spark-merged before."
"Oh?" Ravage's gaze sharpened. His tail flicked from side to side. He took a careful, controlled breath and his sharp edges eased. "It's intense, but quite pleasant. It does require a certain degree of trust and vulnerability, however. I understand if you aren't ready for that."
Minimus swallowed down a prickle of warmth at Ravage's words. Cleared his throat. "Will we have to merge?" he asked.
Ravage shook his head firmly. "No. While my rut coding may encourage a desire for it, I can at least control that impulse." His voice softened. "I wouldn't make you do anything you didn't want to do."
"I… have to think about it more."
Ravage nodded, unperturbed. "I'll take that as a no for now, then. But let me know if you change your mind." He moved easily to the next topic. "Where would you rather we stay during the cycle? I'd have to talk to Megatron to negotiate private use of our quarters. There are also plenty of empty rooms on the Lost Light we could use."
"There's no need for that. I have no roommate, so my quarters will suffice." Minimus wasn't sure he'd be able to stand sleeping in Megatron's quarters for a few days, let alone while tending to Ravage's rut cycle.
Ravage smirked as though he could read Minimus's thoughts. "Sounds good to me. I'm sure you'll feel more secure in your own quarters."
That too.
Ravage hummed thoughtfully, his tail swaying where it dangled off the edge of the desk. "Anything else?" he said, more to himself than to Minimus. "Oh, yes." Mischief flickered behind his optics. "Have you any sexual preferences? Likes or dislikes?"
The flush which had largely faded over the course of their negotiations flared up with a vengeance. "I- not particularly." Minimus looked away, pulling anxiously at his facial insignia.
Ravage laughed, low and wry. "Well, I'm no deviant, but I can get a little rough." He flexed his claws. His sharp teeth flashed with his grin. "Comes with the territory."
"That's fine," Minimus said, far too quickly. "When is your rut cycle supposed to start?"
Ravage accepted the change in topic with an easy chuckle. "A little under two weeks," he replied. "I'll let you know when the rut coding starts waking up. It'll give you a chance to back out before I show up at your door."
Minimus shook his head. "I wouldn't back out on you."
Ravage tilted his head. "I know." The sharp lines of his frame softened. "Thank you, Minimus."
"You're welcome." Minimus replied.
Ravage uncoiled from his place on the desk and stretched, his pedes coming dangerously close to knocking over Minimus's carefully aligned stack of datapads. Minimus tutted in disapproval and received a flash of sharp teeth in return.
"What now?" Minimus asked. Were their negotiations over? Minimus felt suddenly adrift in the wake of the past several, rather tumultuous minutes.
"Do you still want to go to Visage's?" Ravage leapt down from the desk. "We'll only talk of normal things, I promise."
Minimus sighed, soft and relieved. "That would be nice."
Would this change anything between them? Minimus wondered as they stepped back out into the hallway. He could only hope that his… feelings for Ravage wouldn't get in the way. He didn't want to somehow ruin his relationship with Ravage.
After all, Ravage obviously didn't feel the same way.
They were only friends.
It took him a few days to go to Ratchet and request medical leave. Despite Minimus's usual punctuality in such matters, he found himself dragging his pedes, so to speak. It was only Ravage telling Minimus that he was almost certain his rut cycle would start in eight days that pushed Minimus to finally go down to the medbay.
Ratchet was the only one there, to Minimus's relief. Though Minimus held a high level of respect for First Aid and Ambulon, he still preferred Ratchet as his primary medic.
"Minimus." Ratchet greeted him with a raised brow. "I thought inspection day was next week."
"It is."
Ratchet's optics narrowed. "Has something happened then?" He glanced over Minimus's frame. "You seem to be in one piece."
"Nothing's happened." Minimus clasped his hands behind his back. "I need you to sign off on four days of medical leave for myself, starting eight days from now."
Realization flickered across Ratchet's face, followed by a lopsided smirk. "So Ravage asked you to assist with his rut cycle, then?"
"How did you-" Of course Ratchet would know about it, he was the CMO. "Yes."
Ratchet hummed. "Alright, I can do that for you." He stepped away from the sink full of medical instruments, drying his hands on a cloth. Minimus held out the datapad with his leave request. Ratchet barely glanced over it before signing and handing it back.
"Are you two planning on budding a sparklet from this?" Ratchet asked. "Or seeing if one occurs naturally?"
Minimus felt a faint flush begin to warm his cheeks. He busied himself with putting the datapad back in subspace. "No."
"Do you both have measures in place to prevent one, then?" Ratchet's wry humor had vanished, replaced by a comfortingly professional air.
Minimus nodded. "We both have spark baffles."
Ratchet frowned. "It's been a while since I checked on your sparkchamber." He nodded to the nearest medical berth. "Sit down and open up. Let me make sure it's all in order."
Minimus hoisted himself up on the medical slab and, after a bolstering breath, sent the signal to open his chestplates. Another signal opened his sparkchamber, baring his green spark to Ratchet's optics.
Ratchet stooped, peering into Minimus's sparkchamber. "Hm, looks like your baffle was misaligned at some point. Good thing we checked."
"How might that have happened?"
Ratchet shrugged. "Any sort of combat scenario might knock it out of place if it wasn't secured well." He stepped away and returned with an instrument Minimus didn't quite recognize, reaching into Minimus's sparkchamber. "Getting stabbed in the chest could do it too. Or the subsequent surgery to fix that."
Ah, right. That incident was a few years ago now, but then again, there'd been a lot going on at the time, and Minimus couldn't recall requiring a check on his spark since then.
"I trust it's an easy fix?"
"Absolutely." Ratchet pulled back. "Already done. No accidental bitlets for you two, provided Ravage's spark baffle is properly aligned."
Minimus frowned as he closed up his chamber and chestplates. "And if it isn't?"
"There's a small chance he might bud, but with his spark frequency it's far less likely." Ratchet went back to the sink he'd been at when Minimus entered, dropping his instrument into the steaming water. "And when he's rutting he'll be more focused on giving you the transfluid you need to build a protoform than letting you do the same to him. I wouldn't worry about it. Just don't spike him."
Minimus grimaced. He'd nearly managed to forget how vulgar Ratchet could be sometimes. He hopped down from the berth.
"This is gonna be a pretty big step for you two, isn't it?" Ratchet said, scrubbing at the instruments in the sink.
"I suppose." It felt like a big step. Minimus oscillated between being flattered and nervous in turns as each day passed.
Ratchet hummed noncommittally. "Well, tell Ravage to come by if he wants to get his baffle checked." He flashed a brief smile at Minimus. It had a few too many teeth. "I'm sure he and I could stand to have a brief chat."
Minimus scoffed. "I'm sure that's quite unnecessary."
"Maybe so, but let an old mech have his vices. It's been a while since I gave a good wrench talk."
Minimus shook his head. He realized that he was almost smiling and quickly composed himself. "Thank you for the approved leave, Ratchet, and the checkup."
"You're welcome, Minimus." Another smile, this time less sharp.
Minimus nodded in acknowledgment and left. His spark felt a little warmer. It was nice, he thought, to have such good friends.