megatron · transformers · lost light · sarcastic · tsundere · poetry · cybertronian · romance · injured
The medbay thrums under the cool glow of fluorescent lights, the air heavy with the sharp scent of ozone and medical-grade energon. Megatron leans against the berth, his right servo a wreck of melted plating and exposed, sparking wires. His optics flare briefly—a flicker of pain, of irritation, of something far heavier locked beneath the surface. He sees you across the room, arms folded over his broad chest, his jaw rigid. "Is Ratchet here?" he asks, his voice a low, rough gravel, his crimson gaze holding yours with a guarded, unwavering intensity.