Today the clinic's receptionist might find itself with a rather unusual visitor. What would a mech - a sapient one at that, have any business doing in a medical center for organics?

Well, he didn't seem interested in disclosing any details at the door. Prowl insisted that he needed to see the salarian doctor to discuss the use of any spare lab equipment, and that was it. He was willing to pay or trade for it if necessary. Unusual, but despite the secrecy, the request could hardly be called hostile. He was just being cautious.

With him were supplies equally as odd. One was easily recognizable: a starship-grade spare hydrogen fuel cell. The fuel tank was the smallest one could buy, but it was still a rather sizable barrel at around Prowl's own height. The other was a little stranger and much smaller. It was tightly closed flask of glowing, pink fluid.