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Description
From Race Against The Clock, part of the Ram, Expanded series:
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Tron looked over at Ram, who hadn’t moved, and spoke softly. “Ram. Ram.”
The actuary didn’t appear to hear him; his expression had become distant, the smile gone from his lips.
Tron sighed and approached him, reaching out to clasp the actuary’s hands in his own gloved palms. ~Ram. Stop.~
Ram jerked slightly, looking up at the monitor with confusion. Then he looked down at his hands, cradled in Tron’s broader palms. In an entirely subconscious reflex, Ram had been worrying his thumb over the discoloured scarring that crossed his palm – remnants of the shoddy healing that had patched over the damage his disk had done during the uprising. The scar was a slightly darker gray than the rest of his armour, not immediately noticeable unless one looked hard, but the spot Ram had been rubbing had begun turning shades of damage-red again under the abuse.
He curled the fingers of his good hand in on themselves and looked away; his gaze fixed on the four squares centred on Tron’s chest, rather than meet the other’s eyes. “How long…?”
~A while,~ Tron answered, gently running his fingers over the irritation and soothing it back to gray with a healing pulse of energy. He kept Ram’s hands after, stroking a thumb over the more delicate circuits that lined the back of his hand, projecting /comfort. ~You started when he brought up the MCP.~
Ram closed his eyes, making a quiet noise of frustration. Even now, over 200 microcycles since the failed revolution, the memory files still plagued him. Being accused of working for that bit-face had obviously struck a circuit, if he was doing things on autopilot. ~I thought I was past that.~
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A bit of illustration for my lightcycle-chase rewrite. Whatever possessed me to do not one, but two programs in Encom-circuit arrays clearly made me insane. Never again, I say. My hand will be cramped for decades.

Excuse, just...gonna go hug Ram forever.

Description
From Race Against The Clock, part of the Ram, Expanded series:
-------------------------------
Tron looked over at Ram, who hadn’t moved, and spoke softly. “Ram. Ram.”
The actuary didn’t appear to hear him; his expression had become distant, the smile gone from his lips.
Tron sighed and approached him, reaching out to clasp the actuary’s hands in his own gloved palms. ~Ram. Stop.~
Ram jerked slightly, looking up at the monitor with confusion. Then he looked down at his hands, cradled in Tron’s broader palms. In an entirely subconscious reflex, Ram had been worrying his thumb over the discoloured scarring that crossed his palm – remnants of the shoddy healing that had patched over the damage his disk had done during the uprising. The scar was a slightly darker gray than the rest of his armour, not immediately noticeable unless one looked hard, but the spot Ram had been rubbing had begun turning shades of damage-red again under the abuse.
He curled the fingers of his good hand in on themselves and looked away; his gaze fixed on the four squares centred on Tron’s chest, rather than meet the other’s eyes. “How long…?”
~A while,~ Tron answered, gently running his fingers over the irritation and soothing it back to gray with a healing pulse of energy. He kept Ram’s hands after, stroking a thumb over the more delicate circuits that lined the back of his hand, projecting /comfort. ~You started when he brought up the MCP.~
Ram closed his eyes, making a quiet noise of frustration. Even now, over 200 microcycles since the failed revolution, the memory files still plagued him. Being accused of working for that bit-face had obviously struck a circuit, if he was doing things on autopilot. ~I thought I was past that.~
-----------------------
A bit of illustration for my lightcycle-chase rewrite. Whatever possessed me to do not one, but two programs in Encom-circuit arrays clearly made me insane. Never again, I say. My hand will be cramped for decades.

Excuse, just...gonna go hug Ram forever.