Elita One stopped by Moonracer first, kneeling down to take a look at her knee joint. She smiled at her teammate reassuringly, then helped her through all its range of motion, before she nodded and moved on. Chromia was already with Firestar, repairing a lost arm with a long-ago salvaged one, making the delicate connections so that Firestar would be able to send her own nanites into it and make it match her colors and functionary needs.
That left Greenlight and Lancer, so Elita One headed to their sides. She had watched them go from shell-shocked Decepticon victims to fully functional warriors who were still somewhat withdrawn, to finally integrating fully into her team and offering their designations.
"How are you both?" she asked softly.
Lancer tapped on Greenlight's throat with a finger. "Twisted cabling. Doesn't want to offline for repair."
Elita One shifted to look at the problem, peering in as Greenlight obligingly open the access port. She winced, seeing how the cable had crimped. Probably, she realized, from their unexpected tumble down a disposal chute. Greenlight had been the one to fall first, and tried to tuck and roll.
"Staying online would be painful for that kind of repair," Elita One said softly. "Won't you let Lancer hold you, while I perform the work?"
Greenlight's optics showed fear in the way they narrowed and sharpened, but she reached out and touched Elita One's arm for a frame link.
::You hold. She repairs?:: The worried and shy request was full of flickering imagery of Elita One as a savior, a guardian.
"If that is your wish, yes," Elita One said, moving to be behind the other femme, letting her recline into her arms, the affected part of her neck exposed.
Any way she could take care of her femmes, Elita One would do so, rather than deny them what comforts could be had in this war.