Because you know how Whirl can't resist tentacles.

[whirlybird_of_prey]

[Locked FROM Skids.]

[Whirl is in his quarters, which you might at first think is an armory. Pretty damn close. Thankfully, Megatronus doesn't make him clean his room or keep pins in his grenades or other annoying things. ]

[Behold Whirl arming up. He likes options, okay? ]

So.  Hear we got us some undead problems.

['Scuse him while he racks a shotgun.]

You see Skids, you let me know.  Or the usual: slavering, tentacles, undead sounds like GRARGGFSF, that sorta thing. 

[Because Skids is a pal, and Whirl will gladly shoot him in the head.  For, uh, for the greater good?]

[Locked to Skids]

Hey, Mr. Conveniently Lost Memory.  Just a little trivia.  

I hear I have a positively scrumptious spark.

Ding ding ding, that's the dinnerbell.

Comments

[action][Gotta die with a good song playing!]

[skidaddle]

[It isn't as close as Skids wants him to come, but it is close enough--too close for the temptation of that nearby spark to let him lie still any longer.

With--eerily--no noise this time, Skids is just up, claws reaching out to grab out at Whirl's chest--or chest guns, as it were.]

Need....your spark...

[When he hisses--the translator catches it.]