re_alignment | [Video]

Entry tags:

✘ tf: prime | wheeljack

[Video]

[It's a relatively short broadcast. Wheeljack seems to be making a lot of those recently.

Well, when he's not acting crazy.]

If ya need me, I'm gonna be at the Hub for...

ever.

[And it looks like he's already started. There's a small tower of cubes lined up.]

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Wouldn't mind it.

[The answer's almost immediate. If there's anything drinking can solve, drinking with someone else can solve it better.]

Better hurry, might be already slammed.

On my way.

[And he is, as the roar of turbines will attest.]

((ooc: join the action thread below? Start a new one?))

[ooc: Let's just continue here! Makes things easy and tag order doesn't have to be a thing.]

[There's a soft smirk as he hears those thrusters. Maybe it was the fact that he was too tired to argue anything, or at the point of not caring.

But plane jets didn't always make his proverbial neck hairs bristle anymore.

Now all he had to do was wait.]

[It's not long before the Seeker appears in the doorway, pausing only long enough to locate the Wrecker before making a beeline for the table. He waves for the bartender's attention, then drops heavily into the chair opposite Wheeljack.]

How many have you had?

[Just so he knows how many he needs to catch up.]

[Wheeljack almost doesn't register Thundercracker taking a seat next to him. Although whether that's from the high grade or from his whole apathetic nature to the situation is undecided. Either way, his head tilts up at the seeker when he takes a seat, if only slightly.]

See for yourself.

[His hand gestures to about four cubes, and then wrapping around his fifth.]

'pologies. Not exactly patient.

[There's a soft smirk on his lips though. Well, HE thought it was funny.]

[The Seeker quirks a grin of his own.]

Never took you to be, Autobot.

[Flagging down a server, he soon a collection of cubes on his side of the table as well. In another sparkpulse, two of them are empty.]

At least that's out in the open.

[Another swig of his drink before he sets it down, optics gazing up, slightly dimmed from the 'buzz'.]

Hate this fraggin' place.

[TC empties another cube himself, then pauses to enjoy the mild effects blooming through his systems.]

Yeah? Why's that?

[Not an argument at all, but considering for himself, with all the problems this place has, he actually /prefers/ it to home, he's interested in hearing others' thoughts and opinions.]

[Where does he even start...]

I was first in line to get here, apparently. Been here since the FirstForged decided to pull this little stunt. Yannow, helpin' em build this place from the ground up.

1.5 human years ago.

[He takes a sip, eyes cast down.]

Guys come and go. People ya relied on. And you're still here.

Huh...

[Another swig of high grade.]

Been here almost that long, I think. Coming up on... [Give him an astro-second, yes he can still math.] 1.25 human years. Almost. Another week or so, I think.

And yeah, that's tough. S'kind of nice to be someplace where you can rely on people, though. While they are here.

...s'way better'n home...

[Yep, guess who's not really drank in long enough that he has a pretty low tolerance these days. Someone who's more prone to talk about stuff he wouldn't normally dare.]

Edited (GDIT HTML fail /and/ typos...) 2013-11-25 07:03 (UTC)

Can't say I agree.

[There's a swirl of his cube, idly watching it swish from one side of the glass to another.]

It was easier back home. Ya knew the turf, ya knew...who to fight.

What to do.

Here it ain't like that.

...mn.

[He empties the cube in his hand and sets it down to reach for another. How many's he had now? ...not enough.]

Difference of realities, maybe. [snorts] Or just difference of faction.

S'easy to know what t'do an' who t'fight when that's decided for you. Get pointed like a fraggin' gun. "Go kill 'em." But they haven't done anythin'. "Kill 'em anyway." An' you fraggin' better do it. R'else...

'Least here we get t'choose what to do. [glances up at Wheeljack, realizing the Autobot probably always has] Well . . . some'f us more than others, compared t'home.

...'n here I thought you guys loved doin' that kind of scrap. One's back home sure got their kicks in torture.

[His hand goes to his chest, where Starscream had once scraped an energon prod across. Granted it'd been buffed out, probably by a medic. But he could still feel that running across.]

Guess that'd be why ya like this place more...

[His gaze starts to wander, slouching more and more on the table.]

[He grimaces, wings flicking at the word "torture." He knows a few things about that . . . from both sides.]

Most do, 'mong other things. M'not like most. F'I'd known the slag I was gettin' myself into… [buzzsnort…because, no, he probably still would have, unless he could have convinced Starscream and Skywarp otherwise as well. He follows his trine. Always.]

We were gonna change the world. We were the strong ones, the ones had the courage t'stand up an' do somethin' about . . . about ever'thin'. [He empties another cube, the bottom /clacking/ solidly on the table as his hand drops once more.] Nothin' in the fine print about fraggin' decimatin' it . . .

[Not exactly the best bar chit-chat, huh.]

Yeah? What'd ya think the Decepticons did, bud? Don't really sound like the type to give hugs.

[He chuckles, darkly, at the thought though.]

'm not really good at bein' an Autobot, but...never thought I'd ever go to that side.

...So ya were sold somethin' faulty.

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