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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one drink wont kill you

[C'mon Perceptor, after the loss of your bodyguard, sounds like you need it.]

sorry lost someone too

That's debatable. And depends entirely upon what one is drinking.

[Well, at least the nit-picking is more like Perceptor than the moping.]

... Another?

[Yes, this means he remembers how many Wheeljack has lost. And puts him on alert.]

standard high grade big guy like you can take it

[There's a pause in replies. That one's sent first before the next comes, a few moments later.]

a wrecker

I see. ... Very well then. I'll come to you.

appreciated look for the stack of cubes

[Joke or not? Only time will tell.]

I was planning on locating your energy signature, but if it's going to be as simple as locating a teetering stack of empty containers, well then.[Okay the sass is a lot more like him too.]

you know my energy signature im flattered sarge

[He can sass right back.]

You've spent enough time hovering about my lab, I'd be a fool not to have it memorized. I'm on my way.

[There's no need to text further. He just closes the Link and gets to his drinks, setting one aside for Perceptor when he eventually arrives. Surprisingly, he's still sober by that time.

Probably built up a tolerance over the years.]

[He doesn't say anything when he gets there. He just takes a seat beside the Wrecker, drawing the cube over to him.]

[And staring straight ahead. Waiting for Wheeljack to break the silence.]

...

[It's an awkward, silent few minutes before he speaks up, taking a few sips of his (who knows how many he's gone through) high grade.]

Swoop's gone. I'm down to four Wreckers not includin' me.

[It's hard to admit how much it feels like home.]

[He shutters his optics, venting out a long sigh, before he responds.]

... Grimlock with him.

[The massive dinobot wasn't part of a close team like Wheeljack had, but... it was someone from home.]

[They're both in the same boat. He glances over at Wheeljack, before, with supreme hesitation, setting a hand on his forearm.]

[He tenses up at that news. He knew Grimlock by reputation only. But despite Perceptor's irritation, he knew there was a somewhat fondness.

He knew, because it was the same attitude Perceptor gave him.]

Sorry.

[When that hand touches his arm, he doesn't even flinch. His gaze casts towards that hand, but nothing else is said.]

Mm. I should be the one to say it to you, shouldn't I? Bonds of a team and whatnot...

[Hardly anyone ever notices that. Then again, hardly anyone tries to. He's never been the most... social.]

[This, right here, in the bar, lamenting losses over alcohol, is the most consistent thing he's had to companionship.]

[And so his hand stays where it is.]

Isn't anythin' I haven't been through before.

[His head drops a bit, swirling his drink.]

Both here and back home.

[Seems like this world loved taking the Wreckers away. They dwindled faster than the Police Force ever did. Figures, in a world where death isn't permanent, they're still picked off.

Some luck, huh.]

He was from your world. Probably means somethin'.

All the more reason not to wish it on you again.

[He means it. For all that it's short, clipped, and for all the lack of elaboration, it's sincere.]

[He sips at his cube, free hand still resting, in some kind of quiet reassurance, on Wheeljack's arm.]

Doubtful. It doesn't bear thinking about. It's done with.

[There's a soft vent. A sigh, from the Wrecker as he swirls that cube idly.]

Thanks Sarge. Wouldn't want it on you, either. Anyone.

[And there's a soft slump against him. He's tired, Perceptor. He's so tired.]

Well... you're still here. Which counts for something, I suppose.

[Yeah, for all the snark, he's actually glad Wheeljack's still around. More than just glad.]

[Evidenced by the way he shifts, taking the Wrecker's weight as if it were nothing. Though... his hand shifts. Moving to Wheeljack's shoulder, instead.]

..Same to you. One of the few who's made it this far on this rock.

[He slumps more, practically collapsed on him now.]

I'm tired, Sarge.

... I should probably be more proud of myself than I am, for that.

[He doesn't answer right away, letting Wheeljack lean there, his engine humming quietly, offering warmth and sound.]

You've a right to be.

[It's said softly. With fondness easily missed by anyone who didn't know him as Wheeljack probably does.]

[And before he can mentally talk himself out of it, he tilts his head, leaning it against the Wrecker's with a quiet clink of metal.]

[He feels the helm touch his. It's amazing how much stress it relieved, just to have someone through the same scrap as you. He lost a lot of good men (and women), but as long as he had something constant...

His hand lets go of the cube, eyes flickering to a dim glow.

Maybe he was more than just mentally tired. Nothing else is said as he seems to almost curl inward, head sinking down.]

Edited 2013-11-22 10:02 (UTC)

[Neither of them really need to speak right now, do they? They both know what it feels like, losing people. And they both have grown to need something constant, in this place.]

[He doesn't move, either. He just shifts his weight, to better brace himself against the Wrecker.]

[The hand on his arm moves to loop around Wheeljack's shoulders. For lack of anything better to do with itself.]

[Something constant. He could only hope it lasted as long as he was here. This world wasn't going to get the best of him just yet.

But for right now, he'll sink lower, until his head rests on both the counter and against the scientist's chest. For now...rest.

That hand lets go of the drink, finally stopped for the time being.

Something more comforting than alcohol had taken over.]

[When Wheeljack's head leans on his chest... his engine kicks on. It's not the strong rumble a tank's engine should be. It's a quiet purr. As much a reassurance as anything else.]

[His arm doesn't move, though his weight shifts, offering more support.]

[He'll stay here a while. There's nothing pressing in a damaged, broken lab. There's something here just as damaged, just as in need of repairs.]

[So here, he will remain.]

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