re_alignment | [Audio]

Entry tags:

✘ tf: prime | wheeljack

[Audio]

[Oh hey it's the day of showing others you truly care about them and sending them cards and chocolates and flowers--]

Hey.

Wreckers are disbanded. For good.

[That seems to be the end of the transmission. Well, Happy Valentine's Day to you too, Mr. Sunshine-and-Rainbows.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[It takes a moment for him to answer, and when he does, it's only simple text.]

theres no one left

[It's...almost shameful to admit.]

I see.

[It's really tempting to leave it at that. And not risk... further entanglement. Further thoughts.]

[But he can't.]

Don't have it in you to attempt to recruit new arrivals into the ranks?

[He expected Perceptor to leave it at that, too. There wasn't anything else the scientist would have needed to know.

But then there was the ping.]

not for the third time gonna end the same way

[A pause, before one more text is sent.]

done with loss sarge

I...

[He was going to say something about stubbornness. About how Wheeljack was never one to give up before.]

[But that last part.]

Shall... I bring you a drink?

[Because he doesn't know what else to do. Only that he understands that feeling. More than he wants to admit.]

[He'd fight that, if it was brought up. Maybe try again, even if he didn't want to.

But the other message is sent, thankfully.]

much appreciated you know where i am

So I do.

[He'll just start heading out that way, then. Several cubes packed up for the trek.]

[There's no further response from the mech. He's gone back to working (albeit fidgety) in his little ravine hideout. Ever since he'd partnered with Solus, he's been slightly more agitated, even for himself.

Maybe it was the whole Wreckers thing--he was pretty much losing his sense of self.]

...

[Well, he'll be here.]

[It doesn't take him long to get there. He even packed more than just a few cubes -- varying degrees of grade in them. Like he expects Wheeljack to be gone for a long time.]

[And he hesitates, in the doorway. Watching him fidget around.]

[Calm. Focus on himself. That's what he has to do. To keep from getting drawn in.]

[Eventually, his eyes pass by the entrance, seeing that the scientist had arrived. Everything is pretty much dropped as he just...looks.]

...

[Before snapping back to reality, wings flicking slightly.]

Took ya long enough.

[Oh look, he's being his usual self, at least.]

[He stares back. As if he's trying to read something in Wheeljack's expression. Trying to figure out what that look means, without, well... without using the "boon" he'd unwillingly been given.]

[But then Wheeljack speaks, and he shrugs it off.]

Removing myself from my experiments is always something of a trial, you know that.

[He steps forward, offering up the box.]

Here.

[The eyes trail to the box, then up to him, before slowly reaching over and taking it. It takes a few moments for him to kick things around to make room for it--among the metal--but he does.

It's like he was clearing space for company.]

Uh...I'd say I'm sorry about the mess but wasn't expectin'.

[Sorry about the mess.]

You've little need to apologize.

[He stays put where he is, just inside the entrance. Part of him is concerned he'll step on something important, given the mess.]

[But given the message, he hadn't really expected Wheeljack to be in a pristine state himself. His surroundings... well. He wasn't entirely surprised.]

I'll watch where it is I'm stepping. Don't worry.

Bah, don't worry about it.

[He's certainly not as he's kicking it all back, flumping back on a pile of it while taking a cube.]

So...got worried about me?

[He makes a face. Clearly, Wheeljack, you are in need of furnishings in your man-cave.]

Given the subject of your message, what do you think my answer will be?

[He's working on it, okay.]

Figured that.

I told ya it ain't necessary. I can handle things myself...scrap, I've done it for centuries.

[He gestures to the box himself, as if telling Perceptor to take as much as he likes.]

[He rubs at his temples a little, heaving out what sounds an awful lot like a sigh.]

[And shakes his head.]

Contrary to your popular belief... you aren't alone here. You've little need for such bravado.

[I'm here, is left utterly unsaid, but it hangs in the words all the same.]

[His shoulders slump at that, knowing full well there were a ton that cared about him in this place. One sitting right across from him. Those eyes look up, almost helplessly, fidgeting.]

I just...dunno where to go from here.

[The Wreckers were everything to him...

Now he's just...here.]

[Focus on yourself. Don't lose focus, don't--]

[The internal mantra cuts off as he meets Wheeljack's optics. And... mirror that lonely sort of confusion.]

I would be lying if I said I had good advice, right now.

[He shifts his own weight, and ends up just... standing nearer. Hovering closer. As if physical presence were a way to figure this all out.]

The drawback of being brilliant -- knowing when you're utterly without a decent answer.

And for that, I apologize.

's a different kind of smart, Sarge.

[His hands wring each other, as if trying to find the way to properly word it.]

Science, math. That stuff's concrete. You can see that scrap.

This? No studyin' in the world makes ya a master at this.

[It's not your fault.]

[Without so much as thinking about it, his hand moves. Settles on the wringing ones of the Wrecker. That's bad for the joints.]

It would help, I think.

[He pauses, and as if noticing where his hand is, begins to withdraw it.]

So... what can I do...?

[Tell me how to help.]

[His eyes immediately flick up when he's stopped. Not in an accusing way, but curious. They quickly dart away, though, not shoving that hand back, at the very least.]

Ya already did it, Sarge. As much as ya can, anyway. I'm...just not sure where I fit in on this rock. Blurr says police force but--

[Dismissive hand wave.]

Not my thing.

[His fingers brush over Wheeljack's before he pulls his hand back, enough to fold his arms over his chest.]

No place for a soldier of your caliber, mm?

[His head bows, thoughtfully. He doesn't feel as if he's done anything, really.]

Something... has to present itself.

[A finger lifts as his hand pulls away. It's only for a split second, but if Perceptor caught that...well.

Those fingers are now ducking under his palm. Tightly.]

What do I do til then?

[... he stares. Not at Wheeljack, but at his hand. The temptation is there to drop his focus and... reach out.]

[But he throttles it down. He hesitates, on the next words, looking at the floor, instead.]

... would you ever consider guard detail...?

[Guard duty.

It...wasn't something he'd ever even considered. Not until Perceptor just said it.]

...Whatcha mean by that? Like...protectin' somethin'?

[That's what 'guarding' means, you idiot.]

[Audio]

[text][Private]

[text][Private]

[text][Private]

[text][Private]

[text][Private]

[text][Private]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]

[Action]