She couldn’t help but groan in response to his call. It wasn’t quite “hello”, it wasn’t quite “go away”, it was just.. a noise to acknowledge to Sideswipe’s unexpected presence and a gentle warning that she’d be lifting her helm up soon. Slowly.
Very slowly.
Crossfire was so dead after this. He couldn’t keep interrupting her self isolation episodes just because he was starting to get concerned about her health. This was a tried and true method of dealing with slag. It just needed time, and more high grade.
“You’re not here because the big guy sent you, right? Because he worries too much, you really shouldn’t listen to him.”
“Since I don’t know which big guy you mean, I don’t think so?”
Sideswipe sits in front of her, hands clasped, and knees resting into the crooks of his elbows.
“I come bearing a selection of gifts, but first I wanna. On a scale of 1 to I-demand-to-be-shit-face-right now, whatcha feelin’? ”
“Crossfire.” A vague gesture at the ceiling is made, to which the supreme responds with a low hum so his presence could be known. He is always here, watching, listening, and monitoring the status of his crew and captain. When any of them - but especially the captain, who’s been in several depressive episodes under his watch - begin to show signs of health deterioration, he intervenes. Sometimes with a call to a trusted friend; Sometimes with leaving the door unlocked so a friend can come in anyway. He’d never tell which it was, so long as the captain got the help she needed.
“Shit faced sounds good, whatever that means.” She forces her visor to glow up to something resembling a smile as she folds her arms under her helm into a makeshift pillow. “What’s shit faced?”
Blackguard stares into Tormentor’s visor, then looks down at his Lieutenant-Lieutenant-green tinted claws, then looks back up to his visor, then back again at the claws…
They weren’t together, but they liked to play grab-hands with each other.
Seems fake, but she’ll roll with it as well, smiling and waving off his enthusiasm as Tormentor’s changes the subject so flawlessly she doesn’t even notice. “Are you kidding? We’re only just now getting a protoform ready. There’s no way we’ve got any names picked out. Besides, we got to see how the lil slagger looks too after he’s settled on a shape so we can have some idea what to name him like.”
Initially, Tormentor thinks she’s looking at the cube in his hand and glances at it too. He could use a refill. It’s the repeat of the motion that makes him realize it’s the lighter specks of grey on his fingers is what she has her optics on. He smiles to himself knowing that if Lieutenant realized it the same thing he wouldn’t have come along to meet Blackguard and Redstrike.
“Oh, I thought you had to name them before they came out.” Then again, it’s like MTOs, they don’t get names unless they survive. “I’d love to see pictures of them, if that’s okay. I’ve never seen a protoform before.”
“I guess you could.” She shrugs at the idea, neither opposed to it or for it. The form of the newspark did matter to her though as a lot of the names that were springing to mind made reference to either an altmode, a color, or kibble layout. Picking from any of them seemed presumptuous, and coming up with neutral names that weren’t awkward sounding was difficult, so she and Redstrike were waiting it out. Something would come to them eventually, she was sure of it.
Speaking of ‘come to them’…
“Hey.” She lightly taps the back of her hand to Tormentor’s arm, then nods towards the front of the ship as Cybertron was coming into view. It was difficult to see, as it neither glowed with the essence of energon or with the toxicity of dark energon, but it was there; A dull grey orb in the vastness of space, still barely able to reflect the light of its nearest star off its ruined surface.
It was a downright depressing sight, one which affected Blackguard greatly as she set her drink down with a sigh.
“And I’ll send you some pictures.” She promises softly, staring at their destination as it drew nearer and nearer. “Soon as the little spark’s clear and stable, I’ll send you all the pictures we take of them.”
She couldn’t help but groan in response to his call. It wasn’t quite “hello”, it wasn’t quite “go away”, it was just.. a noise to acknowledge to Sideswipe’s unexpected presence and a gentle warning that she’d be lifting her helm up soon. Slowly.
Very slowly.
Crossfire was so dead after this. He couldn’t keep interrupting her self isolation episodes just because he was starting to get concerned about her health. This was a tried and true method of dealing with slag. It just needed time, and more high grade.
“You’re not here because the big guy sent you, right? Because he worries too much, you really shouldn’t listen to him.”
Her plating flares at the sound of the Lieutenant (Lieutenant)’s voice and Blackguard scrambles to sit up from the sofa, panicked and alarmed but trying to not look like she was so. The wide-spread rotors and beaming visor were a dead giveaway though and she struggles to rein them in before resetting her vocalizer.
“H-Hey. Hey. Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.” Or even know that he was coming. Somebody forgot to call ahead - or maybe Crossfire forgot to forward the message. She’d figure which it was later. For now, she’ll hurry over to her desk and pick up a datapad, opening up her finances and scrolling through the records to double check that payment had been sent to the crew of the… whatever it was Lieutenant (Lieutenant) and Tormentor were on. “Did I forget to pay you guys? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
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