2016-09-19 A Cygar is a Cygar
From Transformers: Lost and Found
|A Cygar is a Cygar|
|Location||Lost Light - Docks and Storage - Rung's Office|
|Summary||"Everywhere I go I find that a poet has been there before me." -Sigmund Freud|
Tucked next to the munitions stores in a quiet, seldom-frequented corner of the ship, Rung's Office is notable for the models lining his shelves. There is also a workstation and a couch capable of holding even truly massive bots.
Something wasn't right. Something just was not right. Not right at all. Watts couldn't believe this. Of all the audacity. Of all the nerve! Of all the unmitigated gall! He didn't know what could be done about it, but he must absolutely bring it to Rung's attention. "Rung!" He probably should have called ahead to see if there was a patient still with him rather than bursting through the door uninvited and unannounced, but he was a little distracted at the moment.
Watts shakes the offending datapad from the doorway, plating ruffled in irritation. "This mech is a charlatan!"
Rung jolts in his seat as Watts comes bursting into his office, waving a datapad around. Luckily he was between patients but the unexpected intrusion catches him off guard. "W-watts, what is wrong?" He is quick to stand and walk over, fearing something is wrong with his colleague. "Who is what now?"
Watts shakes the datapad harder, as if that would better tell his frustrations or perhaps even throttle the mech responsible. It won't, obviously, and the datapad did nothing to him. He should not be so rough with books, they are not at fault for what is written within them.
Watts takes a slow, calming breath before thrusting the pad accusingly towards the approaching Rung. "This mech! This Froid! He's a fraud! This classification system that others have referenced and credited to him time and again - this is clearly not his work! The tone of writing changes, the data compiled is in no way related to what he was studying at the time, and this doesn't even follow the themes of his previous or future work! It stands alone in a spotlight of lies because it's very clearly not his own work!"
Rung tries to process the words that are practically being spat at him by his younger coworker. Once he has mentally translated however the psychiatrist is quick to gently, but firmly, take Watts' arm and pull him into the office. He closes and securely locks the door, pausing to make sure there is no one in the hall who may have heard. He had never thought that Watts would piece it together... no one else had (or cared enough to). "Watts, calm down. What are you implying?" Please don't have figured out what he thinks you did!
"Plagiarism!" The worst crime of them all, clearly, as evidenced by the accusing finger thrust towards the defenseless book once more. The book says nothing to defend itself, laying placidly in hand as books tend to do. "This Froid - this fake - stole your research! Your early compilations of notes contain relevant data to the creation of this very classification system long before he published it! Everything pertaining to this personality classification is almost verbatim to what you had written - he didn't even try to hide his theft! The gall of this mech, to steal the work of his own colleague!"
Rung's frown seems to deepen as he slowly walks across the room back to his chair, seemingly much too calm for a mech who was just informed that he had his work stolen from him. The therapist steeples his hands, resting his chin against his thumb, as he stares down at his desk in thought. It is a long time before he responds with two simple words, "I know."
Rung knows there is no way around this, Watts has figured it out and no amount of small lies or misdirections he could say would lead him to any other conclusion. Best to deal with the problem while he can.
"Uh-?" is the oh so loquacious reply forthcoming as expected from a fellow intellectual. Watts's hackles droop and his plating flattens out, surprised by the lack of response and outrage by Rung. This... certainly wasn't how he had expected this conversation to go. Rung was supposed to say something to the effect of 'Why that good for nothing oil spout stealing my work and calling it his own I'll take this matter up with the board of - whatever group we Cybertronians use to oversee these things - post haste!' and Watts would enthusiastically be backing him up to prove that this system that was credited to Froid for so long was, in fact, Rung's, and he would get the credit he deserved and-
"You... know," Watts repeats flatly, face screwed up in confusion. He moves forward, sinking into Rung's guest seat and laying the pad between them. "You know he stole from you? I- I don't understand."
Rung watches Watts deflate, immediately feeling horribly for the confusion and potential betrayal he may be causing the mech. After the other sits, he decides to explain the best he can. "Watts... Every mech has their secrets, especially on Cybertron. I am not outside the realm of this unspoken rule.I have a secret, a secret I entrusted to Froid. He ... betrayed me..." He glances up at Watts, hoping he won't have to elaborate much further but at the same time doubting that such little information will be enough for the aquatic.
Watts frowns slightly, his chin falling into his hand to think, fingers tapping along his cheek. Rung knew he'd been stolen from. Rung had entrusted this mech with a secret, and then that mech had used it against him to steal his work... A secret that was likely still being held over his head.
He shouldn't ask. If Rung was willing to offer up that information, he would do so freely and in his own time. He shouldn't push and pressure. ....but by the Forge was he curious.
No. No no. He can't. He won't.
Why do secrets have to be so INTERESTING??
"So- you're being blackmailed?" Don't ask don't ask don't ask. Restless hands rake back his ear fins.
"I suppose one could say that." Rung replies, technically plagiarising ones work, ruining their reputation and just being an all around intolerable aft does classify as blackmail. "I would not worry about it too much at this point Watts. It has been millions of years and I do not even know what ever happened to Froid," that doesn't mean he isn't still out there however, and hoping that Froid is dead makes him feel like a cold sparked monster. "I would also prefer this information remains secret." He would rather not have his patients beginning to doubt him, even if there is nothing to doubt him over. Plus, if it's revealed he might be asked to tell them what Froid is holding over his head.
Watts frowns deeper, lacing his fingers together and pressing them against his mouth for a moment of thought. Rung... didn't want people to know that the work credited to Froid was actually his. Why? The question burned at the forefront of his processor like a red hot ball bearing, but he didn't push. Sweet Solus Prime he wanted to press, but he did not. He would not. He could not.
His thumbs tapped at the sides of his face. "I... understand, Rung." He doesn't understand at all, really. "I... don't wish to pry but... perhaps the nature of this... Context would help. But if you are not comfortable..."
Rung can see the question burning in his optics and is grateful towards his restraint.. But there it is. The curiosity is slowly overtaking him. "Would it really sate your curiosity if I gave you another vague answer?" Despite his doubt Rung does answer, if slightly, as a sign of trust. Thinking back to the incident already has the therapist frowning even more, "All I am willing to say... is that it involves a disagreement of sorts. Even to this day I will defend my past decision, even if I go to the pit for it." His optics are bright and fierce, an indication of just how strongly he still feels on this matter- whatever it was.
A disagreement. A disagreement that turned into a blackmail worthy secret? Scrap, this has backfired. Now he's even more curious! Dammit. "Oh. I see." He lies! He doesn't see at all! "Well, whatever the context of the disagreement, I stand behind your decision. Any mech that has the gall to hold such a sign of trust over you and use it to steal your research is no friend of mine." Harrumph. Perhaps indignity could nudge out curiosity.
Rung looks in sympathy at Watts, he can almost feel the suffering coming from the mech as he resists his urges. "Thank you for understanding, Watts." And resisting questioning further, "I apologize for you having to learn of my secret, and keep it a secret." He really does feel awful now, making Watts potentially go against his morals for him.
Watts laughs softly. "Well, I'm hardly keeping the same secret. I'm keeping a lesser secret which is the secret of the existence of another secret..." Ahh.. that's a little convoluted isn't it? "Regardless, it's nobody's business but yours, after all. Far be it from me to go running to the rumor mills. I wouldn't even know where to find them!"
Rung chuckles softly at Watts, trying his best to give a small smile. Relieved that his secret is going to stay kept, Rung stands and walks over to him, "Thank you, I truly mean it." A glance at his clock has the therapist going towards his door, unlocking it, "I should get back to work, though. I have a patient arriving in about ten minutes. If there is anything else, do not hesitate to comm me later."
"I'm sorry to have taken up your time with this today, Rung." Watts stands, laying a hand on Rung's shoulder to reassure him. "Still. I'm sorry this happened to you - or, perhaps, is happening to you. Hopefully one day you will be properly credited for your work." He just resists the urge to wrap the other in a hug, collecting his pad instead and following him to the door. "I hope the rest of your evening involves.. ah.. less shouting."