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2016-12-08 Forward

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Forward
Date 2016/12/08
Location Lost Light - Command: Rodimus's Office
Participants Drift, Rodimus
Summary Drift and Rodimus catch up like bros do.

A small plaque outside the door reads 'Captain's Office -- Rodimus of Nyon'. There is a drawing printed out and taped to the door. It's hilarious and a little inappropriate.

The room is fairly regulation. Where flames once ringed the doorway and magenta colored the walls, the ship's normal coloring carries through.

Center of the public space is Rodimus's desk, which is covered with doodles and scraps of some ancient Cybertronian dialect. More often than not, it's covered by datapads he hasn't quite gotten to yet. The other furniture in the room is suitable for a bot of Ultra Magnus's class -- or, with some adjustment, a much, much smaller minibot.


With Rodimus's return to find the ship flailing it's way out of yet another disaster, he hasn't had a lot of time to sit down with Drift and whine, but fear not: he can always make time for that. "But why are there so many repoooorts," he is currently whining, his face flat on the desk, his spoiler angled in a defeated slump. "That's what Hound's for. He did good, right? Of course he did. Soundwave might've gotten drunk off his tapedeck but I can count on you and Hound, right?"

Drift is doing what he can to comfort Rodimus in these trying times, leant over the desk and rubbing his head soothingly as he vexes over paperwork. "You've been Captain for how long and this still surprises you?" he teases. "Hound did great. Probably the best out of all of us, to be honest." He surely didn't attack anyone or anything like that. Speaking of.. "Erm, yeah. You can always count on... us." He doesn't sound too convinced.

Being the close study of others that he is, Rodimus lifts his head at Drift's hesitation, half a smile write on his features. "Okay, well, Hound did great." Sobering somewhat as he looks up at Drift, Rodimus rises and turns slightly to sit on the edge of the desk, reaching for Drift's hand. "You?"

As soon as Rodimus reaches, Drift does too and entwines their fingers. "Not so great. There was.. an incident." One that probably wont be showing up in Rodimus' stack of reports seeing as Drift hasn't filed anything about it. "I did something. While we were infected or.. infested, whatever you want to call it." He looks away, the shame weighing down on him. "I drew my blade on Quicksight."

Rodimus looks a little doubtful. He doesn't call Drift a liar or anything, but as their fingers tangle and he squeezes his hand, he says, "I thought no one died." He has so little faith in Quicksight's ability to get away.

"No one died," Drift says, his gaze slowly wandering back to Rodimus. "But if Quicksight wasn't so fast.. I really don't know." Still finding it difficult to look Rodimus in the optics as he admits to his sin, Drift opts to just stare at their joined hands instead. "At first I just wanted to scare him, make him sweat a little, but then it got real. Way too real. I.." He clutches their hands with his other one and squeezes. "I used Wing's great sword on him. I had it to his throat.."

Rodimus reaches with his other hand to rest it on the back of Drift's neck, pulling their heads together. He presses their foreheads close. "What did he say that set you off?"

"What didn't he say?" Drift says with a pathetic laugh. "Called me a traitor. Betrayer. Deserter. You know, the typical spiel he always gives me anytime I make the mistake of being in his field of vision." He leans into the press of their foreheads. "He talked about Deadlock and what a hero he was, an inspiration to him and everyone he knew." But that still isn't what moved him to strike, was it? "He said I was taking advantage of Skystalker's friendship, that I would betray him the second I used him up."

<FS3> Rodimus rolls Chirolinguistic: Success. (8 5 3)

'No,' Rodimus presses firmly, emphatically into the palm of Drift's hand. No. NO. "I have seen what you would do for a friend, Drift. I watched you cast off everything you'd worked for because of me. He only said that to make you mad because he know how much you value your friends."

It's taken many hours filled with frustration but all the hard work has paid off. Rodimus can successfully communicate in one-word sentences with his hands. Good job everyone! "But do I value them? Do I really? The parasites don't put ideas in your head, they just make you act on your base instinct. My base instinct was to attack Quicksight with no regard to how it would affect Skystalker. What does that say about me? About who I really am?"

That's not something that Rodimus has an immediate answer to. He just rubs Drift's neck, and, eventually, "It says that, in your heart, in the deepest part of your code, your first instinct is violence." There's probably more to that, but he pauses to work it out.

Those words are far from comforting but the neck rub is doing wonders at keeping Drift from crumpling into a sad heap of despair. "That's what I was always best at, isn't it?," he says quietly. "Everytime I think I've moved past what I used to be, I'm reminded that a person can only change so much."

"We all have these ugly pieces inside of us, Drift." Rodimus speaks quietly, the metal of his body warm as he releases Drift's hand to wrap his arms around him. "These things we can't help. We went through four million years of war. Do you know how many members of this crew can't even remember anything else? How many of them couldn't even think of what would happen after? It's inside of us. All of that violence. You're not the only one." He draws back to look Drift in the eyes, his gaze bright and shining between them. "But that's not what matters. What matters is what you choose to do. You couldn't choose when you were infested, or infected, or whatever. But you can choose now. You attacked Quicksight with Wing's sword. What are you going to do about it?"

Drift leans into the embrace and returns it with clinging arms. His mind is constanty awash with regret and shame, but in moments like these, when he's close enough to Rodimus to feel the steady vibrations of his systems, there is nothing but peace there. When he's met with that shining gaze, he can't keep himself from smiling just a little. "I'm thinking I should go to Tailgate and file an official incident report, to start." It shouldn't be too much of an investigation considering the cameras littered throughout the practice room.

Gaze warming with approval, Rodimus says, "That sounds like a good idea." He lifts his hand, cupping the side of Drift's helm, and rubs his thumb back along the finial of his helm. He doesn't pinch. He's being good. "And?" Oh no, he wants more.

Drift feels the touch to his finial and he shivers with anticipation, expecting a pinch. Just do it already! He knows it's coming eventually! "And... take my punishment and serve my time?" Is there more? What else could he do?

<FS3> Rodimus rolls Totally Not Jealous Of Wing: Failure. (2 5)

Nope. No pinch. Just another brush, light with the backs of his knuckles, running up and down the edge. Rodimus says, "What about Quicksight?" After a pause, and with an obvious grimace, he asks, "What about Wing?"

Drift allows himself to relax when Rodimus surprises him and forgoes the pinching for the more calming finial stroke. "If you're suggesting that I apologize to Quicksight, I'd have to say that I don't think that's a good-" He stops short when Rodimus namedrops Wing, and takes note of the grimace when he does so. Interesting that of all the things in Drift's past, Wing is the one Rodimus is having so much trouble accepting. He's trying though, and that means something. "Alright, I'll give it a shot."

"Maybe, uh, not in person," Rodimus suggests. He flattens his palm over Drift's helm, rubbing down the back of his neck. "Throw a datapad under his door or something. I mean it, though, about Wing. I know how much that sword means to you. Do you to -- I don't know. Do anything? Like meditate extra hard?" Serious, he says, "I'll totally be there for you if you need to. I mean, I might recharge or something. But I'd be there with you."

"Meditation and a ritualistic cleansing of the blade," Drift states. It's what he did when the sword was used to skewer Ultra Magnus, but this time he'll be cleaning it of his stain, not Overlord's. "I would like that a lot. Even if you fell asleep during," he says with a small smile.

Rodimus rocks forehead, pulling Drift's head down so that he can brush his lips over the top. Sitting back and grinning at him, he says, "That sounds like a good idea. You know I will always be there for you. Not always awake, but there."

That tiny smile on Drift's face becomes a fill-fledged grin after that display of affection. He drops his arms around Rodimus' waist and draws him in, pulling him across the table until he finally lands in his lap. "What more could I possibly ask for?"

"If I were you," Rodimus says, more of an eager scramble than a seductive slide to his move toward Drift, "I'd have like a million more things I'd ask for. And if you were me, and you asked for them, I'd say you deserved them. I know it's awful, being reminded of everything that's inside of you, and of everything you've done, but I care more -- I have to care more, if this quest means everything -- about what we build going forward. All of us. Me. You. The Decepticons. The Autobots."

Drift shifts a bit in his seat, getting more comfortable now that Rodimus has joined him in it. "The neutrals," he adds. Gotta get some representation for those guys too. "I think that despite the setbacks-" Like Overlord, killing Titans, parasitic infections that make everyone go crazy, "-we're still ahead of the game. That fact that we have all these different factions and colonists all in one place and the ship hasn't exploded into mass chaos says a lot. It wasn't that long ago we were still killing each other on the battlefield.."

He's quiet for a moment after that, just staring at Rodimus with a sight twinkle to his optics. "I just thought of something else to ask for."

Sliding against Drift as he gets comfortable, Rodimus leans in a warm drape. He looks like he might argue the mass chaos, but leaves it. Close enough. Minor chaos is a state of every day being, anyway. "Oh yeah?"

Drift flashes Rodimus a toothy grin and hooks a finger under his chin to put his face in prime smooching position. "Yeup," is his eloquent response before he places a tender kiss to Rodimus' lips. Okay, so he didn't really 'ask' for that, he just did it, but you get the point: he's trying to be charming here!

Consider Rodimus charmed, then, because he melts against Drift with a delighted and delightful inevitability. Okay. Enough serious stuff. There's smooching to do

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