2017-02-17 Lovesick

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2017-02-17 Lovesick
Date 2017/02/17
Location Chimera and Gyro's Habsuite
Participants Gyro, Fritz
Plot A Midventure Night's Dream
Summary Gyro's usual ire plus unexpected and sudden affection for someone is a natural recipe for an upset stomach.

Gyro has kept mostly to himself since volunteering for the vaccination. Soon after he returned to his habsuite the mortician experiences a little nausea and dizziness, but he is still convinced it's worth getting out of his shifts in the medibay. The mortician settles himself at the habsuite's workstation and uses his new-found freetime to work on some of his puzzles. That's just what he's doing when he hears a knock at the door. Pausing, the mortician sets the puzzle piece in his hand aside and patches into the habsuite's terminal. << If you're here for Chimera, she's away. Go, >> the terminal barks, adjusting it to a volume high enough to be heard through the door.

Outside of his shifts, Fritz has been mostly sticking to his habsuite, a downturn in his general mood keeping him from seeking anyone out or even just sitting in the common lounge to watch his fellow crewmembers socialize. He's been spending his time with his sphere instead, or reading, or playing around more with the Lost Light's mainframe. Seeing as he hasn't been hauled off or thrown into the brig yet, no one seems to have noticed his hacking, but he also hasn't tried to get at anything too confidential so that probably has something to do with it. It takes his mind off his troubles, at least for a little bit, though they always return after a while. Eventually he settles on doing something about these worries, knowing they won't go away otherwise, and decides to take care of the problem of Gyro's misunderstanding first.

It is a small, nervously-shaking creamsicle who knocks on Gyro's habsuite at present, two hands wringing, one knocking, the fourth holding a carefully spun energon treat. One of the mechs he'd delivered those Earth holiday packages to had given him one, and he thought, why not use it to apologize to Gyro? Because he was still convinced he'd done something wrong, even if he didn't know what it was. The sharp response to his knock is met with a violent flinch, and Fritz hesitantly calls out, "I-I-I'm not, I'm h-here to see y-you!"

Gyro heaves a heavy sigh. How hard is it to ask to be left alone on this ship? Too much, obviously. Nor has he completely let go of his suspicions regarding Fritz, even if he had heard no news of Motherboard being attacked or captured. The last thing he wants to do is talk to the likes the mail carrier. It seems he'll have to be a tiny bit more forceful in his attempts to make the mecha go away. Stumbling to his pedes, fighting his nausea, the mortician stumbles over and keys open the door.

When his optic locks on the other mecha, Gyro stops dead in his tracks. It could, to an outside observer, look like Gyro is waiting for Fritz to say whatever he came to say. At the moment, though, there is a more wild storm going on instide the moritician's helm.

<FS3> Fritz rolls Bravery: Good Success. (7 7 4 3)

Fritz is shaking as he waits for Gyro to either appear or yell at him again; he's expecting the latter, frankly, his own processor a wild storm of anxiety and doubt, he should've just left it alone, he shouldn't have come, it was stupid to think he could make this okay, bring it back to neutral terms instead of the pure venom Gyro seemed to have for him now...trying not to let his knees knock too loudly, he's surprised when Gyro does appear, and doesn't look angry like he had in the common lounge. Fritz takes a deep vent, managing to stop the trembling of his frame, and carefully holds up the treat.

"I wanted to say I'm sorry, again...for the other day." Fritz even manages not to stammer as the enertreat is presented with two hands, the other two clasped behind his back. "For making you think I Sorry. That was all."

Gyro expects to feel a familiar swell of anger when he opens the door: and he does. But there is something else, something that the mortician cannot identify. He stands in the doorway, frozen in gridlock as this new emotion comes surging forth and wars with the more familiar feeling. Whatever it is, Gyro quickly decides that he doesn't like it. He never asked for it, and whatever it is leaves him standing as helpless and prone as a newbuild.

What he should do is shove Fritz away and slam the door. Instead, his gaze remains locked on the food that the other mecha is offering up to him. His tank twists at the sight. Before he knows what is happening, Gyro makes a retching sound. There is absolutely no way to make sense of the violent emotions rampaging through his helm, seeming to be such opposites. There's only one option: be so torn up by it as to make himself sick. Leaning forwards, Gyro's body convulses as he tries to hold back a purge.

<FS3> Fritz rolls Reaction+reaction: Good Success. (1 1 1 7 8 3 6 8)

Things seemed to be going okay, or as okay as they could; Gyro still hadn't screamed at him, or accused him of anything, hadn't slammed the habsuite door in his face, and then. Fritz's optics go wide, mouth dropping behind his faceplate at Gyro's very violent, negative reaction to seeing the treat. Pulling it back against his chassis, he instinctively backpedals, so fast that he hits the wall behind him with a hard clank while Gyro retches. "A-A-Are you o-okay?" he gives, voice high-pitched with worry and fear, stammer returning. "I'm s-s-s-sorry, I'm sorry, I d-d-didn't mean t-to - I j-just thought - I-I should take you t-t-to the m-medibay!" That's what one does in this situation, right?

Thankfully, the overwhelming feeling of nausea distracts Gyro from his warring emotions for a time. Instead of paying attention to what Fritz says, the mortician stumbles back to his habsuite and heads for the nearest disposal. Before long, he is tearing the visor from his faceplates and emptying the contents of his tanks into the bin. His visor lands on the floor with an audible clank. Some part of his brain module notes that perhaps the symptoms of the vaccine were more severe than he first thought.

Only after he has completely emptied his tanks can Gyro find the strength to address his guest again. The mortician glances up. For some reason he can't find the energy to care a virtual stranger is seeing him like this. His bad optic, long blind, flickers a weak crimson. Strings of oral fluids mixed with purge drip from the gaping wound in his faceplates. Usually he'd sieze on such a moment to terrify this intruder away, but perhaps he's too worn out to manage it. That's what he tells himself anyways. << It's fine. I know the cause, >> the terminal drones.

<FS3> Fritz rolls Bravery: Success. (6 4 3 8)

Fritz stays pressed against the hallway wall while Gyro purges, shaking, plating clattering with the movement. When the retching ends and Gyro looks up, Fritz freezes, optics growing, if possible, even wider, and he stays stock still for a few seconds, before...forcing fluid down his intake, Fritz carefully moves forward, into Gyro's room and, slowly, cautiously, watching Gyro the entire time, bends down to pick up the visor and hold it out in one of the hands not currently hiding the treat from view. "Y-You do?" he manages, swallowing again. "Are you sure you d-don't...I can t-take you...make sure y-you get to a m-m-medic safely..."

Just because Gyro is suddenly feeling... something for Fritz, likely a result of a confused mental state in his current condition, does not mean he suddenly forgets everything else. Almost out of instinct, when Gyro spots movement out of the corner of his optic his hand lashes out. He sends the visor spinning from Fritz's hand and flying into one of Chimera's pelts strung up on the wall. When he realizes what he did, Gyro pauses. << ... Sorry. >>

There is a long pause before he speaks again. << I know where to find a medic, and I have words for him. >> Oh does he have words for Lackluster.

Fritz jumps when Gyro suddenly swings at him, taking several panicked steps back, servos clenching up against his mouth, the one holding the enertreat nearly crushing it with the way it's been squeezed beneath his fingers. Trembling again, Fritz squeaks out a, "I-I-I-It's okay!" Social butterfly he is not, but he can tell the difference between when he's startled someone and when they're actively trying to hurt him. He's had enough experience with the latter to know.

"O-Oh, I...I know...I know you know wh-where the medibay is..." Fritz is completely misunderstanding what Gyro is actually referring to. "I just th-thought...since you're s-sick...I could help..."

Help. For a while, the word gives Gyro pause. It's been a while since he had real, honest help. How long has it been since he's seen Motherboard? Maybe he misses the idea. Maybe that's what is causing this confusing mess in his mind. Maybe his anger with Motherboard had grown so much he's finally snapped.... Fritz had tried to help him, though, with no strings attached. And what is his reaction? He can still feel the disgust and anger seething deep within his spark. That is his reaction. << I do not think that would be a good idea. >>

In the silence before Gyro's terminal speaks for him again, Fritz carefully moves to where the visor had, yet again, landed, picking it up a second time and holding it out a distance away from where the mortician stood, but could clearly see, him offering it. He continues to attempt to help without asking for anything in return, it seems, though his faceplates shift toward confusion when Gyro says it would be a bad idea. "Why?" He can't stop himself from his own curiosity. Once in a while it's enough to overpower his anxiety. "If you're contagious it's okay, I can get checked over when we get there."

The truth threatens to tear out of Gyro. 'You're making me sick,' he thinks, groaning quietly. For so long Gyro has only cared for Luna 2 and Motherboard. That is how it is meant to be, the sole purpose he has given to his life. Why he would start to stray from that now...? The mortician shakes his helm vigorously and tries to wave Fritz away. He can always construct a new visor, but what he does here and now he can never take back. Would he betray what he has built his life around?

Gyro feels his tank churn again. << Whatever is wrong with me, I don't think you can help fix it. Thanks for trying, though. But you should leave. >>

Fritz's confusion turns into a concerned frown, shoulders slumping even further into his usual slouch, making him look smaller than ever. The visor is pulled back against his chassis and held there as if it could provide any comfort for the current situation; he doesn't seem to realize he's done it, or what he's clutching at for support. He doesn't understand, suffering his own whiplash from all of this. From asking for favors, to venomous accusations, to illness - what is going on?

"I know I can't fix it, I'm not a medic." Gyro you're going to have to actually be clear with what you're saying if you want to stop him misunderstanding everything. "I just thought I c-could...walk you to the medibay, make sure you got there okay. That's all." But even as he says that, Fritz is already shuffling toward the door, still holding onto the visor, the enertreat definitely crushed now in his hand.

Gyro glances out of the corner of his optic, watching as Fritz stumbles back. For a moment he feels... guilt? Is that what it is? It's not an emotion that he feels often, but he knows he does not like it in the least. He wants it to go away. All of it. But if Fritz really wants to help... The good side of Gyro's faceplates twitch into a frown. Let Fritz think he is helping and get him out of the habsuite at the same time?

Such a simple and elegant solution. The only hitch.... Well, if Chimera gives him slag about it he can hold his own. He will worry about it later. << Go. Find Chimera. She can help, >> he demands. The mortician curls himself around the disposal and tries to hold back another retch.

<FS3> Fritz rolls People Pleaser: Good Success. (8 8 6 1 3 5 8 5 1 3 1)

Fritz is nearly to the door by the time Gyro finally responds, and his entire frame relaxes in a wave of rippling, settling plating. Oh, oh, he can help, after all. He's not quite sure who Chimera is, honestly, but he knows if he asks someone he should be able to figure it out. Not wanting to admit that he doesn't know the mech that designation belongs to, or even what they look like, Fritz nods so hard he looks like a bobblehead. "Okay, o-okay, I'll go get Chimera. You stay here and rest....I'll get her quickly, I promise!" Visor held in a vice grip, Fritz nearly trips over his own pedes as he hurries to turn and bolt out of the door into the hall, hustling to locate this mech Gyro was asking for, processor focused on this task as ardently as it focused on delivering mail to the correct person. After all, this was a sort of delivery in itself, wasn't it, and that was Fritz's specialty.

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