2018-10-09 M O I S T

From Transformers: Lost and Found

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Date 2018/10/09
Location Lost Light - Command: Rodimus's Office
Participants [[{{{participants}}}]]

The captain's quarters have been restored.

The pink and the flames have not been restored; the paint is regulation. However, the furniture pulled from storage is as it was, with a desk carved and doodled, and a scattering of furniture for mechs of all sizes. He appears to have stolen a point from Windblade, and made a seating area with a couch that can't quite match hers for comfort to the side.

The desk is relatively neat, but there's the inevitable marks of chaos. There are a few holographics pictures projected from a flat, thin base. They feature a number of the crew, Autobot, Neutral, and Decepticon. Chimera, wreathed in smoke; Minimus, frowning at something off-center; Drift, meditating; Penchant, attempting to fire a bow too large for him; Soundwave and Rodimus, aboard a hoverboard, with a selfie taken in the early stages of an inevitable crash.

Penchant does, in fact, enjoy being mobile. MORE mobile. He'd pranced like this before, in his temporary cervine frame, only now everything's kinda'... squishy? He doesn't like it. But it's not going to stop him from his daily duties. He needs a signature from Rodimus, he's carrying the stylus and prepared datapad in his mouth when he sets off the chime to Rodimus' office.

The ship's systems have been updated with the new signatures, so that when Rod checks to see who is at the door, the ship identifies it as Penchant. The ship does not identify his visitor as Penchant's horrifying, organic-oozing form. It just says Penchant. So forgive him when he opens the door to say, "Pench--the *FRAG*?"

Penchant startles and bounces back, then surges forward with an indignant antler toss. "It's-" As he opens his ORGANIC MOUTH, his stylus and datapad fall to the ground. "Ah scrap. It's only temporary! Didn't you get the memo? I don't look THAT bad!" He looks like a petite white deer pied with brown splotches. And that's definitely real fur. And glassy eyes. MOIST EYES.

Rodimus recoils from what he imagines to be a torrential splatter of saliva as the datapad and stylus fall to the ground. It's -- not that bad. But he still begins to reach for the datapad, encounters wetness, and recoils farther back into his office. "Augh, Penchant, what. No. Ergh, look, you don't look bad, you just look -- sticky." He kicks the datapad and stylus into his office with his foot and steps back to allow Penchant in. "Are you leaking? You look like you're leaking." MOISTLY.

"Sticky!?" Penchant chases the datapad inside, and plants a hoof to prevent Rodimus from kicking it again. "Hang on. Just... hang on." He dips to collect the stylus and datapad back into his MOISTY MOUTH, nibbles to make sure they're gripped, and steps forward again. << "I need you to sign this. Going on another trip to smooth relations over." >> If Rodimus can read the text beyond Penchant's snout, it's just a note expressing how much the fleet appreciates the business. << "I'm not leaking. I think I'm just... lubricating." >

Rodimus signs. Hastily. Without looking. He has his eyes sort of averted, actually. He could be signing anything. He could be signing his life away. He trusts Penchant, at least, not to commit him to anything as awful as wearing a hat. "Lubricating, I'm gonna fragging eat my desk, holy scrap. You're lucky you caught me." He is visibly packing. Like there is a case on his desk and he is loading his hoverboard into it, that kind of packing.

Penchant might actually be smiling. It's hard to tell. He flicks his tail and twists back into root mode. He totally didn't need to slobber all over the stylus, which he tucks away with the datapad. "Thanks. Leaving on a trip?" He looks straight out of a fairy tale with his poofy satyr legs on non-grippy hooves. "Business trip?" he teases, pointing out the board.

When Penchant twists back into root mode, Rodimus honestly looks relieved. "Oh, there you are," he says, like Penchant was hiding before. He grins at him, a grin that grows wider as he looks back over his shoulder at the board. "I'm getting the frag out of here until this ship has been decontaminated. Before I start growing anything." He casually ignites his hand, speaking off, burning the last trace of saliva clean. Smoke detectors in his office have been disabled, which probably gives Red Alert fits. "Soundwave and I are going to hit a race. Now that he's asked."

"I- We're not contaminated! Rodimus, do you know how much gunk we produce? From just... walking around? Vortex knows all about it, you should ask him sometime." Penchant snorts at Rodimus' flaming hand and waves him off. "He... signed you up for a race without asking? Is he your manager now or something?"

“Ugh. It’s different,” Rodimus insists. He extinguishes his hand with the clench of his fist. A simmer of not-quite-settled irritation sharpens his words as he says, “Depends who you ask.” Then, sighing, he smiles. It’s tense at the edges, a little resigned, but fond in its exasperation. “He wanted to surprise me. He just started to insist on some other stuff too without telling me why. Or asking nicely. Or asking. Anyway, we figured it out, and I only threw a tiny fit. Nothing on fire.”

Penchant's expression tilts... complicated, settling into a glum sort of smile. "Fits get his attention. I'm not above the silent treatment if he angers me. To be fair, none of the other cassettes are either. How long are you gonna' be gone? Is this supposed to be a secret?"

Rodimus laughs. It’s a little forced. “Fits get his attention, huh? Frag. I don’t want to have to yell to feel heard. You know? Not — literal yelling. Never mind. Bad metaphor. Does he do that to you? Decide things for you? About you?” He’ll get back to vacay details soon, after prying into Penchant’s relationship with Soundwave.

"No, you shouldn't have to throw a fit to be heard. Especially if he has super hearing. He's new to this, his only interest was Megatron for millions of years. From a psychopathic warlord to... you." Penchant can't help the glow in his voice when he refers to Rodimus, palm turned out to gesture at him. There's obviously feelings lingering beneath the surface there, as much as Penchant tries to stifle them.

When asked about how he's treated by his deployer, Penchant shrugs. "He can sure try," he jokes, at first. "...I don't let him decide anything important for me. In the end we're a part of a special team and there's at least some form of rank when there needs to be. Soundwave can be a firm officer, but he trusts us a lot, so he's open to listen when we don't agree on his orders."

Rodimus looks back at Penchant, a little uncertain, but smiling. "At least there's one person who thinks I'm an improvement on 'psychopathic warlord'," he jokes. HA HA. JOKES.

"I'm glad you don't let him -- but that means he still tries, huh? So he's got some bad habits to break." Rodimus looks thoughtful. "How thick do you think his helm is, really?" Not that he'll break it. PROBABLY.

"Of course y- I didn't-" Penchant fumbles over his intense urge to praise. He centers himself with dimming optics, the humor lost on him. "You are a joy to be around. At least, in my experience. And I know you're not fishing for anything, I just... wanted to point that out."

He scuffs his hoof on the ground in thought. "Well, he's been through multiple helms," he points out. "Sure, he tries. Maybe he's compelled to be a caretaker." There's a long pause before he adds, quietly, "Maybe that's just how he is."

Watching Penchant fumble, Rodimus grins, up until he's caught out by that earnest compliment. Caught out, caught off guard, his smile falters into something quieter, more reserved -- and warmer. "Thanks."

Rodimus makes a face when Penchant points out the multiple helms, then grows more thoughtful. "Maybe," he says, with an edge of unspoken words that he reels back in before they quite hit the top of his queue. "I'll resist the urge to cycle him through more helms, though. I think we're running out of spares."

Penchant perks up, his big deer ears rising... then remembers he is most definitely NOT cute to someone who barely tolerates elephants. "Heh, yeah. Anyway, uhm. Have fun? Be safe? Bring back a souvenir. Or several. Y'know, for the other tapes too." He grins cheekily.

"I will," Rodimus promises, then reaches over to ruffle Penchant right between his stupid squishy moist pore-filled organic ears. "Promise. Have fun and keep Minimus and the rest in line until I'm back, okay?"

Penchant hopes his press against Rodimus' palm isn't too noticeable. It's a struggle to regain his professional poise as he makes his way out. "You got it Captain." Rodimus can hear him pronking back through the bridge.

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