2015-02-21 Frustration

From Transformers: Lost and Found

Date 2015/02/21
Location Habsuites -- Breakdown and Knock Out's Habsuite
Participants Knock Out, Breakdown
Summary Knock Out comes home steamed up.

Knock Out is not in a good mood. Doors on the Lost Light are not easily slammable, so the medic makes up for it but announcing his entrance with a loud string of complaints. "--stupid, blind, /naive/, history revising--" He lifts his hand as if to throw the datapad he holds at the wall, but thinks better of it. "No, you are worth /more than him/," he tells the datapad.

Breakdown is sitting on the end of the slab when Knock Out comes in, reading. It's unclear where the frown deep-grooved into the gleaming red plate of his face is related more directly to the contents of his datapad or what he hears from Knock Out. He sets it down on the slab beside him and sits up a little straighter, grooves seeming to furrow deeper into the plate of his brow as he watches him. He rumbles, "What happened?"

"Our /good Captain/ happened," Knock Out growls, entirely unsurprised by Breakdown's presence after taking it entirely for granted. "He yells at /me/ about revising history while he struts around talking about how the ~Autobots~ were never ~responsible~ for what the Senate did."

Breakdown clanks in a shift of his weight against the slab, his hands falling across the angles of his legs. He considers for a moment spent silent, and the silence extends; when he finally speaks, it is with a low, muted dryness: "Are you surprised?"

Knock Out shoots Breakdown an irritated look for such an obnoxiously astute question. "Well, no," he admits irritably. "Of course not. How could I expect any less of them?" He crosses his arms across the expanse of his chest, datapad still dangling from one hand. "That doesn't mean I still can't be /irritated/."

"Ain't none of them taken responsibility for anything," Breakdown tars them all with an offhanded brush and glances away. He rises from the slab, thumping across the small space of their cabin to no particular purpose. "In vorns, ain't never. You get as irritated as you want but you're gonna waste a lot of energy on it if it's gonna be about that. We're surrounded by Autobots, Knock Out."

"I'm not--" Knock Out frowns at his partner in the way of someone who doesn't like being wrong but knows he is a little. "Ugh. Well, I /did/ at least get Rodimus inches away from spontaneous implosion." After a beat in which he considers Breakdown, he wanders over closer to walk his fingers up one wheel on the other bot's shoulder. "Do you think /they/ feel surrounded, at least? That might appease me. A little."

Breakdown smiles, canting his head to breathe a snort in a soft hiss of air as of a compressor on release. He considers Knock Out in profile, and then turns in another metallic scrape to face him head-on. "I'm sure," he says. "Spent a little time at Swerve's, watched how uncomfortable they all got." He drops one hand to curve across Knock Out's upper arm, closing his fingers in a loose grip that can't possibly be a risk to anybody's wax. "You got captain flashy ready to pop, you don't think we've got 'em all on edge?"

Voice gone particularly dry, Knock Out replies, "Well. One of the Camiens wanted to know -- you know, what this whole /war/ thing was about." He gives Breakdown's wheel a little spin. Hi bb. "I gave her an entirely accurate account."

The narrowing of Breakdown's gaze at this point is not the most flirtatious gesture he has ever made. He shifts his weight back on the heels of his heavy boots and says, "Ain't like our side stayed true to the Cause for the whole war, Knock Out."

"--I gave her an overview," Knock Out amends.

"Scrap, I hope so. How long were you /talkin'/?" Breakdown snorts again and widens his eyes this time. He shifts, reaching to drop his hands to fall lightly across the gleaming red angle of Knock Out's hips, and gives him a particularly skeptical glower as he straightens up. "You remember what our orders were?"

"I remember," Knock Out says, gaze narrowing at Breakdown's skeptical glower. "I was only answering /questions/."

Breakdown tilts his head forward to bump his head against Knock Out's. It's an extremely minor collision. He says: "We knew there was gonna be a lot to get used to about this scrap."

"Ugh," Knock Out complains again, even as his head bumps willingly against Breakdown. Bonk. "You're very frustrating sometimes," he tells him.

"So are you," Breakdown tells Knock Out. He pats his face in a lightly scrapey slide of metal fingertips before he, slowly, begins to withdraw. "I expect Captain Flashy doesn't think so in /quite/ the same way I do, though."

"Well I should /hope/ not." Knock Out blanches quite visibly at such a suggestion. /Attention/ from /Rodimus/? What a nightmare. "I think he's more fond of turncoats."

Breakdown makes a low, rumbling chuckle in the depths of his frame: "Heh." He slips back over to the recharge slab so that he can sit down, once more, on the very end of it. Quieter, and less humored, he says: "There's some as call us that, now."

"Who?" Knock Out replies, somewhere between dismissive and indignant. "And the DJD don't count. I don't even want to think about what they're doing."

"Me either," Breakdown agrees with some fervence. He makes another rumbling noise inside his depths and then goes, "You still spittin' sparks out your exhaust?"

"I wasn't before!" Knock Out promptly tries to claim.

"Guess that means you don't want a buffing to make you feel better," Breakdown diagnoses with a sardonic edge to his smile. He reaches over to pick up his datapad.

"Well I didn't say -- Wait just a--" Knock Out stands there, hands on his hips, datapad tucked in one hand, and considers. "I didn't say /that/."

Breakdown looks up at him in a complacent attitude of silence, ticking his thumb lightly against the datapad he holds.

It is a journey, winding his way around to requests. "I wouldn't say /no/," Knock Out says. "I mean. That might be -- nice."

Breakdown's impassive face might be more believable without the faint twitch of smile peeking through at one corner of his mouth. He watches Knock Out instead of his datapad.

Knock Out makes a sound that is like an exasperated, impatient huff of breath. "Please?" he finally lands on.

Breakdown sets down the datapad and leans over to the side to reach for the kit, beckoning Knock Out with the gesture of his other hand. "Since you asked so nicely," he says.

"I'm always nice." That decided and universally agreed upon, Knock Out sets to settling himself in an amenable position for his partner to lavish attention on him. You're welcome, Breakdown.

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