2016-04-06 Boy's Night

From Transformers: Lost and Found

2016-04-06 Boy's Night
Date 2016/04/06
Location Lost Light: Recreation -- Swerve's
Participants Blast Off, Vortex, Swindle, Whirl
Summary Just some Combatibros hanging out and catching up, Blast Off can't help but regret setting this up.

Ever since Blast Off spotted Vortex at the Meteor Surfing Event, the Combaticon shuttle hasn't been able to get him out of his mind. He hasn't really seen or talked to his old teammate in a very long time. He's often wondered how he has been, of course, Blast Off cares about his old team even if he's loathe to admit it. Even now, it's not as simple as just saying *Hey Vortex, how've you been? Let's catch up*. No. With Blast Off it's never that simple.

Instead, Vortex gets a few messages, eventually CCed to Swindle. With text like: *Where have you been, anyway, Vortex? Don't expect me to report back to Onslaught if you get yourself killed doing something stupid like meteor surfing.*, followed by another message: *In fact, I think I need a drink after dealing with the sheer foolishness of that event. It's a good thing Swerve's is having a special on wine today. It's also good that I don't actually care. About any of this. Because you know what? Do what you want. Just don't expect me to get involved.*

And indeed, Blast off sits in Swerve's, sipping a glass of wine even as he sends that to the other Combaticons. Hint, hint.

Vortex does not check his messages often. A habit he developed to keep himself focus and on task while on a mission or interrogating. But as soon as he does read the message, he double-checks the date and rushes out- leaving destruction in his wake. Well, he did almost trample and/or cut three bots as he ran, rotors spinning with excitement. He bursts into Swerve's, gray and blue lights splaying over the entrance. Oooo~ Fancy... And then he spots Blast Off. After two strides, he practically leaps towards his teammate, vaulting the table and landing in the larger mech's lap.

"Blasty! Oh, it's so good to see you! Your face. I saw you in that alt of yours. But this is so much better! It was so nice for you to invite me." Vortex makes himself comfortable on the lap Blast Off, more than careful of his rotary blades. "How long you been here? I didn't make you wait, did I?"

Practically bouncing as his alt mode blares out more 'SICK JAMS', Swindle really can't contain the excitement of a proper lads night with his combatibros. Having Blast-Off around was nice for the most part (except for his hideously quaint, scum bag, WRECKER, boyfriend) but TEX WAS MAKING HIMSELF KNOWN. Oooooooooh! This was going to be a laugh and half. Shifting form and swaggering through the doorway, Swindle punctuated his little light show with cry of pure delight, eloquently denoting the mood of this evening as he spots his erstwhile battle brothers. "THERE'S MY BOYS! BLASTY, TEX! Hope i didn't keep ya waiting flyboys!" Swindle let out an airy chuckle as almost skipped to join his larger team mates, not seeming too nonplussed about their intimate moment as takes a seat and pulls his trusting flask out of his ol' compartment. "Aaaah, like old times I see ~"

If Vortex *does* come, Blast Off decides, he is NOT going to let the copter get under his (metal) skin. Nope, he's going to remain aloof and not let Vortex press his buttons. He's got his dignity to maintain, after all. Things have changed, it's after the war, it's been awhile and he's in control. This will totally work, right? This is about when he takes a sip of wine- then suddenly realizes there's a rush of rotor blades coming his way. NO NO NO, /personal space/, Vortex, remember /personal sp/-oh /smellllt/. There's only time for his optics to widen and his frame to stiffen in dread before he's got a rotary in his lap.

His reaction is immediate, big black hands jabbing forward as he tries shoving Vortex off his lap. "GET OFF!!" It's possible that in his knee-jerk, forceful reaction he's managed to send them both sprawling onto the floor. It is certain that his wine glass goes flying. So much for aloof. Just in time to look up as Swindle arrives. "SWINDLE. Stop reminiscing and help me remind him what *personal space is*." He's happy to see you both, too.

Vortex falls to the floor with grace while his violent, violet friend falls with about as much grace as a rock. Good ol' Blast Off. He barks a laugh as he bounces back to his pedes- leaving one teammate on the floor. "Swinner! Aw, didn't know you were coming too." Vortex more or less dances around the table before wrapping his arms around Swindle, hands absent-mindedly rubbing some armor seams. "How ya' been, my monetary friend?"

Ah! About as huggy as ever! Sorry Blast Off, but Vortex was never a fast learner on that front. To be fair though, the hustler was more than happy to receive the positive physical contact poor BO found uncomfortable. "You spawn of a glitch! How could I go another cycle without seeing my too favourite high fliers!" Swindle squeezes back, it was nice to have someone wanting hue his brain out for once (looking at you Tarn, jerk) "Eh, pretty average I assume for most on the ship. Business is doing fine though!" He responds chipperly, patting Vortex on the back and giving Blast Off a beamign grin and a wink. "How are you fellas? Heard you were... was comet canoeing or something?"

A loud HUFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF announces to the entire bar that Blast off is not happy with this situation. Surely a very familiar sound to his two teammates. However, at the very least, Vortex finally springs away and Blast Off has his precious personal space again, if not his dignity. The shuttleformer looks rather cross as he pulls himself up again, straightens his chair, calls for a cleanup of his spilt wine and orders a new glass, and sits down once more. Those violet optics glare at the other two now. "And I've only said five trillion times, my name is NOT Blasty." He's got some dignity to protect here, after all, and- oh wait. Ok, come to think of it, whether there is any dignity left in this situation at all remains to be seen. He just hopes his wine gets here soon.

So. Yes. Comets. Blast Off brings a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "The captain held an incredibly foolish and ill-advised meteor surfing contest, and it behooved those of us in Navigation to keep an eye on things and rescue those who inevitably ran into trouble. Including him," He jerks his head towards Vortex.

Vortex stands up straight, servos casually drifting up to finger Swindle's neck cables. His claws pluck a few gently. "You got it, /Shuttlebug/." He has plenty of names for his teammates. And if they didn't like them, they'd just get another one. It's what made Onsy cave, after all. The copter laughs again. "Oh, it was great, Swinner! If only that slagger didn't steal my rock- I could have made it further in the atmosphere! You know how hard it is to get those level of burns? Totally missed it because of lizard breath- ugh! And I have to work with him! 'Combat' is a station or something?" He uses air quotes to punctuate the word Combat. Then he sets that servo on Swindle's helm, claw gliding in a figure eight fashion on there. "I love fighting as much as the next guy but Combat is more Brawler, you know? Now, Security! That's were I belong... Think they give ya badges on the Security team, shuttlebug? Like cops..." That would be so cool.

Some onlookers might be slightly... well, disturbed by Vortex's tactile familiarity. Quite honestly, that was because those rubes didn't know Tex's game. Interrogator in all things, this was nothing new for Swindle. He grins at his buddies go on about their adventure (or was that just his neck struts tickling?) "Pffft, sounds like a pretty 'rocky' time to me! Must've been hellish if you had to watch for bots like Rodimus. Maybe get your lubricant pressure checked out Blast! Wouldn't want you bursty a thruster on us!" Taking the opportunity to take a swig from his canteen, he gives a bright grin up to his rotor bearing brother, using his other arm to give him a affectionate little punch. "No doubt! You seen some of the shady folks here Tex? You'd get 'em talking in a nanosec! Course, you could always bum it in logistics with yours truly!

OH GOD that's even worse. Blast Off stiffens again as he's called *shuttlebug*, then, with a soft sigh, he decides he's just going to ignore it. Yes, totally and completely ignore it and it will go away. Surely. The one bright spot for him in all this? His new wine glass arrives and he eagerly lifts it up, a hatch in his faceplate allowing him to drink. Ah. Feeling a little better, Blast Off places his glass down, fingers still clutching the stem, and regards his two teammates. His huffy demeanor has been replaced with a more aloof stead. Ah, family.

"You said Grimlock did that? Well, you can't expect a dim-witted groundpounding dinosau-" Blink, glance at the groundpounder currently seated at their table, back to Vortex, "...dim-witted dinosaur to actually behave at all. That said, he'd better watch it. You mess with one Combaticon, you mess with us all." He takes a another sip, then thinks to add with a small shrug, "Well... I mean probably. If I had time. Ask Swindle." The glass comes down and he eyes Vortex. "You seem to be looking better than you did when I pulled your rotors out of the fire, though." He then turns to face his SUV bro, giving him a somewhat haughty sniff, "My lubricant pressure- and my thrusters- are just fine. I am in my element out there, after all. It's just that... well, as I said, Onslaught would consider me responsible if something happened to either of you out there. Would be... quite a bother to explain." That's the only reason, honest. he takes another sip of wine.

"If by 'fire' you mean Rodimus. Just couldn't let me cling to that frame a feeeew kliks longer. I was close enough to kiss his brand." Maybe closer. Vortex leans forward, pressing up against Swindle. "Awww... You're worried about us. Ain't that just the cutest thing, Swin?" He chuckles, finally moving from behind his teammate to a seat between them, servo dragging along Swindle's back leisurely. He rests his arms on the table, grinning beneath his mask. "Hmmm... Something seems wrong with this picture... I think- AH! I need a drink. You buyin', shuttlebug? You /diiiiid/ invite us afterall."

Swindle could only grin at Blast Off's thruster in mouth. "Oooooh, ouch, ooooof! My poor groundpounding wheels, how will I ever recover! Here, let me right about it on my blog! Primus, fancy checking that shuttle privilege of yours?" After a moment of feigning hurt, he chuckles at Vortex. Boy was he laying it on thick today. Must of been really wanting to test the waters. "Pfft, I know right? I mean, you don't get to be as a star on a weapons dealing scene without a face like mine Texy." To the offer a drink, Swindle just pointed to his own and took another swig from his flask and making a point to ignore the tickles up his back as Vortex sits down.

Ew. EW. What. Blast Off gives Vortex one of those *looks* as the rotary speaks of Rodimus that way. "But..but why would you even- what reason would you possibly have-" UGH. he drops it. He doesn't want to know. This is followed by a frown and immediate denial. "I am not worried about you. I'm... simply stating the facts. About... responsibility. And Onslaught." Yeah. The frown under his faceplate lengthens. "...What's wrong?" Then another soft huff of annoyance, and Blast Off nearly rolls his optics as he brings the wine glass to his lips once more. More denial. "I did NOT invite you, you lot just showed up all on your own."

Swindle's little (justified) jab causes the shuttleformer to tense slightly, optics glancing from one side to the other before he leans back into his chair, looking away. "I just..." He can't quite bring himself to an apology, so instead he offers actual small talk. "Anyway. I haven't seen you in awhile either, Swindle. No signs of trouble I take it?" Well, if the DJD could be considered small talk. And then, perhaps feeling a teeeny tiny bit conciliatory, he adds, "However, if a free drink will get you all out of my circuitry.... fine. The next round is on me." He eyes Swindle's flask. "Or... whatever you care to order here." Pause. "Within reason."

Vortex's grin under his mask widens. "Of course you didn't invite us, why else would you tell us exactly what you're doing when you send us not only one but TWO messages. Please, shuttlebug, I've seen Brawl manage a better facade." He tucks his chin into his palm, pede sliding up and down Blast Off's leg under the table. "Ah! Are we gettin' hammered? Slag yeah, like the good ol' days- when the jobs were many and limbs were flying!" Off Autobots. It is almost shocking how quickly you could tear one apart. "Order me somethin' rough and tough. Then I can tell you aaaaall about my roomie and this mech yesterday." And them sweet chassis guns.

"No excitement on my end, Blast Off. I mean, got terrorised by our 'fearless' leader, Soundwave. Monster made me-" Swindle allows himself a cold shiver throughout his frame as he utters the forbidden word. "Give people /REFUNDS/." Shocked into silence, he dumps the flask back in his pocket dimension. "On second thought, I'll have a quart... no, a pint of tainted motor oil for me. I need to wash that horrible image out of processor." Giving Blast Off a look that promises to get the next round (probably). Noticing Vortex turning his attention on Blast off again, Swindle slings his arm around Vortex, in some attempt to prevent any comfortableness too Blast Off. He whispers "Ummm, Vorty, love ya man, but maybe lay off Blast with that stuff. I love messing with him too, but he's current thing is with that Whirl guy, sooooooooo..." Swindle gives another well meaning grin to larger, greyer mech. This was his buddy after all, he'd understand the caution.

Blast Off grumbles something under his breath as Vortex states the obvious, but at least he doesn't try outright denying it this time. He looks away- and immediately freezes, armor plates bristling like a cat's fur as he feels that leg stroking his. Then he *hufffs* and pulls his leg away, scooting it in close to his own body under his chair. Glowering, he tries to ignore this all, distracting himself by ordering them some of the strongest drinks in the house. This will go well. The drinks soon arrive and Blast Off wastes no time finishing his wine so he can lay into his Moon Rocket.

His attention focuses on Swindle next, his optic ridges furrowing down a little. "He did *what*? Tch. He ought to simply let you do what you do best. It also suited the Combaticons, and it would suit the Lost Light, as well." The shuttle raises a hand, beckoning a bartender for said tainted motor oil, missing the whispered exchange between Swindle and Vortex.

Vortex is more that willingly to lean into that arm around him, forgetting that foot rubbing. His rotary starts to turn as he processes this information. Oh, why Swindle didn't say... He nods a bit conspiratorially. "Ooooo~ Got it." He says quietly back, shuttering a wink. Then he grabs his drink, facemask snapping back with a 'snnnk!' "Ahhh, this is the stuff!" He takes several large gulps before setting his mug back down loudly. Rivets of energon dribble down the edges of his mouth. "AH! Screw Soundwave! We'll just have to earn ya a fragton to make up for such a heinous crime, Swin." He keeps looking over at Blast Out, unable to keep his grin down. It shows off all his sharp teeth. "But enough about /us/, what about /you/, Blast Off? Up to anything lately?"

"See! This is why I need you as my PR guy BO! Need a like tampograph with that shit on it 'Combaticons: We do what we want.'" Giving Vortex a little elbow nudge as he laughs, he seems thankful enough Vortex gets the situation. Last thing Swindle needed was being murdered by any rotary bots. When his drink arrives, Swindle nurses it, as per his useal MO with drinking. "Honestly, what he needs is a proper partner, an unofficial, more charismatic second for his command of all us con's! Like....okay, like... Sounders to Lord Megatron! I mean, my management skills are great and I loved to put my name forth, but really, just me musing." Oh dear, Tex's grin was out, still, Swindle couldn't help but smile. Aaah, just like those starry, battled blasted nights on Heleus Theta.

Blast Off has no idea of the disaster that was just averted. He returns to his drink, the Moon Rocket sending a nice zing down his fuel line as he swallows the first taste. It also helps a little as Vortex sends that toothy smile his way. What's that about? The shuttle frowns, then considers the question. Hmm. So much has happened lately. Everything from battling nasties in Tailgate's insides to finding Ultra Magnus likes love poems to his romantic date amongst the stars with Whirl. Whirl, his Autobot ex-Wrecker boyfriend and one he's not sure Vortex even knows about yet. Um.

He takes another, larger swig of that drink. "Nothing much. The usual day to day things. I work in Navigation, so they rely on us not to get lost out here." Small talk finished, he takes another drink. He does shoot a look Swindle's way at the PR remark and states with flat earnestness, "Exactly. I've always lived by that motto." If there's a joke here, Blast Off isn't getting it. "And well... if you ever offered your services as Soundwave's second in command, you would certainly have my approval. You always presented a good *face* for us as Combaticons; you would be skilled representing the Decepticons, as well." You'd also maybe provide some nice bro-benefits for your old teammates, too, right?

Vortex snickers a bit. Not off that easy, brother... "Yeah, Swinner, you got out votes- that's more than any other Con could get collectively. We need a real Con's Con. Soundwave's got all that official and bureacratic slag under lock and key but you-." He turns to Swindle, turning the smaller mech to face him before gripping his arms. It's a gentle and encouraging grip. "You connect." He pauses and then grins, releasing Swindle and punching his arm. Now, back to his drink...

Well... it was only kind of a musing but... something in the way his team mate's speak makes a fire in his spark ignite. Taking a thoughtful sip, he ponders aloud further. "Yeah. I mean, lets face facts here. We we're among the first Decepticons to ever join the cause. I mean, Soundwave as well, but like you said, total bureaucrat. Scares people. We need a con with them like... that Tailgate fella. Marketable, is what he is, surprised he wasn't gotten a doll or something...maybe I should get on that." Taking another thoughtful sip, suddenly Swindle has TWO big sales pitches to make.

Blast Off is feeling increasingly amiable every shot of this Moon Rocket he takes. he nods his head to the two of them. "Indeed. Real... people person. I can't stand people but *somebody* has to, and you're the best mech for the job." Another nod of the head and another drink. "And yes... it hasn't been easy, being Decepticons surrounded by a bunch of Autobots. If Tailgate can get an important job then..." He frowns into his drink, "How DID he get that job anyway? Or does he even have it anymore? I haven't bothered to keep up." He probably should, Combaticons and the Brig have a way of consistantly meeting.

"No business-business when we're trying to get plastered, Swinner. Them's the rules." Vortex licks the energon at the edges of his mouth, gloss running over his teeth. Have to make sure they're still sharp. And they were. He sucks in a deep breath before turning his attention fully and wholly onto Blast Off. "SO! Mister do-nuthin'... Sure you don't wanna confess now? Because I'm pretty sure you're doing something alright." Partially standing up so he can really lean in, he asks, "So, tell me all about this Whirl that's tickled our shuttlebug's fancy. What's he like? Is he a 'roll over' kinda mech or a 'he'll roll you over' kinda mech? Give me those dirty details." He flashes his teeth once more in a smile, rotars starting to spin in anticipation.

... Oh Primus. Oh actual Primus. Swindle looks between Blast Off, then Vortex, THEN BLAST OFF, THEN VORTEX. Some things really didn't change... especially in that Swindle's usual reaction is. With an apologetic look to Blast Off, Swindle downs the rest of his oil, the thick liquid threatening to burn his throat. "Hmm, you know what fellas, i got a pitch to write to Soundwave and a few other con's BUT HEY, lets do this again, alright! Love you both so much!" With a smile (and an exasperated eye brow furrow of 'REALLY DUDE?' at Vortex) Swindle accidentally leaves a few shanix for the next round on him and leaves Swerve's to not get at all implicated in this embarrassing mess.

Yes, this is going pretty well, actually. Blast Off shoots down another shot of the Moon Rocket, even relaxing a little into his chair. "Yes, no business..." he murmurs into his drink, taking another swallow. And then spits it out in s spray of liquid as he nearly chokes on Vortex's next question. All the calm aloofitude he had managed to obtain is gone in a flash as those violet optics pale, widen and stare. He both stiffens like a board and slams back into his seat at the same time, just barely managing to maintain a grip on his drink. Well, at least for a moment, as he slams it down in a panic -and it goes spilling off to the side anyway. He doesn't even look, too busy coughing as something went down the wrong line, thumping at his chest before whipping his head back up at Vortex- and shooting an almost forelorn glance as Swindle ABANDONS HIM.

"WHAT!? No. NO. I..." He blinks, panic flickering on the edges in both optics and voice. "WHAT? NO. I am //TOTALLY// the one rolling //HIM// over. I-I MEAN...wait, I can explain. WAIT NO. I don't have to explain anything at all!" He finishes with a loud HUFFFFFF as his mind races. SMMEEELLLT. His deer-in-the-headlights staring continues. There is no way this could get any worse, right?


Whirl's arrival is announced with his customized light show which, quite frankly, he is getting sick of seeing. When you com into Serve's as often as he does, it gets old quick. Once inside, it doesn't take him long to spot Blast Off and.. yes, that's Vortex alright. This should be fun. "Sup guys?" he askes ever-so-casually as he slips in to sit beside Blast Off and force himself into whatever conversation they're currently engaged in.

Ah! Look at that! The artillary-chested! Vortex leans into the table more, now having to put his knees in his chair while his elbows keep him propped up. "Cyclops! Ain't it nice to see your face again. You just missed it, Blasty spit out his drink!" There's a loud, but genuine, laugh after that. "He was just about to tell me all about this mech he's been seeing. But someone doesn't seem to want to kiss in tell." He looks over at Blast Off, giving his chassis a meaningful slap. "Now, 'sup with you, deep throat? Here to claim that offer? Thought I scared ya off with the way you scrambled outta the room."

Oh frag. The moment that light show starts-with Whirl's colors- Blast off already knows he's doomed. Because OF COURSE Whirl would show up now. Of course. The shuttleformer wants to sink down into his seat until he can't even be seen anymore. Until he disappears. But he can't, and here comes Whirl, and.... time for another drink. He guzzles it this time, then manages a very tight, constrained, quiet "...Whirl" while staring straight ahead into the pits of hell and despair. Woe is him. WOE.

It still can't get WORSE than this, right? There's no wa-wait no it gets worse. The mention of /rolling over/ and /memories/ brings a fresh bout of choking and sputtering. The poor mech can't even think of anything to say in between bouts of stammered wheezes, finally giving up and downing another large swallow of his engex while taking on a distinctive blush as circuits heat with embarrassment- and possibly other things. He just sits there, frozen, beyond even the slap, until that last sentnece snaps him back to the present. Wait, what? He whips his head around to stare at Whirl. "WHAT." Then he whips his head around to stare at Vortex and repeats, now with just a hint of danger, "/WHAT/."

Whirl's optic flickers at the (admitedly hilarious) nickname. "For the last time, I didn't eat that coin, okay!?" But what other explanation is there? "And I didn't get scared, I aint scared of anything. I just.." He tries to think of a good excuse. "Had other things to do, that's all." Perfect.

"What do you mean WHAT?" the cyclops asks, turning to Blast Off. "Oh, I guess I didn't tell you yet, but I met Vortex the other day. He's exactly like how you described." He swings an arm around Blast Off's shoulders and fixes Vortex with a stare only a cyclops can give.

Oh, sure. That's why he squawked and chickened right on out of there, heh... Vortex stares back at Whirl for a moment before looking at Blast Off. And that arm... His smile slowly starts to fall. "Oh, I see..." Now that he thought about it, a medic or two did say the name 'Whirl' several times. There's a moment of silence, his rotaries completely still... Then he slams his fist onto the table, laughing like a maniac.

"BY PRIMUS! HAHA! This is- Oh man, ya should have mentioned that a lil' sooner, Cyclops." He reaches out, claw tip circling the very tip of a protruding gun. Whirl's chassis just sorta thrusts out, it was at such a touchable range. Vortex breaks into laughter once more, sliding back into his seat and clutching his sides. This was great! He even claps Blast Off on his arm to try and get him to settle down. Which he does, though his rotors still tremble with the humor of it all. "Primus, Blasty. I forgot what a /riot/ you can be."

Oh. It gets even better. (HA.) They already met. Blast Off keeps sitting there as Whirl swings an arm around him, still lost in quiet despair. Until he manages a glance up to Whirl. "I... see." Blink. "Eat a...coin?" He's missing something here. He shifts between looking at the other two mechs, finally settling with no small amount of consternation on Vortex. And then on Vortex's hand fondling Whirl's chest cannon. Then up to Whirl -and back to Tex. He repeats this a few times. Only when Vortex touches his arm does it snap the shuttle out of his daze. He lets out yet another HUFF. "I am NOT a- what are you two- what did you do- who's eating who- I MEAN what-" He suddenly pulls his arms completely to his sides, still stiff as a board, a mix of terror and huff. "WHAT IS GOING ON HERE."

"It's kind of common knowledge around here, I figured you'd figure it out soon eno-" The rest of Whirl's sentence is hijacked by a flustered sputtering as a result of Vortex's touch. He shivers and tightens his hold on Blast Off even as he starts flipping out and yelling. "Okay, relax. I went to the medbay because I wasn't feeling so good and Torque found.." He vents a sigh and mumbles. "..A coin in my intake. It's really not a big deal! I don't know why you're freaking out."

Vortex chuckles. Classic Blast Off. "Blasty, it's 'who's eating whom'. Really, you'd think an aristocrat would get that one right, right Cyclops?" He flashes the faceless wonder his teeth before lifting his mug to down some more engex. Ah, it was almost making him feel something. Making all those itches go away. "Blast Off, calm down. We aren't doin' a thing. It was harmless flirting in the medbay. You'd think we murdered each other with how you're acting!" Which was hilarious. But to a point. Swindle had been right earlier, don't need Blast Off blowing a thruster. The last time was so messy and no one heard the end of it for vorns.

"Freaking out? I'm not freaking out! There's just you.." One hands comes up stiffly to point at the cyclops, then point just as rigidly at Vortex, "Him. You... he was..." He scowls as he glances down to Whirl's chest cannons (ok actually not down, more like eye level, Whirl's a big mech) and points to them. He's never going to get that image of one rotary handling the other like that out of his head now. He can't even verbalize it properly, just points empahatically at Whirl's chest cannons.

That rigid finger then whirls to point at Vortex and for a second the Combaticon shuttle looks like he wishes he could shoot his Combatibro with that thing. A flash of purple flickers through his otherwise pale violet optics as Vortex actually schools HIM in class, and the huff in his vents shifts into a faint growl. And then it stops. Wait, class. Aristocrat. Right. Blast Off draws in a deep vent of air and leans back into his seat, dropping his hand down again and muttering, "Flirting. Right." He starts crossing his arms, then decides against it, limbs suddenly awkward and ungainly. Where's his drink? Right, spilled the glass, the bottle's still here. Pouring himself a drink again, he adds just a bit sullenly, "No flirting." Even if... come to think of it- watching these two go at it would be all /kinds/ of hot. WAIT NO, CLASSY. Right. He slams down the newly filled glass.

Whirl follows Blast Off's gaze to his chest cannons and shrugs. It's not his fault that his weirdo brother can't keep his hands to himself! "Is that what that was?" Whirl asks, apparently shocked by the revelation that yes, Vortex was flirting with him. "I thought that was just like.. your way of saying hello or something." Considering the stories Blast Off has told, it makes sense. To him at least. Once the shuttleformer finishes pouring his drink, Whirl snatches the bottle in his claw and takes a 'swig' via his neckhole.

No flirting? Geez, it's not like he'd be seriously flirting. He'd never do that to a brother. He was a sadist, not an asshole. "It is, but doesn't mean the offers aren't serious, Cyclops. Remind me to give you some pick up lines, Blasty. I got three really great ones. Really get the mood right." He leans in conspiratorially towards Whirl. "And come by my hab-suite later, I'll tell you all his sensitive spots." And he knew all of them. From millions of years of tactile reconnaissance. Vortex cocks a smile. "Nah, not so bad. Would be better without the Autobots. But, hey, you never know in the future, right?"

Blast Off gives Whirl a slightly wary look, not sure if Whirl's serious or toying with him, though the squeeze settles him just a tiny bit. Tiny. But there's the matter of Whirl's being his *boyfriend* and all, and uh... so. His gaze then falls onto Vortex. How's he taking this? There's that bout of cackling laughter and then... the offers. The first aren't so bad, they even have him blinking and almost (aaalmost) looking curious. Then wait, Ok, Vortex offering Whirl advice on his sensitive spots certainly indicates that Vortex is taking this pretty well, actually and- WHAT. The shuttleformer's armor plates crackle with electricity as they bristle again -and the plating of his cheeks turns an even brighter shade of red. "VORTEX."

Whirl is in mid-swig when Vortex talks about coming to his habsuite to learn all about Blast Off's sensitive spots. He can't do a spit-take but his sudden fluster makes him drop the bottle with a loud clatter. "Uh.. wow, so I guess you two were.. er, are pretty close." His gaze travels slowly from Vortex to Blast Off who looks so embarrassed he could die. "Funny you say that Tex." Aw look at that, he's already giving him nicknames. "I thought the same thing but about Decepticons instead. You get used to it with time though, trust me."

Vortex looks at Blast Off with a shrug. What? He drinks his mug dry. Hmm, he was going to need another. "I'm close to all my fellow Combaticons." He says nonchalantly. No big deal. He traces the rim of his mug before licking the engex off his finger. He glances at Whirl. "That's cute. 'Fraid for your safety?" He teases a little. "No shame in it, Cyclops."

Dropping the bottle causes Blast Off to wince inwardly, his optics darting nervously between the two other mechs now. He almost looks sheepish by the time Whirl's one yellow optic bores down on him. He mutters something about long missions in space before turning towards his old teammate. The socially awkward shuttle is still being pretty quiet through this, and he finds temporary solace in another drink from his glass. Then, mustering his own brand of courage, he looks up at Vortex. "No." He states calmly this time. "He's no coward. He's as ...brave as any Combaticon." Some slight pause and he adds, "He shares some things in common with us. It's... what brought us together." That and alien ticks and secret handshakes.

Whirl just laughs at Vortex's question. He doesn't need to give him a real response, Blast Off is more than happy to step in to defend his honour. He leans back in his seat and pulls the shuttleformer closer to his side in an almost possessive manner. "He's right, I'm a total bad-ass. He, and everyone else on this ship, can attest to that." He picks up the bottle he dropped and swishes what liquid remains in it around a bit before polishing it off. "Hnn.. all out," he mumbles, tipping the bottle upside down and shaking it.

Vortex's visor shutters and he looks at Blast Off. Oh... He was serious. Like... Not just a fling serious. Not a 'I just want to know what it's like to get with an Autobot'. "Haha, I got'cha, shuttlebug. No more explanation needed." He glances at his empty mug and then stands, stretching. "Ahhhh, thanks for the drink. Welp, I better go! Got stuff to do! Bots to meet! Maybe meet my boss in Combat..." He shrugs, mask snapping over his face once more. He pokes his claws at his fingerpads.

"But let me buy you two a drink- well, another round- celebrate Blast Off actually finding someone who can stand him. And, if you wanna test that whole bad-ass thing, just let me know, Cyclops." Vortex is already heading to the exit. "Be sure to roll all over 'im, Blasty!" He shouts loudly, so all of Swerve's could hear. "See ya, love ya bro." And then he's out. Heading to his habsuite. He should clean up in there before Windrose gets back anyways.

Blast Off still feels a little awkward having Whirl and Vortex here at the same table, Autobot and Decepticon, old and very very familiar teammate and new and very very familiar roommate. Very. Ahem. So many rotaries all around now. Vortex's seeming acceptance of his relationship with an Autobot brings him some relief, and he doesn't even think to complain at the nicknames. With a sigh, he even starts to relax, settling into Whirl's arm. Then frown just a little. Excuse. He huffs, "I beg your pardon, there are plenty of people who can stand me. I have taste and class and /manners/, after all." Haughty sniff. Seems he's settling back into old -and brotherly- habits again. Then he blinks, optics widening at the roll over comment, bringing a fresh blush to his circuitry, and then at the end of it all, Vortex says *that*. He looks up, huffiness replaced with a quiet sense that maybe all is as it should be, after all. Surrounded by family. ...Who are also rotaries. Oh my.

Whirl gives Vortex a lazy wave of his claw as he leaves. "I might just take you up on that, Tex." Once he's gone, he drops his claw onto the table with a clang of metal. "Geez, he's just like how you described and more. Now all you need is the other two and you've got the whole Combaticon family!" He bends his neck down and bonks his 'face' into the side of Blast Off's head. "You're still my favourite one, shuttlebug." Yes, he is totally stealing that from Vortex and adding that to his list of embarrassing pet names.

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