2016-05-08 Lines of Communication
From Transformers: Lost and Found
|Lines of Communication|
|Location||Swerve and Whisper's Habsuite|
|Summary||*plays the odd couple theme*|
When Whisper returns to the habsuite, it is at the end of a long shift spent working with navigation on the collective work of starmapping. Their course is already set, for now, but the vast space around them is worth studying, not least of which for hazard or for the possibility of contact with hostile or nonhostile strangers. She is a tall but quiet shade of blue and white, but for the purple splash of the badge centering her chest, when the doors to the habsuite slide open to admit her.
when Swerve heard he was getting a roommate he reacted the way he expected anyone would: Excitement, then crippling anxiety over if they'd like him or not, then excitement again as he haphazardly cleaned up the habsuite to prepare for the new arrival. He had the night off so it was an easy enough feat as he watched his Earth shows (he only got distracted for a couple hours, that's all!). *
When Whisper opened the door he sat up straight and set the datapad he'd been reading aside (a book of stories he'd borrowed from Gearshift). Grin plastered on his faceplates, he greeted her "So you must be my new roommate huh? I mean I'm sure you are given that you just walked in here like you own the place. I'm Swerve!" He held out a servo to shake after standing and making his way to her.
Whisper stands very still as she surveys him, the glow of her visor one difficult to translate into an expression per se. Her impassivity is not meant to be insulting. All it masks, for the moment, is uncertainty, as the tall Decepticon considers the small Autobot. When he holds out his servo to her, her gaze drops from his features to it. She hesitates for a moment, and then, carefully, reaches out to slide her hand out to clasp it according to normal social protocol. For a moment it seems like she's not actually going to say anything at all, but then she unearths a low, smoky voice to say: "Whisper."
Swerve is tickled by this and immediately asks "What do you know of Television and what can I get you started on?" He asks because the mini has found the best way to bond with others is over some mutually enjoyed shows.
Whisper stares at him in complete noncomprehension. Her head tilts to one side, her mouth flat and still. She does not answer the question. Perhaps she doesn't know how.
Swerve takes her silence as a lack of understanding "Alright well if you had to describe your favorite flavor of enegex what words would you use?" he prompted again
Whisper considers words. She steps past Swerve to fold herself down into a seat on the unoccupied slab, drawing her boots together in a loose cross, and sits with her long-fingered lands loosely together between her knees. She stares at Swerve with a steady visor and contemplates the question. Then, finally, she looks to the side to study the far wall, and drops one of her shoulders in the roll of a partial shrug.
Swerve gives a weak nod. Uh oh. He tries again "Do you have hobbies? favorite colors? anything?" He asks. The mini needs opinions slaggit!
Whisper slowly shakes her head. Her thumbs set together in her lap, and she turns over her hands, showing the curves of her open palms to Swerve as she returns her steady bright-lit visor to look at him.
Swerve's own visor flickers a few times as he then starts talking about different television shows the could try. Sure the was the quintessential 'Community' but then there was also Monty Python, Empire, Brooklyn 99. Hell he's even considering offering up 'Dora the Explorer' if it means getting a reaction beyond blank stares and empty shrugs. Primus is clearly testing him.
Swerve continues to talk for what feels like hours but is really barely five minutes about the intricacies of Earth television and the consistencies in themes.
<FS3> Swerve rolls Earth Culture: Great Success. (2 5 4 8 7 7 1 8 5 3 7 4 3)
Whisper gives every impression of listening, but none of understanding. She processes all of Swerve's words, but her expression only shifts insofar as a faint crease wakes in the smoothness of her brow. She says nothing. She watches, listens, and looks -- in so far as anything can be read in her expression -- puzzled.
Swerve is clearly losing steam as he slowly quiets, barely letting the lack of sound permeate before trudging over to his video set and putting on Captain America. At least good ole Steve Rogers wouldn't let him down. He isn't a monster, however, and turns the screen so whisper can join him in watching if she wants.
For a while, Whisper seems content to sit in silence as Swerve watches the movie. She watches him more than she watches the screen, though she splits her attention between both without showing much difficulty. Eventually, at one point, possibly to show willing, she says in her very low voice: "Mammalian humanoids die very quickly with a limited application of pressure. Their internal fluids get everywhere."
Up to that point Swerve had been talking nonstop about the film and different useless trivia. He faltered when she said that and wasn't quite sure how to rebuttal. Besides agreeing of course. "yea I mean. Wait." He takes a very VERY brief pause "You. You're talking from experience?" He questions, face reflecting that he is in fact, assuming the worst. That's when his gaze falls to the purple symbol on her chest and his spark seizes as his suspicions grow.
Whisper tilts her head in the other direction as she turns the focused weight of her gaze back upon Swerve. Her fingers lace together between her knees. She tilts her head towards him, then, in a slight inclination that must be an affirmative.
If Swerve's face were capable of paling that's what it would be doing right now. He blindly reaches for the remote and turns the movie off, then he sifts through his collection to find something else instead. Perhaps Jurassic Park? No. Toy Story? Maybe. He settled on Finding Nemo and started that instead, hoping to Primus that Whisper hadn't squished any fish.
Maybe if he can stomach it later he'll ask if she squished humans on purpose but he's not sure he's going to like the answer either way.
Again, Whisper is silent. Again, she sits impassively on her bunk, and splits her attention between Swerve and the film he seems to be trying to show her. If anything, she seems even more puzzled than before, but does not at first try to venture any words. Possibly because her last spoken word was plainly such a failure. Her frown grows, but she is still and quiet.
Swerve hasn't been able to shush himself since the movie started, again spouting useless trivia but this time it's to distract himself from the fact that he's now rooming with a decepticon who may or may not have squished humans on purpose. He's nervous now, wringing his servos as the film goes on.
<FS3> Whisper rolls Stillness: Failure. (4 2 2 2 1 5 3 1 4 2 5 4 5)
Between Swerve's plain fidgeting as the movie continues and his endless stream of chatter, Whisper finally can stay still no longer. She pushes to her feet, her hands falling to her sides as she moves, and she paces a few steps to look past Swerve toward the porthole and stare out the window. Since he was here first, he clearly has the bunk with the window. She watches space for a long moment instead of watching the film, and there's a subtle easing of the tension across the set of her shoulders and angled wings as she watches the minimal signs of momentum that are determinable out this window.
swerve watches her, continuing to babble more out of compulsion than a desire for conversation. He can tell he's bothering her but he just. Can't stop himself. He wishes he had work tonight and even considers opening the bar.
Whisper turns back after this and turns a long look at the animated figures on the screen. Then she sits down on her bunk again and turns a baffled look at Swerve. Who is still speaking. Finally, she speaks again. She says: "Marine creatures without adaptations for amphibious life die quickly when removed from their habitats."
Swerve replied with a sarcastic "And water is wet, and space is a vacuum. What else is new?" A wry smirk forming on his faceplates. "Are you always so cheerful in your astute observations?" He asks, half seriously.
Whisper falls silent again, and this time the knit of her expression is even deeper. Her fingertips set against each other between her knees. She doesn't answer.
This reaction causes Swerve to sulk a little bit, expression starting to mirror Whisper's. "What, Turbofox got your glossa?" He asked, tilting his helm at her. This was getting to be an exercise in futility. "Look. I guess all you really need to know about me is I run the bar on the ship and was looking forward to having a hab-mate." He said curtly, sliding off the berth.
Whisper watches him rise. Her mouth tips down at the corners, and she looks away in a slow slide of her gaze, head ducking slowly. She studies the window again. She says: "I apologize."
Swerve looked over his shoulder at her as he head to the door. "I appreciate and accept your apology, not that I really get why you're apologizing in the first place." He gives her a short wave as he heads out the door to open his magnum opus and precious treasure.
Whisper says nothing else as he leaves. That's probably not surprising.