2016-05-09 After Hours
From Transformers: Lost and Found
|2016-05-09 After Hours|
|Location||Lost Light: Engineering -- Machine Shop|
|Summary||What is some extracurricular shrink time between pals, right?|
The rich scent of spilled oil and brushed dust filter through the air of this industrious complex, a workshop dedicated to the material construction required to keep a ship operational. This is the Machine Shop, an open space with the only walls being the four that define it. This is were tools can be fashioned, parts milled and crude elements refined in a more basic, freer space than a more delicate laboratory. Like peeking behind the curtain of a theatrical play, this is the shop space where walls can be built or smaller vehicles clobbered together.
Along the far wall is a rolling assembly line style work bench, above which are various shelves of tubing, blocks and girders. Off the entrance, both side walls are decorated with all manner of machinery and crafting tools. Stacks of raw materials are kept out of the central floor space and there are bins on either side of the entrance for recyclable spare parts. The room is well lit and there is a constant background hum of the ventilation system, which doesn't do much for that oil and soot smell.
End of the day and thus time to lock up and go home, right? Wrong! Unfortunately for Rung waiting for him outside of his office is maybe the bot that the good doctor has come to see the most, or at the very least, the one that wishes to be seen the most. Upon first arriving to the Lost Light, Getaway was trouble and he was advised to seek help. Originally he badmouthed Rung and his 'mental trickery' but then he went, and went and went and... now the guy hardly leaves Rung alone it must seem.
"Rung!" Getaway is sure to wave in case he is missed, which might be hard, since he is the only bot in this hallway aside from Rung. He was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, just waiting. Now, he is approaching the doc with his arms open wide. "Hey, long day? I bet it was. We're a messed up lot with a lot of messed up thoughts. How you navigate it all... anyway!" He claps his hands together, instead of embracing Rung. "You've been helping me and I thought maybe I could, you know, try to help you to unwind too. Relax some. I thought I could share with you what helps me. That's like... maybe close to session talk though, so I don't know but well, if you were to crack then that would be bad times for me. Many others too. So, this is all in the interest in assuring you stay sane to keep the rest of us that way too."
If there had been one way Rung had expected his day to go, this had certainly not been it. As soon as he steps from his office, the therapist is waylaid by the lingering Getaway. He is nearly thrown for a loop when the mech approaches with what seems to be the intent to hug, only to stop and put his hands together. Rung quickly attempts to keep up with the near frenzy of words that come from his patient's lips. Once he deciphers it, though, he is quick to let a small smile light up his face. It could easily become a conflict of interest but the fact Getaway is displaying enough trust in him to open up is a good sign, Rung will merely have to tread lightly. "I think that sounds like a wonderful idea Getaway. I love to see what has you so excited."
Well! That gets Getaway to do an excited little fist pump! Primus be!
"Great! I mean, good. Or no, like you keep saying, go with what feels right to say, right? So great! Great. Come on then!" He waves to follow him as he heads for the elevator. Now, Getaway is normally a very chatty guy and right now he is proving how very much that is the case. "Not that you can tell me about your day and all but I want you to know I care so I'm going to ask anyway. How was your day? Good, I hope." There's lots of small talk to try and make between here and the elevator.
Once there though it will be a short trip since Getaway only wants to go one floor up. "You know, until this very moment it never occured to me what sorts of things you might like to do in your off hours. Not drinking, I assumed, otherwise I would have invited you back to Swerve's. All of those models you have, you like focusing on the small details? Is that what's relaxing for you?"
Rung is already somewhat overwhelmed by the amount and force of the questions being presented to him. He just came from a long day of helping patients and just doing plain paperwork but keeps the smile on his face despite his plain exhaustion. In reality, Rung wants nothing more than to go back to his Habsuite to lie down with a book or his ships but puts aside his own urges for Getaway. His current company needs his presence more than a few inanimate objects. Following several steps behind the other's long strides, Rung attempts to keep up.
"Oh my day has been quite good all things considered." It warms Rung's spark to hear him say he cares (though on a professional level the sentiment also is somewhat concerning), "I am also afraid you are correct, I can't say more than that. Patient confidentiality. Normally I would head back to my room and merely work on my models or read some books I have lying around. Its nice to be able to lose yourself and shut off your mind in a somewhat mundane but distracting task."
"Which I totally get and, in truth, it's kind of a part of where I am taking you. Which, by the way - *thank you*. I know this isn't really... kosher. Sanctioned? Whatever it is, I know this is a huge favor you are doing for me, and I want you to know I appreciate it." All of those words spill out of Getaway's no-mouth as the door to the elevator opens. He proceeds to head straight for the machine shop, hoping that Rung will continue to follow him. He talks back to his shrink-pal like he trusts Rung is there at least. "Not that I am able to do that, shut my mind off that is. But then you know that from all our meetings, huh? Lots on my mind, despite all of the faulty wiring that doesn't allow me to think about much of anything of consequence," he gruffs, as is a common complaint of his. "I think it might be one of the reasons I am so drawn to Gearstrip." The little blue Camien that he talks about ALL THE TIME. "I found myself waiting for her many times, so the machine shop," he gestures as he strides on in, "Has come to be somewhere that I hang out, when I can. And I watch. Just watch all of these skilled bots hurry about doing the most mundane tasks and I can't help..." He holds up a hand, ina fist. HOLD.
Getaway squats, focuses and then points. Between two barrels, past a pallet of parts and under a swinging crane stands Hoist. "He's fascinating. I wish I could be like him, you know?"
Rung gives Getaway another small but brilliant smile of gratitude, "I will admit, it is not quite ... 'kosher', but such an ideal is a bit more in shades of grey. In an environment such as this it is hard to avoid patients and I can be expected to keep a certain extent of personal involvement as long as it does not go into extremes." His tone can only be described as positive cheer despite his internal wariness, he cant let himself become too involved. He has learned from past mistakes. "Now don't go around saying you have faulty wiring, everyone has problems but it doesn't make them any more or less important." The therapist nearly barrels into Getaway following the sudden stop, barely managing to screech to a halt. His confusion grows as Getaway crouches before focusing on the mech pointed out. "I see, and why do you wish to be like Hoist specifically?" After all, Gearstrip is the one he speaks of most.
"Sure, we all got parts that need repairing, which is why we have the docs. Some damage though, it goes past the gears. There's wear and tear that eats at those bits of us that ain't machine," Getaway says so casually as he squats there, watching Hoist from afar with utter fascination. "Bet he's thinking of absolutely nothing other than what he's working on. How happy he must be," Getty muses aloud. He doesn't look over or up to Rung as he stays there, hands on knees, just watching. "I bet if I was like that I'd make Stripper happier too. Or scrap it, happy at all." He vents a hefty sigh.
Finally he stands again, putting his hands on his hips as he looks to Rung. "I'm a simple guy. I know it. Scrap, *everyone* knows it. I wasn't made to be much, Rung. Not much I *can* be because of it either. Us M.T.O.s don't really go super high on any kind of ladder. So if I can't become much, why not ..." He gestures back to where Hoist is. "Be happy with what I got? What I am?"
Getaway shakes his head. "This is good though. Again, *thank you*. It ain't quite the same what me and Skids would do - the *old* Skids, the real one. Botwatching, s'what we called it. He was always good, even in those days, though not as *pristine* as he is now. It was like this game we'd do, right? Watching random bots do random things and judge 'em, I guess you'd call it that, from afar. Sometimes mean things, which was again mostly me - but not always - or sometimes good. Not that I am asking you to do any of that. It's just... well, nice to get out with someone who does. Even if you can't share it, you know?" Getty looks about. "Got'cha though, nothing extreme. Nothing unprofessional. I know this is pushing the boundaries already, but... not like I got many friends."
Something in Rung seems to gradually soften as Getaway continues to speak. In an effort to try some form of friendly give, Rung kneels down before rocking back on the balls of his pedes, reflecting getaway's position but both far more regal and awkward of a pose. "But if you were more like Hoist wouldn't you also in essence be giving up what makes you you?"
Rung stays kneeling as the other stands once again, listening to his comments before his expression gains a sad tone. As bad as it might be to be an M.T.O., Rung doesn't believe it can get any worse than what was suffered under the functionists. Rung can still remember those days like the back of his servos, watching the discrimination of others purely by the purpose your alt mode serves. Back then there was absolutely no chance for anyone to advance in life. He truly believes that Getaway simply does not see his own potential.
He is silent for a long time, lost in his own thoughts. The silence is almost long enough to make one second guess themselves or their topic of conversation before Rung's voice, somewhat subdued, breaks it, "That game doesn't seem overly fun on a ship with a limited crew. Perhaps we could try it on next planet visit for shore leave." A turn of the head shows the gentle smile Rung's face holds, still with the sad air from his thoughts of times far in the past.
"Is me being me worth holding onto though? For as long as I have been me, no one hs really liked me. I mean, I always tried my best and to help out everyone I could. I bounced from unit to unit until Prowl claimed me, and I bet most of the Autobots I served with don't even remember me. Now, here, I find myself unable to let go of the past and am honest about it but, well, what good does it do me? No one likes me, save G-Strip. And you, but you have to like me, it's only professional." Getaway shrugs, not really hurt by the notion of that. It's only fair and the way things are. "So much of me is already like someone else anyway, so why not be more like someone admirable? Someone..." He glances over to where Hoist is. "Forgettable.'
Getaway sees, as Rung stays knelt, that the doctor is thinking about something. He clearly tries to guess what. "Being a M.T.O. is what it is. If it hadn't happened I wouldn't be here. But if I wasn't here, and a product of all that got me here, I wouldn't be as messed up as I am. Seems like a nasty cyclical situation there's no real escape from. Good thing I'm good at getting out of things no one els e can. So maybe there is hope for me after all, right?"
See, happy thoughts. Getaway does nod though. "Yeah, the game worked a lot better on Cybertron, especially when we knew we were looking at bots that might not be there tomorrow. You know, with dying in the war and all." He does stop though as he peers at Rung, his eyes narrowing. Is Rung for real. "You'd.... you'd do that? For... me?"
"Getaway do you want to know a fact that is somewhat amusing? I have been therapist to nearly every famous mech and figure there is to be seen and thousands of soldiers. Do you know how many have remembered me outside of being forced onto a crew alongside? I have only ever counted 3. Even most days others cannot be bothered to remember my name correctly. Yet I have never let such a negative sentiment get me down. It is sometimes better to have a few, even just one, excellent friend who knows and likes you for who you are than many who like you for what you aren't."
Rung finally stands, wiping off any dust from his legs as he does so, "I also do not believe you are in any form of rut or situation you cannot escape from with a little effort. Back in the days of the functionists you're alt mode defined who you were to everyone around you. It was an inescapable pit if you were cursed into the form of an 'non functional' alt. I was lucky I was able to become a therapist at all, I will tell you it took a lot of effort and metaphorically spilled energon." A quick and precise sidestep has him facing Getaway, "As for the game, I personally see nothing wrong with such a notion. After all, we judge others anyways so why not make a game of it," A chuckle escapes from him, "As long as its not taken out of hand, of course."
"I feel like I was sometimes crafted to have a 'non functioning' root mode. So maybe together we can combine to be one fully operational Cybertronian," Getaway chuckles, because he has to make light of it or else he's left with only the rather serious considerations of what Rung has just said to him. "I find that *really* hard to believe that anyone that has met you could forget you. You're a life-saver with the patience of a saint. People can remember Ratchet and he's a withered up grouch. Bet you that you helped more bots than he has." Getaway shakes his head at the unbelievably of it. "Maybe I should ask Hoist to join us and we could forge our own club, The Forgettables. Hah."
With Rung closer, Getaway does that thing he does whenever someone gets close to him. He flinches. But he settles and seems comfortable with the doc being nearer. "Why, Rung, I had no idea you were so cheeky." He winks. "Well, maybe some inclinations, but... well, you're on!"
Rung's sad smile remains, showing that he is not in fact kidding about being forgotten, "Yes but 'withered up grouch' evidently makes more of an impression than 'patient life-saver', I wouldn't quite put myself that high on the listing though. I just help others the best I can."
At the flinch Rung very subtly edges back, just enough to make Getaway more comfortable, "But I think it would be best to leave Hoist to his work. If we do convene for a game I would suggest you invite some others, perhaps Gearstrip could join us."
"Yeah, since Skids would never join in again," Getaway grumbles. For as willing as he is to talk about Gearstrip, he is quite secretive when it comes to matters concerning his former ... partner? There's so much there that Getty is bitter about bit never willing to go into. 'Fair enough on Hoist, and yeah, I can ask Strip. You'd like her, Rung. She's levelheaded like you and upbeat about life. Focused on others too. If you'd ever want to get social, you know, like hang out with others - multiple others - you could join us at Swerve's."
Rung internally frowns at the first part of Getaway's words but decides for not to focus on the rest. He lets out another soft laugh, "We will have to see. I am not much of a drinker, personally, and am usually quite content on my own... but maybe I will take you up on your offer one of these days." A quick glance at the time has Rung biting his lip in regret, he has been out far too long and at this rate will not be able to finish his book... but that's alright, Getaway seems much happier than normal, "I am afraid I must be going, though, Getaway. Other matters need my attention. I am sure I will see you soon." He offers one more smile, and a small inclination of his head, before making his way back to the elevator and disappearing as the doors close.