2016-05-18 Enough to Gossip About
From Transformers: Lost and Found
|Enough to Gossip About|
|Location||Lost Light - Science and Medical - Medibay|
|Participants||Rodimus, First Aid|
|Summary||First Aid has a question for Roddy.|
Every morning, Ultra Magnus goes through the area reports with Rodimus. Every day, Rodimus takes his own report, anyway: that is, when he's supposed to be in his office, on duty, he goes out wandering and checks in with people. He hits the area heads. He hits the bars. He stops by this place or that, wherever whim -- or what looks like a suspiciously close and attentive eye to the ship's needs -- draws him. It's probably the first, though. Definitely whim.
Rodimus just happens to have dropped by to see how Ratchet is doing, a visit which never lasts that long, and he leaves now with half-hearted grumbles in the air at his back. He passes nosily through the Medibay. Hows things. Etc.
"He's pretty sour right now, sorry about that," chimes First Aid, trailing after Rodimus. He wasn't really one to pry in general, but he's stricken with a bug thanks to Getty, and he's not letting the captain out of the medibay without an attempt at a particular question, at least. "A /patient/ corrected him on something. Wasn't really fair, though." Starting, conversationally, "You must be pleased about that syk dealer roundup! I sure am."
Leaning against the foot of one of the beds, Rodimus turns to give First Aid an easy grin. "I am. I wasn't happy hearing about it, considering the history some of the crew have with the stuff." A shadow passes over his gaze -- a Drift-shaped shadow, so it has kitten-ears -- but lifts with the brightening of his eyes. "But I knew Tailgate could take care of it. Just gotta keep Soundwave away from them, right?"
"Urgh, yeah. That didn't end smoothly, did it. I know that neutral was murderous but... jeez. Getting your head messed with like that." First Aid eventually shrugs. "But I heard Soundwave was doing better? Like, going to all the sessions you guys set up for him? Didn't he have one with Drift?" Welp, while Rodimus is here, may as well give him a check-up lite. First Aid casually waves his tricked-out scanner.
Is he being tricked. Is this a trick. Rodimus narrows his eyes at First Aid. "I'm fine!" It's a guilty reflex, one common to idiots who pull dumb stunts and get themselves in trouble and limp around for weeks as their systems slowly deal with the damage. He pauses after, checking with himself: is he? Then he nods. Yes. He's fine. The conversation distracts him, and his smile gentles -- and warms. "Probably. Haven't had a chance to talk to Drift about how it went, though. I hope it was ridiculous." His smile hardens. "And Soundwave had better be doing better."
First Aid laughs, lifting his hands (and scanner) defensively. Nothing glaringly obvious pops up on the readout anyway. "So uh." Lowering his voice, First Aid leans in a little. "I... don't know how inappropriate this is. I guess I'm just curious. You don't have to answer." With his scanner set aside, his fingers lace together before him, flexing anxiously. "Not that I noticed anything. Just that... I heard some rumors. Are you and Drift...?
Rodimus, surprise surprise, looks intensely curious when First Aid says it might be inappropriate. His grin widens. That is not the response some other members of command might have to such an opening. He leans forward, curiosity in the tilt of his helm as it draws more and more and -- then First Aid says Drift. Rodimus looks surprised. He straightens back, laughing. His grin is without edges, and his manner open. "That really depends on how you finish that sentence. You shouldn't believe everything you hear, but maybe some of it."
For all Rodimus' genuine mirth and cheery openness, First Aid still manages to look mildly flustered. Was this situation obvious? Was he just painfully oblivious to these types of things? "W-well that's why I wanted to confirm it with you. You're nothing if not honest. But still. This isn't really... a question for a captain. Heh." Hmm. "Are you and Drift... close?" Of course they were close. "Er, are you and Drift... a thing? Together?"
Rodimus's smile flashes briefly wider before he more or less gets control of himself. "Yeah. We're close. And there's a thing there. Nothing for you to update in your charts--" That is, there's no actual endura thing, but then Drift (and Magnus) are already listed as his contacts, and with the right to make decisions regarding his care. "--but probably enough to gossip about," he teases.
First Aid takes a moment to sift through words. That was a yes. Pretty sure. His visor brightens, his fingers make a proper clasped shape, though they linger near his hips. This news was warming, somehow. Charming. One doesn't imagine commanding officers in such states, often. It was still kind of hard to imagine Rodimus as thus. Romantic. "Alright. It's funny. For a long time I pictured someone like you ending up with Ultra Magnus. Heh! Kind of like how opposites attract? Ahh, sorry. That's inappropriate too probably. Well. Good for you!"
"Ha! Ha ha ha!" Rodimus looks bizarrely panicked. "Yeah, wow, ha ha, that's a -- something. Uh." He slaps his hands over his face, then splits his fingers to peek from behind them at First Aid. He grins again, this time without the hard brilliance of his public smiles, filled with a more private warmth. "Thanks. He's a good guy, you know? I mean a lot of people really struggle to look past all of the Autobots he's killed, all of that Deadlock mass murder thing--" Yeah, Rodimus, he gets it. "--but he's actually a really good guy."
First Aid mistakes Rodimus' panic for awkward, polite laughter. And feels lame for it. "Ultra Magnus gave me a solid summary of Drift. Turned me around a bit. I think Getaway was giving me the wrong idea..." This little revelation has the nurse pausing to internally frown at himself. "He said there wasn't anyone aboard more aware of Deadlock than Drift himself." Oh, right, there was something else... Bad timing, too. "I should probably mention it. I think Getaway is broken up about it. But Drift and Getaway got into a bit of a scuffle before the explosion, it seems. And he won't make a formal report about that for some reason."
"He did?" Rodimus's gaze lights with hopeful enthusiasm. "Good. He's right about Deadlock, but Drift's shown time and again that he has the spark of an Aaaa--." He pauses. Looks around. Sighs. "He has a good spark."
He glances away at the last. "I know." Rodimus briefly seems to confirm Getaway's worst, then he goes on, "So we're going to report it for him or -- I don't know how it works, legally. Magnus will. But we've got to deal with it or risk setting a pretty awful precedent. Make neutrals mad. Make Cons mad. Make everyone mad."
First Aid looks thoroughly relieved. "Okay. Cool. Getaway's kinda' weird about that stuff. I've never seen anyone so cynical. But I think he's getting better. Oh, while you're here-" Rodimus is tugged along, briefly, to get a little tour of what supplies are needed and what equipment needs replacing, or where there's a demand for lab assistants and the like. Likely stuff Ratchet has already gone over with the captain. But it's clear First Aid cares about the upkeep of this medibay, even if he's on the lowest rung here. "Anyways I won't keep you longer. But yeah, good spark, nice catch!" Thumbs up.
Tugged along behind First Aid with a willing humor, Rodimus makes thoughtful noises but then at the end he says, "So what was the first thing again? You've got a list, right?" He gestures, framing the shape of a datapad in his hands. List. He lingers even when First Aid gives him an opening, his expression troubled. "Getaway's got a lot of problems. Struggling with the whole post-war thing, a lot like some of the others. You guys friends, then?"
"Oh, yes. I have a list. I have a lot of lists. I'll forward them to you. And Magnus." First Aid shifts his weight uneasily. "He'll get better," he nods slowly. "He just needs... I guess he needs to witness things /working/ for a while. I'd say we're friends, yeah. Mostly we just talk sadly at each other." This is said with a clear smile in his voice and visor.
"Definitely include Magnus," Rodimus says with a laugh. "Although Drift's the one who will pay for it all, Magnus will keep it all organized." And what's he do? Stands there and looks good, obviously. "I'm glad. Getaway could use a good friend, and I bet you're a great one." Rodimus's smile brightens to a beam. "I'm not sure this is the best place to look for things working, but we do better than not, I think, yeah?" He looks for reassurance from First Aid on that. He thinks it's subtle. It isn't.
First Aid isn't as expressive as a mech with a beaming smile, but the rest of his kibble works to compensate and mimic, doors and armor bristling cheerily. Even his lightbars flicker, just once. Praise is just as effective on him. The latter statement earns a snort. "What? Really? Maybe I've lost some perspective being on this ship for so long. But if I wanted to show someone progress, I'd look no further than the Lost Light. I used to see a pair of Autobot tanks push around this seeker, on the way in every day. Last night I saw the three of them paling around in the common lounge. We had a pair of brawlers, a 'con speedster and a neutral jet, always in here for tearing into each other. Turns out they had something in common, both film buffs. Now they're rooming together, willingly. I guess you don't get to see it too often. Perhaps all you hear of is the strife."
Rodimus's life might be easier if he were less expressive. He can't hide shit. (Except Overlord. So -- never mind. Clearly he can hide it.) But--! He's dangerously expressive now, soaking in the reassurance with an openness that is really not very awesomely cool or super captainly. He looks -- yes, he's a little touched. His, "Awesome," is husked over with it, but the enthusiasm behind it can't be denied, and he breaks into another laugh. "Yeah. I guess I don't. You mostly see injured people. I mostly see angry people. Kind of how our jobs work sometimes. Nice to hear. Thank you." He winds down a quieter warmth, and firmly repeats, "I mean it: thanks. I needed to hear that."
"Hah, yeah. All the wrecks come in here. Only to get wrecked again. But thankfully it's more from experiments in the engineering wing, or faulty equipment. Or just accidents. Folk are gonna' slip up sometimes." First Aid perks at the rare change in tone. Aw. "Sure thing Captain. May you see less angry people! I don't know how anyone stays angry at you, though." A sharp snap from Ambulon in the annexed wards has First Aid fumbling with his stylus, which he'd scooped up to occupy anxious hands. "I gotta' get back to work." Roddy gets a crisp salute.