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2016-06-20 Lounge Party

From Transformers: Lost and Found

Lounge Party
Date 2016/06/20
Location Common Lounge
Participants Beachcomber, Lieutenant, Slugfest, Wheeljack
Summary Using the lounge for it's intended purpose. Everything is chill.

This spacious, rectangular room serves as the hub for four habsuite hallways that branch off from it on either side. Tinted blue with warm lighting, it's quiet and cozy during most shifts and invariably bustling with activity in the off hours. When the large videopane isn't buzzing with movies, it's being used for what must be aggressive gaming, evinced by the various controller-shaped dents in the wall nearby. A veritable tangle of game consoles flank the shelving unit, some Terran, some Cybertronian, some truly alien - all modded for mechs.

L-shaped couches circle a simple table in a pieces layout. Off to the side are a few more tables and chairs beside an energon dispenser and an over-priced vending machine.


Wheeljack enjoys his work, but some parts of it are harder to do than others. Reading up on Nautica's newly developed quantum physics is one of the hard parts, and Wheeljack has spent much of his day doing that. Eventually, he decided that it was past time for a break, to let his brain module and his optics reset, and so he's made his way from the lab down to the Common Lounge. His first stop is the energon dispenser, where he fills a cube up. After taking a long drink, he takes the rest of his meal, searches out the closest empty couch, and sprawls across it with a groan. The rest of his cube is set down on the ground beside the couch.

A tiny robo stego is napping on one of the couches in the room. His legs are tucked under him and his tail is curled alongside him, nose under tail.

As he's just come back from another dreadful shift from logistics, it's a bit strange for him to stop in the lounge instead of the library. He'll stop in soon enough, of course; but right now he is raiding his own hab for sweets before going back out into the lounge for energon. The flier takes note of the group of bots just relaxing in the appropriately titled room. He gives a sort of approved nod at them. Relaxing, yes, good for the lot of you.

It's not that Beachcomber doesn't LIKE chairs, but they don't offer much sprawling space. And being on the smallish side, one doesn't want to tempt fate by laying on the floor where big-footed and big-chested people walk. A table tucked up against the corner of the wall and strewn with soft things to lounge on would do just fine, which was where he'd taken up residence for the time being, one leg bent and the opposite foot propped up against his knee, hands gliding over the strings of his guitar in a lazy series of chords. His visor was dark, resting back with seemingly not a care in the galaxy. His fingers still lift in a wave when the door opens, before plopping back down onto the strings.

It takes a little while for Wheeljack to lift his helm up from his chosen couch, but Lieutenant's entrance seems to be enough motivation for him to finally unflatten himself. Apparently, there's only so much sitting still and doing nothing he can take before he needs a distraction. "Hey, Beachcomber," he says, in belated response to his wave of welcome. "What've you been up to?" It doesn't take much shifting to put himself in a position where he can take up most of the couch and still look in Beachcomber's direction. "And... It's Lieutenant, right?" He remembers this guy from the time he stopped by Wheeljack's lab, which is enough of a reason to give him a friendly greeting in Wheeljack's book. If or when the Stego wakes up, he'll get a greeting too.

Slugfest awakens soon after Beachcomber starts playing in his guitar. He raises his head and peers at the small bot, staring intently in Beachcomber's direction. Then he starts imitating the music Beachcomber's playing, by revving his chainsaw plates in time to the notes.

Lieutenant had no intentions to disturb the tranquility in the room. He does linger around the dispenser. Taking steady sips on his energon, with a slight nod at Wheeljack in response to his greeting. Other than that, he remains quiet, casually watching over all of them. Beachcomber's strumming is lovely to listen to, the running of the chainsaw is less so. He doesn't like that tool. It does not resonate well with him.

Half the blue visor onlines at the call of his name, a lazy grin spreading beneath it at the sight of Wheeljack. He lifts his arm to wave at him, letting the chord hold for a moment before his hand drops back down with a little plunk against the hollow metal base of his guitar. "Yoooo, 'Jackiiiie~" Beachcomber clearly wasn't sleeping, but his voice was low and dragging like he'd just woken up. Or like he'd indulged himself in his 'hobbies' before setting up shop in the corner like this. "Just channelin' the universal energies, mech~ Seein' where the currents wanna take us, y'know? Just feelin' the starlight passing over us~ Thinkin' 'bout copper. How 'bout you, mech?" He giggled a little to himself. "Had any good parties lately?"

"Feeling the stars might be a little easier somewhere like the viewing deck," Wheeljack observes. His fins are lit up, echoing his bemusement at the response. "Good parties? Sure, I guess... stopped by that one for Ultra Magnus a little while back. Why, you throwing one in here?" He glances between Beachcomber and Slugfest, and the dichotomy of musical variety they're making. "Were you there? I didn't stay too long, so I might've missed seeing people."

Slugfest perks up. "Parties?" he wonders, getting up and his tail swishing rapidly behind him. He hops off the couch and wanders through the room, looking for evidence of a party in the lounge.

Lieutenant had heard of the party for Ultra Magnus but that was far too much social activity for him. Even just going to Swerve's takes a monumental effort to prepare himself before going in for a drink. That Cosmos is worth it though. Still, he is interested to hear how it went, someone said something about Minimus taking a good portion of the armory for his surprise party. A bit overkill if you ask the flier but caution doesn’t hurt.

"Nah, mech, I don't think I was but maybe I was there in spirit," Beachcomber chortled, fingers tapping out a rhythm against the hollow body of his instrument. "Iiii don't think Magnus likes my sort of hobbies very much, y'know? Don't wanna get that side eye the whole time he's supposed to be having a good time."

Oop. Stego on the floor. Beachcomber set his guitar to the side to lay on his front against the edge of the table, watching the stego wander. If he gets close enough, Slugfest might get a playful goosing of his tail between the armor plates.

"That's true," Wheeljack observes. He finally sits up, mostly so that he can take another bit of his energon without spilling it all down his front, via a slot in his facemask. "Couldn't say how the end of it went, anyway. I went back to work not too long after it started. Security sensors don't build themselves." He shrugs. "So why're you asking about parties? Unless I missed something." He spares a glance toward Lieutenant, just in case he might have any better idea of what Beachcomber's talking about.

Slugfest feels a pinch at his tail tip and is startled, squealing and running about the room rapidly!

Lieutenant only responds to Wheeljack's glance with his forever deadpan expression. Really should invest in a mask and visor himself if he hardly ever makes much of a face. In honesty though, he could only make assumptions on what Beachcomber meant. Of course it could be a general, causal question such as a 'How are you?' or something. He cannot answer for certain though.

He really shouldn't giggle, he hadn't meant to spook the cassette. But... it IS kinda funny. No don't laugh, it'd be mean. Smothering a snicker with his hand, he props himself up on his elbows in an attempt to look innocent and turn his attention to Wheeljack and LT. "Ah, no reason mech, just something about party hats. Well, I mean- we could make it a party but uh- maybe not in here. Little too public~ don't wanna get the Disapproving Look." Beachcomber gestures with his hands to add emphasis to the words.

Wheeljack spends a few moments staring at Beachcomber. Is he...? It can really be hard to tell with Beachcomber, sometimes. "...Probably for the best," he says eventually. "I'm going to have to go back to reading quantum equations at some point." And those can be hard enough to wrap his head around on a good day. "Wouldn't want to disturb anyone in the hab suites, either."

Slugfest doesn't see who pinched him, or what pinched him, so he scampers around, nose to the ground, peeking under the couches to see if there's something under them!

Disapproving look? Beachcomber, what kind of party is that? What illegal things are you thinking? Lieutenant returns to finishing off his drink, before nodding in agreement with Wheeljack's last statement. Besides, there is nothing to celebrate so a party, in his mind, is pointless. Sorry Beach.

"Quantum equations can be fun," Beachcomber rumbled, sliding off the table and onto his feet to scoop up the stego-cassette. "Personally I find them a little more fun when you're, y'know, more in tune with the universe~? Just get nice and loose beforehand, mech~" An engineer, Beachcomber was not, so his ramblings about quantum physics didn't really hold much water. Don't mind him, though, he's just going to plop across Lieutenant's lap with Slugfest resting on his belly, grinning up at the avian while rubbing the dino's head. "Heeeey, mech~ How you doin'~?"

"They're fun when you can think in ten dimensions," Wheeljack says with a wry laugh. And then Beachcomber is... draping himself across Lieutenant. Wheeljack glances at Lieutenant, pushing himself upright with surprise. "Oh, did you want to sit, 'Comber? I can move." Not that there aren't free couches, especially since Slugfest got up and started running around the room, but Lieutenant has been keeping the energon dispenser company the entire time, which doesn't seem like the biggest 'please touch me' sign.

Slugfest is scooped up, which he's used to by now because other mechs and femmes have done so. He doesn't protest when Beachcomber lays out, with a stego on tummy, petting a stego's head.

Lieutenant tenses when the minibot invites himself into his lap. Not to mention he drags the stego in with him. The flier only narrows his optics at the two, not at all pleased with this current arrangement. He gathers both Beachcomber and Slugfest in his arms, then stands to his feet, only to turn around and place them back on the couch. Now he resorts to standing, again.

"Fine." Lieutenant answers in a blunt, dead tone. Now that he has his personal space back he is for the moment, 'fine.'

Whoop. Going for a ride, it seems. Aaand he's on the couch, with the stego. Well that was exciting! Beachcomber giggled a little to himself, not bothering to sit up and gently ruffling Slugfest's neck. "Aww Lieutenaaaaant~ Bring it in, mech, bring it in." His arms reached imploringly for the avian. "You look like a mech in need of a hug and I got hugs to spare~~"

Now Wheeljack is looking back and forth between Lieutenant and Beachcomber. They're just about polar opposites right now, with how stiff the unexpected contact was. "You sure?" he asks Lieutenant. His fins are lit up with his concern, at this point. "Beachcomber, maybe hold off?" he suggests. He reaches over to pat Beachcomber's arm, coincidentally putting himself in range of Beachcomber's clingy octupus hugs.

The tiny robo stego looks around as he's transported along with Beachcomber to the couch, still sitting atop the small mech's chest. When Beachcomber sits up he finds himself sliding to the lap, where he is in easy reach of HUGS.

"I shall pass, thank you." The Autobot (despite the lack of badge, yes he too is an Autobot) replies flatly, taking a step closer to the exit. "I must clock in now, farewell." A brief salute is given to the trio before he turns a heel to head to the library. Quiet, serene, and no physical contact. Best area on the Lost Light, in his opinion.

And if Jack's in range, he'll be getting latched on to. Beachcomber's engine purred happily for the contact, though it faltered slightly when Lieutenant announced his exit. "Hmmmm. Don't leeeeave, mech." But it appeared his request was unheeded when the avian continued his way out of the lounge. A sigh escaped the minibot and he nestled closer to his friend instead, clinging to his arm. "Hmmm. That wasn't how I pictured that going at all. Sorry about that, Jack."

Wheeljack's willing to give up his arm to contain a clingy Beachcomber at this point, though he shifts slightly to be sure that he's not leaving Slugfest in an awkward position. It still doesn't stop Lieutenant from leaving, though Wheeljack manages a wave with his free hand. "Have a good shift!" he calls after Lieutenant, before turning his attention back down to Beachcomber. "Next time maybe ask first?" he suggests. "I don't mind the hugs, but I don't think he's too enthusiastic about them."

Slugfest seems perfectly happy in Beachcomber's lap, his tail swishing a little. "Some mechs don't like hugs," he says matter-of-factly.

"Hmmm, usually I do," Beachcomber sighed, scooting and snuggling his way gradually into Wheeljack's lap, tugging Slugfest along like a pointy teddy bear. "I'm just- y'know- really affectionate right now. It's good stuff but I get reeeeeal cuddly after. Wasn't thinkin'."

Luckily for Beachcomber, Wheeljack is willing to accommodate, letting Beachcomber tuck up against his side and use him as a pillow. "You get cuddly? I hadn't noticed," he chuckles. "If you see him again, you can apologize, and no harm done in the long run, right?"

"Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaah," he chortled, snuggling in against the engineer's side with a purr. "I just wanna love on eeeeeeverybody right now." Well at least Wheeljack and Slugfest didn't mind his affection, and when he was feeling a little less... touchy, he'd find Lieutenant and apologize. Still, he'd hoped there was a cuddly side to the avian just waiting for an outlet and that had not quite been there case it seemed, so best to do was to make amends. Beachcomber pillowed his helm against Wheeljack and held Slugfest gently, comfortably sandwiched between the two. "Mmm.. thanks Jack."

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