2016-07-27 Bad Art
From Transformers: Lost and Found
|2016-07-27 Bad Art|
|Location||Lost Light - Recreation|
|Summary||Gearstrip finds some anti-neutral graffiti, and Starstruck tries to help out.|
The recreation deck runs from Swerve's boisterous bar at the far end to the quiet of the Observation Deck at the front of the ship. Rooms to either side are set up for use by individuals or groups so long as they sign-up for a timeslot. These rooms are occasionally used for weapons training, sometimes sparring, sometimes obstacle courses -- and sometimes people just sign off for a block of time for a little peace and quiet in the noisy, crowded ship.
This isn't the first graffiti complaint that Gearstrip has been ultimately responsible for cleaning up, but it is the first graffiti complaint that she has made herself. She looks up ... and up ... and up at the wall, and bites thoughtfully at the inside of her cheek. She sets down her toolkit, flips up her wrist, and comms security: "Hey guys! I don't see a job in my maintenance queue for this but there's definitely a giant hammer pounding a nail somebody etched into the wall in the rec deck near the gallery quadrant, coords to follow. If somebody's nearby and wants to come and do your super duper investigating thing, I can hang around and fix it up and save us all some time."
<FS3> Starstruck rolls Singing: Amazing Success. (7 1 8 8 7 7 8 3)
<FS3> Starstruck rolls Dancing: Good Success. (7 1 5 4 4 5 8 4 8)
After his hang out with Lieutenant - can he really call it that, with how it ended? - Starstruck is almost glad to come on shift. He needs to figure out a way to make it up to the avian, except...except he does what he always does when he's on patrol. Which is dancing, and singing, or, in this case, rapping. "This one is for the boys with the boomin' system, top down, AC, with the coolin' system--" It's his usual routine as he makes his way through the halls, until a call comes over the open security comm. He's the closest, as far as he knows, so he sends a, don wry i got it along with a star and a B) emoji across the channel before he's heading to the site of disturbance. He might still be singing as he goes, and when he gets to the hallway in question he's quietly humming, "Boy you got my heartbeat running away..."
His speakers go silent once he approaches the graffiti and the small mech in front of it. "What's up?" Starstruck asks, glancing from the image to -- Gearstrip. That's it. He gives a low whistle. "That ain't cool. You see who drew it?"
Gearstrip is still kind of figuring out the emojis as she peers at Starstruck's return message with a quizzical but amused expression on her face when he comes humming up the hallway and she looks up -- and up, again -- at the incoming party bus. She reaches up and scratches at the back of her head with light tink-tink of fingertips curving over her helm. "Um. No, I mean, it was here when I got here. I was on my way to fix the environmental control panel in the gallery, apparently the temperature level is getting so high there's some paint peeling going on? Or else just people being very dramatic in their complaint reports."
Starstruck might have a bit of a history with anti-neut sentiments, and therefore he actually falls serious upon further inspection of the graffiti. He's already digging in his subspace for one of the many pink handkerchiefs he keeps (you can keep the one he lent you, Rung, he's got plenty) to make an attempt at wiping the paint off. "Yeah? Sounds annoying." He's not exactly paying attention to Gearstrip's explanation as he rubs the cloth he's produced against the image drawn on the wall. After a klik, when it doesn't seem to do anything, he glances down at the mini. His expression is apologetic. "Could you, uh, help me out here? I can hoist you up." She likely only comes to his knee, after all.
Gearstrip laughs aloud in a bright crack of sound and grins up at him. "Some of it's etching," she says. "Like, beneath the level of the paint, somebody was really scouring their point in like ... maybe talons? Or some kind of scratchy thing. A ... knife? Arrowhead? Maybe something higher tech." She explains her laughter by flipping into her vehicle mode, firing her thrusters, and zooming up to Starstruck's eye level as a floating blue hoverboard. "I was looking it over-- I think I may need to actually spend some time with the fabricator in the machine shop and make some new panels to replace these."
Etching? Starstruck actually frowns, replacing the handkerchief in his 'space. Why use so much energy on something so useless when you could be, dunno, partying or something? Star doesn't get it, and his antennae flick back with annoyance, the hoops pierced into the right one swaying with the movement. "But why?" he asks, as if Gearstrip has the answer, before she - whoa! The frown immediately flips into a grin, fangs on display as his bright optics focus on the hoverboard before him. "Is that your alt mode? Fuck, that's awesome!" He knew from her file what she transformed into. Seeing it in person was something different, though. He pulls himself back to their current predicament, optics flicking to the graffiti. "Seriously? Slag, that's annoying." He wants to help out at least, so he adds, "Any ideas as to who coulda done this?" No pressure, Gearstrip.
Gearstrip floats there for a moment, and then she provides Starstruck with the most narrowing-it-down hypothesis of all: "Well, my guess is it was probably an Autobot or a Decepticon." She sounds a little wry, a little rueful. She starts to float back down to the ground again, and reverts to root mode again a smidgen above her own height and lets her boots hit the ground a little hard. Reaching up to adjust the goggles crowning her helm by fiddling with the strap, she scrunches up her nose. "A lot of Cybertronians have a lot of anger and hurt inside. Super insightful, I know. Also, gravity works, and water is wet..."
Starstruck laughs, though her answer makes perfect sense. Anyone who wasn't a NA---neutral could have done this. And there's plenty from both of the 'main' factions aboard this ship, so who knows? A small voice in the back of his processor hopes it's Cliffjumper, though he knows the mini is already in the brig for fucking someone up. Any opportunity to keep that guy in there is a good one, okay!
Turning his attention back to Gearstrip, Starstruck grins. "And when pigs can fly everything'll work out, right?" An Earth reference that Gearstrip may not get. He made it anyway! "You said it was etched in the wall. Any way I can remove most of it without replacing the entire panel?"
"What's a pig?" Gearstrip frames her hands at her hips and tilts her head to the side, looking up and over the wall and then back at Starstruck with a crooked smile. She scuffs a boot at the floor. "Well, we could try ... melting the panel. The outer coating is flame resistant so we'd need a pretty high heat, but with enough melt but not enough sear to get through to the inner layer we could obscure the damage. It might weaken the coating the next time someone detonates something in here, though. Or, uh, we could paint over it. Like a big shiny ... painting. Of something. I'm sorry, I have no artistic ideas."
Welp, apparently Gearstrip hasn't been to Earth at all. "Pigs are Earth organics, they have this nose and tail..." Starstruck can't actually explain in words. "Come by my habsuite sometime, I'll show you." He's got plenty of films that'll show her what a pig is, and possibly explain the expression he's used. In the meantime, he listens to her solutions, tilting his helm, lips turning down thoughtfully. At the end, he decides that: "I don't know what any of that means." Sorry, Gearstrip. "If you want someone to paint over it, though, maybe ask Mirage?" He's only learned this because of the security files.
Gearstrip chortles and straightens up. "It depends on how urgent it is we get rid of this eyesore. I mean, it shouldn't take that long to fab new panels. I just had ... you know, other stuff to do." She pins the bridge of her nose between thumb and middle finger. "Like stopping classic works of art from spontaneously combusting in an overheated room, I guess. No, that seems pretty unlikely." Her weight balances backward on her heels as she tilts a sidelong look up at him. "A lot of you guys are really into this Earth stuff," she says. "Like Pipes!"
"I'd say it's pretty urgent. Neutral bots passing through here don't want to see this kind of scrap." Starstruck has reproduced a pink handkerchief, and with some lubricant from his glossa he's returned to rubbing vigorously at the graffiti. Even as he does so, he turns his helm toward Gearstrip. "If you got other stuff to do, go do it! I can take care care of this." He's still rubbing at the painted image, and responds, distractedly, "Yeah, I was there for a while. Pipes is cool. We're gonna hang out soon." He's not even really aware of his responses as he scrubs at the graffiti. Woops.
"I mean technically I am a neutral but I know that it doesn't really apply to me, so I'm a weird neutral." Gearstrip peers thoughtfully at the paneling and then bites at her cheek as she watches Starstruck scrub for a moment. "I don't really think you do," Gearstrip says. She pats lightly at Starstruck's near leg, somewhere around the region of his knee -- look, she's not big -- and then goes, "But if it's gonna drive you that nuts, I'll start working on the fabricator as soon as I finish in the gallery and I'll get the wall pieces replaced ... hopefully by the end of tomorrow."
"No such thing." Starstuck keeps scrubbing, and some ?? of the paint comes off. Only some. He doesn't elaborate, too focused on his work. As much as he tries, however, it becomes clear that his efforts will not suffice. Eventually he gives, and sends a tired smile toward Gearstrip. "Heh, yeah, that sounds like the best plan. This wall needs some serious retooling." As if he knows what he's talking about. He still scribbles his comm line onto a datanote to give to the mini. "Call me if this kinda slag happens again. Catch ya later!"
"Have fun!" Gearstrip carols at him with a laugh in her voice. She holds up the note, and then vanishes it into her pocket as she moves off toward the gallery so that she can tackle the next job on her list