2016-09-23 Stairway Surfing

From Transformers: Lost and Found

2016-09-23 Stairway Surfing
Date 2016/09/23
Location Lost Light: Recreation - Visages
Participants Mirage, Blackstorm, Lockjaw, Wheeljack, Permafrost, Fritz
Summary Mirage hosts another event in his lounge. It goes pretty well this time! Even with Lockjaw and her enormous sword.

A grand staircase serves as the entrance to the lounge. Upon descending, the first thing that draws the optics is the neon sign that hangs on the wall to the right. It announces "Visages," with quotation marks, in elegant, blue script. The lighting is dim, accentuated by soft lanterns placed on the tables, in order to foster an intimate setting.

The lounge itself is small, only large enough to hold several dozen patrons at any one time. The counter in the far, right corner does play host to a handful of stools; however, the majority of sitting space has been given over to chairs placed around low-slung coffee tables. They are placed at irregular intervals. This allows mecha to choose whether they would prefer to sit near others to socialize or in a more private alcove. Most mecha speak in hushed tones, leaning towards each other in order to be better heard and understood.

The centerpiece of the room is a stage along the left wall. A mic always stands at the ready for both scheduled and impromptu performances, along with a line of instruments displayed on stands. Paintings, rather than pictures, of past performances line the wall behind the stage. For days the lounge has been rented out for private gatherings, everything can be cleared away so that the stage can also serve the double purpose of a dance floor. A monitor by the foot of the stairs announces the bar's constantly fluctuating business hours, along with upcoming activity days and private parties.

A lone ficus tree stands stands to the left of the grand staircase. A brass plaque on the pot announces the plant's name as "Fantasia" (also in quotation marks for mysterious reasons).

The floor around the stairs has been cleared of all its usual occupants (including "Fantasia" and the schedule listing activities). Mirage has spread soft mats in their stead for any mecha who may have an unfortunate landing during the night's activities. The lounge owner is seated at a table across the room; it is stacked high with datapads for the participants, releases they would be required to sign in order to absolve "Visages" of any responsibility in the case of personal injury (and to require mecha to pay the charge of repairs if they cause extensive damage to the Lounge). But who is going to actually read it? No one, probably.

Along with the forms, the prizes for the night are displayed prominently. There are two small trophies for the fastest time and the most artful descent, and tied at the base of the first is a certificate for one free day of drinks at the lounge. Tied to the base of the second is a certificate for a free half-day rental of the Lounge for a personal party or event.

"Welcome, welcome," Mirage greets the first enterants. "If you could proceed to the table, I have some forms for you to read and sign before the festivities begin."

Permafrost ... has no idea what's going on. She just heard something was going on, and that's enough to catch the Eurakian's attention. She's still adjusting to the Lost Light's delightfully involved social structure so some strange cultural trial was a fine time to learn more!

That, and the lounge in itself is fancifully facinating in its fanciness. So much so that she almost bumps into the table because she was looking around instead of where she was going. "Oooooo..." She looks at the table, the stack of pads, and then frosty optics focus on Mirage. "... Forms?" The foxtail affixed to the back of her helm like a ponytail swishs as she cants her head to one side with the question.

Banister sliding sounds both utterly ridiculous and extremely entertaining. Not as dramatic as meteor-surfing, perhaps, but a kind of good, silly fun that Wheeljack definitely doesn't mind seeing more of around the ship. It's why, even in the middle of searching for missing parts in his lab (that he could have sworn he had) he's taking a break to stop by Visages for this event. He greets Mirage with a wave and a nod as he proceeds to the table. "You're prepared for this," he notes, glancing over at the table of prizes. He's not expecting to get either of them, but even so, it should be a good time.

Sure enough, he only gives the form the briefest of glances (damages aren't Visages' fault, repairing damage, yes yes yes) before signing.

Fritz enters "Visages" with a wringing of servos. All four of them, in fact, leading to twice the anxiety. He'd heard about the event and it sounded fun, and not, well, that dangerous, at least compared to the other troubles the Lost Light got into. The other troubles he himself had gotten into, in the past few days. Two arms cease in their motions to be held out as he descends the stairs onto the main floor, glancing over at the banister while he's walking. That's the one he'll be sliding down, apparently. It looks kind of fun. He'll be okay....probably.

Upon arriving, Fritz quickly makes his way to the table indicated, two servos still pulling at each other while the other two are clutched tightly behind his back. At least until he's standing in front of where Mirage sits, and one hand reaches up for the stated form. He's trying not to stand to closely to Permafrost or Wheeljack. The first he doesn't know. The latter he's heard rumors about. Neither sit well with him. Just give him the form, let him read and sign.

"Better to be over-prepared than under-prepared," Mirage replies, offering a small smile to Wheeljack. That and he just invested a lot of his savings in this place. He does not want to have to close it down after this little fiasco. Once Wheeljack finishes signing his form, the scout reaches out to take it with one hand and holds out a little square badge emblazoned with the number #1 in his other.

"Your number for the competition," he explains. "It should magnetize to your frame."

He glances towards Permafrost and Fritz. "Yes, I am afraid the forms are a necessity. I hope that will not be a problem?"

"Works for me," Wheeljack says with a nod. He takes a moment examining his frame, to decide where to stick the number. It doesn't seem like it will end up much of a problem, with the current group, but in the end he sticks it to his chestplate, giving it a pat or two to make sure that it stays. That seems as good a place as any, somewhere it won't come off so easily. "Seems like a proper race now," he comments with a chuckle. That accomplished, he steps back to let the rest of the competitors get at the table and the line of datapads. Looks like they're crew members he doesn't recognize, too. Which isn't a bad thing, it's a chance to get to know them with some fun.

"These forms?" Permafrost takes one of the datapads and glances it over. No she's definately not reading the entire thing, just the important parts that stand out. Fortunately checking regulations and local statuates was covered in her Security training. "Oh. Liability forms. You standards and your odd quirks about protection personal goods."

She smiles at Mirage in a way that would probably be more charming and less off-putting if it didn't have two spots of her dental plates pointed into small animalistic fangs. "On Eukaris if someone broke someone else's stuff, you just stabbed them until they recoup for it. Or beg for mercy."

She does however sigh it... By setting the pad down, transforming long enough to press a forepaw to the line, and then transform back to root mode to pick it up and hand it to Mirage... Well there's no other foxes so that works, right?

Fritz's optics dart between the datapad he's given and the other two who are currently signing the same form. "No, no problem at all!" he reassures quickly, though. He takes in more of the text than the other two. Huh...he has to be very careful, it seems, or things could go very badly for him. It's a good thing he's small and light and will likely do more damage to himself than "Visages", because he absolutely doesn't have enough shanix to cover these costs. He signs anyway, forcing fluid down his intake, before handing the datapad back.

Then it's time to look once more at his...competition? Fritz doesn't expect to win anything, he was merely hoping to do something fun, so. It's a little hard for him to think of these two as mechs he has to compete against, which means that in that respect, at least, he's got nothing against them, since he's not really here to win anything.

Fritz does, though, spare Permafrost a worried glance over that proclamation. Is she going to stab him if he upsets her? He's already dealt with Waspinator, he's not put off (that much) by the sudden switch to a beast mode, but. He does shuffle further away. Which brings him closer to Wheeljack. Much better option, in his opinion.

Mirage throws a look at the stranger, the one with the beast mode, that is full of warning. "Weapons are not allowed in the lounge, so I'm afraid that would not be a very effective solution," he responds. Once he receives the other two forms he hands them their competitor numbers in turn, #2 for Fritz and #3 for Permafrost. He glances around to see if there are any others and his brow furrows. A smaller turnout than he had hoped for, but the show must go on.

"Now that those formalities are over with," he begins, shifting to his pedes, "I want to ask if you all understand what we are doing here. Will any of you require an explanation or a demonstration?"

At those words, there is an excited chirp from the ceiling. Mirage sighs as he glances towards the ceiling. "Does that mean its my turn, boss?" Blackstorm quips. The way he says the word boss is almost mocking. He knows that Mirage is annoyed by him.

However, the scout was fairly certain the minibot was going to show up for the night and so he took pains to make sure he was under control. If he cannot stop him from coming, the least he could do is have him under his thumb and ensure he stays behind a desk instead of wreaking havoc. "Yes, Blackstorm, it is. I'd like to introduce you all to the judge for the night."

"Ah, yes, no weapons rule. Same as the less fancy bar." Permafrost merely nods her head a bit as she takes the number panel... and for lack of other decent flat surfaces on her chassis, sticks it to the panel that hangs in front like a loincloth. "Please, by all means, enlighten us in what risks this trial must be dared upon!" The minibot sized beastformer rocks on her heels with excitement. Maybe a little too much excitement.

He really shouldn't be surprised that Blackstorm was hiding up there on the ceiling, but the excited chirp has Wheeljack stepping back at first even as he glances up. As soon as he sees Blackstorm's frame, though, he's relaxing with a laugh. "Hey, Blackstorm," he says cheerfully. "I figured you'd be participating, if anything. But yeah, go ahead and give us the talk!"

<FS3> Fritz rolls Bravery: Failure. (1 4 5)

<FS3> Fritz rolls Hiding: Success. (2 2 2 4 2 5 6 6 7 2)

The number is magnetized to his chassis. Fritz is ready for a fun slide down a banister, despite his continued anxiety concerning Permafrost. What's with you and the weapons! He's also pretty sure the fliers for this even mentioned that it was all about sliding down a banister. The risks are pretty obvious, in Fritz's opinion. What are you asking for?

Fritz is busy contemplating these thoughts when Blackstorm says something. Which is the only reason it takes him more than an astrosec to squeal and hide behind the nearest surface which, unfortunately, is Wheeljack. Four servos latch themselves onto the scientist as he peers up at their newest addition, yellow optics wide with fear. Who in the hell. "O-O-Oh." That's his response to Mirage's proclamation.

"In that case, if you wouldn't mind getting the captain's chair for me, boss," Blackstorm continues. Mirage throws him a glance that reads 'You can't be serious,' but he moves behind the bar to retrieve the requested item. For all of Blackstorm's antics the scout is well aware that he has a way with people. He will make this night a success, if nothing else, and that is why he is tolerating the minibot's antics. When Mirage returns, he's holding a small booster seat in his hands. It is painted jet black and has blue, glowing inlays like Blackstorm's biolights. Gingerly, he places it on top of the seat he recently vacated.

Clunk. Blackstorm twists and drops from the ceiling, landing on the captain's chair with perfect grace. He settles in with a playful grin. "Our friend here is right to hide," he remarks, gesturing towards Fritz. "This activity is full of danger. You could be humiliated by someone outdoing you; you could fall on your aft and be the laughingstock of the ship; you may be charged exorbitant prices to repair a scuff to the handrail; you may be dismissed if you fail to remember to call me captain for the rest of the night," he explains.

Leaning forwards, he laces his digits on the table. "The rest of it is pretty simple, though. You start at the top of the banister and then you end up at the bottom. Easy enough, right? Who wants to go first?"

Permafrost turns her head a bit to look at the railing up the side of the stairs as the new arrival explains. "Ooooh, I see. It is a trial of courage and dexterity, not strength alone. Excellent!" The threat of bodily harm or embarrassment, if anything, makes her all the MORE excited. Especially if it's happening to someone else. Even if she's acting like this was some tribal ritual rather than social fun and games.

<FS3> Fritz rolls People Pleaser: Good Success. (6 2 8 5 4 7 2 5 6 8 1)

<FS3> Fritz rolls Fainting: Success. (3 3 4 5 8 6 4 5)

"I-I'll do it!" Wow there are so many people here. 'So many people' by Fritz's definition meaning 'more than one'. He knew, coming in, that it was a competition and that he'd be up against others. He knew there would be other mechs participating. And yet, here he was, wanting to do what was asked and get it over with as soon as possible. Goodness, maybe he shouldn't have come at all...

Still, he volunteered, and without waiting for an answer Fritz scrambles back up the staircase, his contestant number still magnetized to his chassis. He carefully settles himself over the banister at the top of the stairs, all four servos holding him in place. When he releases them, well.

It's probable he won't win the award for whoever is fastest. Fritz's lighter, smaller frame, however, means he flies down the banister, screaming the entire time. He doesn't catch himself at the end, rocketing off and landing on the floor face-first. He's dazed, for an astrosec. And then he passes out. Bye.

<FS3> Lockjaw rolls Protective: Good Success. (4 4 4 3 8 2 6 6 6 1 8)

Lockjaw has been meaning to check out this new watering hole since she first heard about it opening, but somehow, she never managed to get around to it. Duties, distractions, the other place was simply closer, whatever. Finally she's found time to poke in, so poke in she does, right as Fritz whizzes down the rails, leaving the massive femme to follow him with a perplexed look, and a "Huh?". Then she ducks in, sword and all, stomping down the stairs until she stops at the fallen smol, towering over him like a cliff. Her voice is cheerful, even a bit amused, but concerned too. "You alive little guy?

<FS3> Wheeljack rolls Medicine: Success. (6 3 1 5 4 5 6 1 8 3 1)

<FS3> Permafrost rolls Dark Humor: Failure. (5 5 4 3 4 5 1)

"Sure thing, Captain," Wheeljack says in Blackstorm's direction, clearly amused. He's not particularly worried about the potential for humiliation, no matter how much Blackstorm talks it up. His ego can take a little bruising. Blackstorm's already had plenty of opportunities for that.

"Go for it!" Wheeljack says, patting the mech who'd ducked down behind him, and giving him an encouraging flash of his fins. It's technically a competition, but that's no reason to give the guy a hard time, especially when he seems so jumpy. At first, it looks like it's going well, the way he carefully settles on the banister, gripping it carefully.

Then the screaming starts. Wheeljack starts forward, in alarm, and moves to kneel by the collapsed bot, ducking to the side to give the new femme room. "I think he'll be okay," he announces, after looking him over for a few moments.

Mirage rushes to the end of the banister when he sees his first competitor collapse. He's a little astonished that he managed that, considering that the soft padding on the floor should prevent any serious injury. However, he has an inkling it might have more to do with the several frights in a row that he received. The scout manages to avoid a side glare at the 'Captain' as he kneels beside Wheeljack. "Are you sure? I can call a medic if there is any concern at all," he interjects.

Blackstorm, meanwhile, is looking a little dumbfounded in his perch across the room. As is his instinct in any tense situation, he responds to it with a joke. "Well, that landing was a smashing success," he quips, chuckling lightly. And then he realizes that's completely inappropriate. "... Sorry."

Permafrost watches Fritz go down the railing. He goes pretty fast, but nothing really interesting happens until he wipes out at the end. And then the mechanic goes to check on him. She actually looks... a little -disappointed- when Wheeljack says he's going to be okay. Though before she can actually say anything she yelps in surprise as the massive Scale Walker stomps past to also investigate. She's quick to not be in Lockjaw's way. Mutters something about big lizards stomping around wherever they want under her breath.

Blackstorm's wisecrack on the other hand, does get a bit of a yip-like laugh out of her.

<FS3> Fritz rolls Whining: Good Success. (5 1 8 4 4 2 8 5 2)

It doesn't take long for Fritz to wake up, groaning as he comes back online, his systems rebooting with the stress his fainting caused. He nearly cracked his faceplate, his arms are splayed over the mat he'd landed on, his frame sore from how he'd failed to keep himself from wiping out like that. Even his processor is sore, though that's more from the fainting than anything else. As he comes back out of his fall, he groans, optics slowly online to see--

That one scientist. Okay. Not so bad. The mech was kind when Fritz dodged behind him. He rolls onto his back, ready to push himself up, until he sees who else is near him.

"Primus above who are you what do you want what did I do!" Fritz's tone is a high-pitched whine as he backpedals across the floor, all four servos moving him like a spider toward the nearest wall.

Lockjaw steps back when Wheeljack comes over to check on on the crash-lander. This guy looks like he knows at least a bit of what he's doing, which is more than she can say in such situations. While he's looking the fellow over, she looks up, spotting, well, what do you know, a fur walker! Or maybe it's just another Cybertronian with a beast mode, though something about her demeanor makes her think otherwise. Could just be wistful thinking though. She gives that one a warning look anyways.

Her attention is soon drawn back to Fritz as the smaller mech begins to scamper away in a panic. "I'm Lockjaw, you fell, and I was checking if you were still alive" she explains with a chuckle. She's well aware of her rather intimidating appearance, with the size, and the teeth, and the giant sword she's still wearing, since no one told her to get rid of it. She means him no harm, however, and is making an attempt to convey it with a smile, minus most of the teeth, and a friendly tone "What were you doing anyways?"

"Nah, he should be up in a few moments," Wheeljack reassures Mirage. He has to turn away to do so, and then his attention is caught up by Blackstorm's little quip, and Permafrost's mutterings... and he completely misses Fritz starting to wake up. For that reason, his first notice is the mech beginning to roll over, then his frantic backpedaling toward the wall. "Whoops, didn't mean to startle you! Just needed to make sure you hadn't banged your helm too hard, mech," Wheeljack says, holding up his hands pacifyingly.

Mirage is relieved to see the mecha move, and by the string of words rushing from his mouth. At least that seemed to confirm this is a case of a little too much fright. "Let's give the mecha some space to calm down. He's fine, he's fine," he assures the rest of the room. He glances down at Fritz and offers out his hand to help him up. "You are fine, aren't you?"

Blackstorm looks relieved, too. The fact the mecha is back on his pedes so fast made his last joke a little less insensitive. Just a little. But he is ready to put this whole situation behind him. The minibot claps his hands enthusiastically for Fritz. "It'll be hard to live up to that one! We're off to a strong start. Who wants to go next?"

Against the wall he's crawled over to, Fritz stills. That enormous, scary bot wanted to see if he was okay? Or, well, alive, anyway. Regardless. Fritz hadn't expected that, and even with all of his servos wrapped around his bent knees, he tilts his helm, frowning beneath his faceplate. Why...? At least for Wheeljack, now that he's planted against a safe surface, Fritz speaks. "Oh. No, you're fine. It's okay. Uh. Sorry." You weren't the one to startle him anyway. He's fine, it's cool, as long as the gator mech doesn't come near him again everything's absolutely alright.

Mirage's offered servo is given a moment of staring before Fritz carefully lifts one of his own to take it, pulling himself to his pedes. "Yeah. I'm good." He gives a smile, though it falls flat considering his faceplate, which at least shifted somewhat with the expression. "Thank you." There's a flush hidden, of course, by said faceplate, as he drops Mirage's servo and moves to press himself back against the wall he'd only just moved away from. He'll watch from here. Don't mind him.

<FS3> Permafrost rolls Snow Business: Good Success. (6 7 1 5 7 2 3)

Permafrost isn't quite sure how Fritz falling on his faceplate is a hard act to follow, but she's already eyeing the railing for herself. Let's see, it's basically a narrow ledge sloping downward. With all the time she's spent climbing up and sliding down mountains this shouldn't be all too hard. Not to mention she's pretty small and light... Permafrost takes a few steps back, if only to get a running start.

The small femme jumps on the rail, landing on it on her stomach instead of her feet, and basically belly-sliding down it like she would a snowy mountain slope. "WHEEEEEEEEEE!" Then grabs the end of the railing at the bottom and flips herself off to land.

No one's answered her question as to what's going on, but judging from what the little mech in the chair said, that wasn't expected to be a one time event. The Furwalker's actions confirm it. (Un)fortunately, that landing is a bit more sucessfull. Still, after giving Fritz a 'you-sure-you're-ok' sort of look, Lockjaw turns to Wheeljack. "So what is going on here? I don't recall such things happening at the other bar."

"If you're sure..." Wheeljack says, but he's willing to take Fritz at his word for it. He pushes himself upright again, taking a step back and glancing over at Lockjaw. "Just some fun," he says to her. "Sliding down the balconies, mostly just because. Feel like joining us?" he asks. Hey, she's already here, might as well, right?

Especially since Permafrost is already taking her turn. And making it look much more fun than Frisk did, at that. Wheeljack chuckles, and takes a few steps back as Permafrost goes flipping off of the end. "Nice one. Guess that means I'm next?"

Blackstorm is giddy at Permafrost's display. Clapping his hands together, he lets out a loud holler of approval. "Nice form!" he calls out. He has got to get this mecha's designation after this is over. They seem like a good time. He might have to give her one of the trophies just to bribe her into being his friend. His optics shift to Wheeljack, though, when the mecha asks his question. "If you've got anything nearly as exciting as that forcefield up your sleeve, this'll be good. Blow me away, Wheeljack."

Mirage, now truly taking a moment to look at the new visitor since his concerns for Fritz have been silenced, turns to face them. He starts to answer the question, "We're having a banister su-" he suddenly pauses, optics locking on the sword. "Hm, I'm afraid swords are not allowed in the Lounge. I apologize for the inconvenience, but you must either find another place to store it or allow me to hold it until you are ready to leave."

Permafrost is either oblivious to Lockjaw's glares in her direction, or simply not caring as she shakes herself off a little. Flicks digits through the collar of fur around her neck to fluff it back up. I really need to write a more thorough discription so people can see how the fur in root mode mimics the look of a heavy winter coat. Then glances in Lockjaw's direction again. "You'd best listen to the management, Scale Walker. Wouldn't want to make a bad impression."

The mini femme is fun to watch, at least, as Fritz remains where he's standing. She moves fast. Nice one! He'd say so if he wasn't still so wary of the assembled mechs. Or most of them, anyway, as Lockjaw receives a grateful look in response. The look she'd given him actually seemed sincere, and it prompted him to respond. Sort of. He's settled on watching the other mechs take their turns, not focusing on Wheeljack's comment toward him, though. Unlike the scientist, he gets Blackstorm's innuendos, and there's a dark pink flush to his hidden cheeks. O-Oh.

<FS3> Wheeljack rolls Transportation: Success. (1 7 2 5 4 6)

Rail sliding, huh? Looks interesting! Lockjaw studies the rails themselves, then the other participants "Maybe I will" she muses. Before she gets to voice any concrete decision, however, she finds herself being addressed by the fellow who'd gone to check on Fritz as well. For a moment, she looks a bit annoyed, though nowhere near angry, then she suddenly bursts out in to a roaring laugh. Reaching behind her, she pulls out her sword, nearly as long as she is tall, and props it up by it's tip on the floor, her hand leisurley resting on the hilt "You can try holding it!" she challenges merrily. She's not seeking to break any rules, but this fellow's offer is much too amusing. Think you can hold it up, little mech?

Her merriment is, however, slightly interrupted by Permafrost's comment. So she was right! "I'm sure you've already managed that somehow, furwalker, shedding everywhere as you do!"

"I think using an invention would be cheating, and I didn't bring anything like that," Wheeljack laughs, but he makes his way to the top of the stairs anyway. Still, he thinks he can manage a little something to make things impressive. "I'll give it a shot," he adds, flickering his fins in a 'wink' in Blackstorm's direction.

Like Permafrost did, Wheeljack backs up a few steps, intent on getting a running start. Unlike her, though, he throws himself into a transformation, using his wheels rather than his frame to slide down the banister. His landing takes him rolling off of the padding, a bit, but he swings his bumper around in a hairpin turn to keep from going all the way across the bar. "How's that?"

"How's that?" Blackstorm asks. "I'll have to try that sometime myself, mecha!" He has a big, dumb grin at the thought (even though he would have the clear advantage of magnawheels to aid him. Blackstorm leans back in his char, rubbing his chin in thought as he examines the three competitors. "You've all given me a hard choice, y'know? The Captain is pleased with tonight's entertainment."

Mirage pauses when the other mecha pulls out her sword, and the edges of optics crinkle with concern at the gesture. An unsheathed sword in his Lounge is even worse. "Let me correct my wording, if you please. If you could assist me in carrying it behind the counter until you are prepared to leave."

<FS3> Permafrost rolls Climbing: Failure. (1 6 2 2 6 3)

Permafrost is distracted from making any snarky retorts to Lockjaw by the sight of Wheeljack using his alt-mode. Despite the time she's already spent on this ship this is the first time she's really seen one of the standard-form cybertronians use their vehicle form. She briefly squees with delight at the sight... then remembers she's still standing on the mats. Oops. This time she does freak out a little, reflexively transforming and leaping for something tall to clime out of the way... and just smacks right into the wall instead as the fancy smooth surface proves to be something her claws can't grip.

Wheeljack's stunt temporarily draws Lockjaw's attention away from both Mirage and Permafrost. She hasn't had much of a chance to witness standards in their altmodes either, and she definitely wasn't aware that they could do things like that. Her attention doesn't stay there long either, however, as Permafrost's jump has her roaring with laughter again "Now what did that wall ever do to you, Furwalker?" she asks, still laughing. Finally, she manages to calm a bit, enough to turn back to the propertier of the establishment. His reaction earns him a grin. It's probably not helping with the whole gesture thing, given that it's lined with a row of pointy teeth, but she does heft the sword on to her shoulder and proceeds to set it down behind the counter "Anything happens to it, I'm holding you responsible" she gives another grin, this time to emphasize her point, before switching back to her former, merry tone "Now then, I want to give this a try too!" without waiting for an answer, she moves towards the top of the stairs.

"Whoops, sorry," Wheeljack says to Permafrost, as he transforms out of his alt mode and steps away from the piles of padding around the base of the stairs. "Didn't mean to do that!" Well, not the scaring her away part, though he definitely meant to manage the landing like that. Meanwhile, Blackstorm's commentary has him shaking his helm in amusement. Referring to yourself in third person, Blackstorm, really? "It's a hard choice, but someone's got to make it," he says with a grin. "So what'll it be?"

Permafrost rolls over to get back on her paws. Shrugs her little shoulders, though if its at Wheeljack or Lockjaw's comment is anyone's guess. "I have run into harder things," she brushes it off. Then realizes Lockjaw is going to try, and motions at Wheeljack with a paw. "Uh. You probably want to move out of way. Just in case." Lockjaw's pretty big, and if she's gonna be coming whizzing down that railing.

Mirage begins to chase the new arrival up the stairs, a slight look of unease in his optics. This patron is just doing their best to keep him on the tips of his pedes, aren't they? He has an inkling that he will not get to the top of the stairs in time to stop her, but he certainly is going to try. "Wait, you haven't signed the release form yet!" he pleads with her.

Blackstorm turns to watch the unexpected entrant at the top of the stairs, leaning forwards with interest. "A really hard choice," he parrots Wheeljack, clearly distracted by the excitement. "I wish I could wait to award them until after this new arrival, looks like it'll be an interesting entry, but I don't think the boss would be happy if I gave the prizes away to an unofficial entrant so..."

He finally pulls his gaze away long enough to gesture towards Fritz with a playful grin. "Prize for the fastest time, because you hit the floor faster than any of us and you look like you could use a drink. And for style, to the... what's your designation?" he asks Permafrost. Because he wanted the chance to ask her designation mostly. He throws an apologetic glance to Jack, as his had been pretty cool, too.

"I'm sure you have" Lockjaw calls mockingly down to Permafrost as she ascends the stairs. It's only at the top does she pause, her hand already on the railing to glance back down at Mirage. She gives a low sigh "Fine, give it here." so much trouble for a little fun. Although... she looks up at Blackstorm when he starts talking. There were prizes? Oh well. She did come late to the party. Maybe she can still extract a bit of fun "Does that mean I can skip the for now?" looking at Mirage, she juts a thumb at the smaller mech "And do I need it to get a drink too, or should I just head down to the other place?"

Wheeljack nods to Permafrost. As long as she's sure she's okay, he can accept that. Like Fritz, she doesn't seem like she's been overly scuffed or dented by the experience, and with her urging, he moves a couple more steps out of the way, even though it seems like her attention is taken up by something Mirage is saying.

Meanwhile, Blackstorm's awarding the prizes. Wheeljack shakes his helm at the reasoning, but he's not upset by it. He came to have fun, after all, not to win a prize. He waves off Blackstorm's apology. Permafrost's move was pretty cool, after all. "Congrats, both of you," he says to them.

Fritz is watching Lockjaw, now. Mostly because of that sword. Oh. Oh my. He'd been so content with the going-ons a moment ago when Permafrost slid down on her belly. Now he was - well, there were a lot of emotions happening. Was he scared? Interested? Anxious? Excited? His processor really couldn't decide. Maybe it was none of those things. His gaze flicked about the room, over the other 'contestants', even as Lockjaw took her place at the head of the stairs. Oh, so she was competing too. Then he couldn't expect--

Fritz's vocalizer stuttered on a what when he was given a prize. It didnt' matter why. He'd won something! He never won anything! Again, the faceplate shifted with the sweet smile that crossed his lips, unseen to those around him. "Well, uh, I guess that's something, at least!" Wow, an actual award, even if he'd been given it because he'd wiped the hell out.

"I'll treat you!" Fritz hollers back at Lockjaw, before realizing what he's done and slapping a servo over his faceplate. As if that made any difference. He's just really grateful, okay, he's trying. Anyway he quietly thanks Blackstorm for the award, and then steps once more off to the side.

Permafrost turns her attention from watching Lockjaw for a moment when the judge ambles up and asks her... what?... didn't she sign the form?.. Oh, that's right, the standards don't 'read' pawprints. Oi, so many little foibles to adjust to. "Permafrost," she answers. No, she is entirely unaware of any ulterior motives Blackstorm might have in asking. She's not been around the crew, or larger social gatherings in general, to pick up on those sort of things. ".. Does that mean I won something?"

"I'm afraid no one is sliding down the banister without signing the release form," Mirage answers her. Not that he can entirely stop some mecha from attempting it during business hours, but at least this way they were under his watchful gaze. Relieved, he scurries back to the table to retrieve one of the datapads and returns with it a moment later. "Thank you for taking the time to do so."

Blackstorm tilts his helm, considering Permafrost's name. It's a good one. He likes it, and he likes her! This judge thing worked out well, considering he might come out of it with a new friend. "Yep," he answers. "First prize, you got to meet me. And, uh, that shiny cup thing. That too. And a coupon for stuff."

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