From Transformers: Lost and Found
|Location||Lost Light - Recreation -- Observation Deck|
|Participants||Gearstrip, Frisk, Inferno|
|Summary||Some bots burning the midnight oil run across one who actually has to work|
A hexagonal room that mimics the shape of the bridge two decks above, the Observation Deck likewise has two rows of windows that look out into the vast dark of space. Seating arranged casually throughout the room can be retracted into the deck or rearranged into rows for solemn ceremonies. If there's a big event, it's going to be held here.
There is a large graffiti pattern etched into the floor of the observation deck. It is a foreign language -- a galactic language that some of the travelers on the ship are more familiar with than others -- and essentially refers, via profane language, an anti-religious sentiment that could be directed at any number of the religious practitioners of the ship (but probably not the Camiens, who have their own thing going on).
About half of the graffiti, though, has already been cleared from the floor via the careful replacement of the floor tiles over the concealed seats. Gearstrip has a stack of tiles set up on top of a Magnusian-sized chair that she is rolling around the floor, and moves on to the next floor tile to start unscrewing it from its moorings with a hand tool. As she works, she hums.
Frisk had been passing by when the humming catches his attention. Huh, normally theres no one out and about around this part of the ship during this time. Which is what made it so easy to snoop around here. Peeking in the door, Frisk observes the femme quickly making her way through the tiles and grafitti. What is going on here? Best way to find out! Quickly, and on surprisingly quiet pedes, Frisk sneaks up behind her and swings up onto the big chair she is using. Perching himself for maximum surprise (and frankly just plain impressive balancing) he sits on the back of the chair before loudly saying, "What does ...'Sdtractin' mean?" He completely botched the pronunciation of that piece of graffiti.
Inferno is having One Of Those Nights where he just can't sleep. Even if there isn't really an actual 'night' aboard a ship in the middle of space, but you get the picture. Anyway, not having wanted to stay in his hab and possibly disturb Huffer with his tossing and turning, Inferno's decided to take a walk around the ship, hoping it'll tire him out enough that by the time he loops back to his habsuite he'll be ready to get back to recharging. He might also be hoping Red Alert's got a night shift and that he might run into the shorter mech by accident. 'Accident'.
When he passes near the observation deck, he, like Frisk before him, is distracted by the sound of voices inside, and so he peeks in to see what's going on and who might be out and about this late. The femme with the chair is less surprising than the tiny little - that must be a Eukarian, perched atop it. Huh. "Hey," 'Ferno says as he enters, nodding at Gearstrip. He's likely seen her out and about before, though never spoken much. Frisk is the new face. "What's goin' on?"
Gearstrip startles. She flips the tile that she is holding in her hands into the air. Fumbling to catch it before it lands, she swipes forward with both arms, misses, and hits the deck. It's very graceful, particularly when the tile lands on her back. "Whoops," she mutters, facefirst, into the decking that she has yet to move off of its place. "Well, that was embarrassing. Before I look up, how many of you are there behind me?"
Frisk bites down a laugh at the femme's reaction, watching as the tile goes down and down and plops on her back. Not as satisfying as it would have been if it shattered but Frisk will take what he can get. Hopping down on the arm of the chair, he swings down to the floor and steps closer to her. "Just two." Deciding to take mercy on the poor thing, Frisk grips the tile and lifts it off her back, balancing it in one hand as he waits for her to get up. "And you say embarrassing, I say a pretty good catch."
Before Inferno's question can be answered, suddenly Gearstrip is faceplanting. He's immediately making his way over to the two much smaller bots, which might have been intimidating if Gearstrip was looking up and if Frisk cared, having something so big barreling down on you. "Are ya okay, sweetheart?" he asks, taking a knee and offering a servo to help her back to her pedes. "Wasn't embarrasin', happens all the time." As he kneels his optics catch what's left visible of the graffiti, and he makes a very distinct o-o face. Well, that just wasn't a very nice thing to write at all.
When Frisk lifts the tile off her back, Gearstrip rolls over onto it. Her wheels spin in place against the floor as she looks up at him, and Inferno, and also at the ceiling. She summarizes: "Ack. I was trying to catch it with my hands, not my aft." Then she hoists her goggles up onto the crown of her helm -- they were covering the bright pale gleam of her optics -- and pushes herself seated upward, legs drawing beneath her into a loose cross. "Thanks for being nice about it. It looked pretty dumb from this direction, though," she says lightly.
Frisk leans the tile against the chair so he doesn't have to hold it. Enough of that! "Hey anyone can catch something in their hands," He mouthlessly grins down at her, "Takes some skill to catch something with your aft." He does sidestep a bit when Inferno makes a beeline for them. The mech likely isn't after him but better safe than sorry, he has had bigger come charging at him for less. He is set to try and sneak off, curiosity overall sated, when Inferno makes the face at the graffiti left. Feathers ruffling slightly, he glances between the red mech and the floor, "you can read that? What's it say?" Being on Eukaris all your life doesn't exactly lend one to learning other languages.
When Gearstrip decides to sit rather than get up, Inferno pulls back his servo, gaze flicking back to her as he gives a comforting smile. "Heh, no problem. I've done plenty a similar things in my day." Almost always because he'd rushed into some sort of danger and gotten himself into trouble because of it, and not always the heroic, selfless trouble you'd think. For instance, it takes a while to come back from trying to get a cat from a tree only to be too eager and accidentally knock the whole thing over.
Mr. Waffles had been just fine, for the record.
To Frisk's question, Inferno's expression turns sheepish, and he shakes his helm. "Ya really don't wanna know, mech." Seriously.
Gearstrip sits backward, her hands dropping to the floor behind her as she tilts her head back to look up at them both. Her helm's edge lifts over her bright optics, and her smile hooks her lips. "I don't actually know what it says, but the work order said 'nasty words about godbothering', so whoever found it and reported it says that it says nasty words about godbothering."
Frisk stares quietly at the Graffiti, contemplating what godbothering could possibly mean. Then he looks at Inferno expectantly, obviously not taking his advice towards not wanting to know. C'mon red guy! Let them have just a hint!
Nope. Not giving you one. Instead, Inferno also settles onto the floor and crosses his legs, still significantly bigger than them both. "Don't think I seen ya 'round these parts before," he says conversationally, tilting his helm, wing-kibble perking in interest. "Name's Inferno. How 'bout you? You're from Eukaris, right? Unless the Dinobots got a new member an' I didn't hear about it." Which is, frankly, completely possible.
"It's not a nice message, that's fer sure," 'Ferno adds as an aside to Gearstrip. "Can't be fun that you have ta come out here at this hour to fix it."
"I'm Gearstrip, of Caminus. I've been here forever but I'm in the vents a lot." Gearstrip smiles a little wider, and then adds, "You might not see me because I'm underfoot the rest of the time." She straightens in her perch on the floor, letting her hands drop to her lap instead. "I work random shifts depending. It's not unusual to do maintenance type work at off times just because people are less likely to need the rooms we're fixing up."
Frisk , instead of sitting on the floor, goes back to perching on the arm of the chair. Yes, good, now he can look down on all of you. "I'm Frisk of the Scale Walker tribe. You sure you can't give us a little hint?" He knows Inferno isn't about to tell, disappointing, but you have to give him credit for effort! Gearstrip and Inferno, will have to remember those names. "Why are you replacing the tiles themselves? Can't you just... I don't know, scrub the graffiti off or something?"
Gearstrip he'd known, but Inferno doesn't say anything, only nods and smiles. Frisk, though - interesting name. If he were anyone else he might have wondered if such a name hinted at a personality to match, such as Swindle's. "Yer hint is that it's not somethin' ya share with polite company." On paper that might've sounded annoyed, but 'Ferno's tone hinges on playful.
"Sometimes ya can, but this is etched, see?" Inferno points at what remains of the original writing. "It's been dug inta the floor, there's no washing that away."
"Yeah, they used one of the acid etchers out of the machine shop." Gearstrip makes a face. "So we had to fabricate new tiles to replace all the ones that were marked up. It's a much more expensive repair and we're going to have to start locking up the hazardous tools in the machine shop with a signin sheet just like the one Logistics has set up in the armory." She scratches at the back of her helm with the tinking of her servos and then sighs. "Ultra Magnus says he's going to design the form before the end of his shift." But she'll never speak to him directly because that would be alt conflict.
<FS3> Frisk rolls Dramatics: Failure. (1 3 3 3 3 2 1)
"Well now," Frisk's tone turns playful and sly to match Inferno's, "I'm not sure I would consider myself to be polite company, per say." At least, that would depend on who you ask. "But! If you say you can't tell me-" Normally Frisk would go all dramatic and put on a show, but really with all that's been happening with the pirates and Lockjaw (which he still hasn't gotten over, despite normally being able to just shrug it off) he can't bring himself to get that much energy up, "... then fine." He does let out a disgruntled huff from his vents, however.
Frisk is beginning to remind Inferno of Blackstorm. The firetruck chuckles when Frisk gives up pressuring him for more info on what the graffiti actually says. He's glad. It'd be a bit complicated to explain, even if thinking about saying that aloud wasn't enough to fluster him somewhat. "That sounds like a good idea, Gearstrip. 'Specially since I'm gettin' the impression this has been happenin' often." And supplying the materials for such horrible acts just made no sense. "Those tools're dangerous anyway, and shouldn't be handled by anythin' less than a professional."
"I'm mostly polite," Gearstrip announces with a crooked grin." Then she sighs a little and shakes her head. "But the machine shop has always let hobbyists come in and work on projects, though!" Gearstrip protests, mourning bygone days before people ruined the hippie lovefest in engineering, apparently. "I mean, I'm a tech and I know what I'm doing, but I've done loads of things in there that weren't for a work order."
Frisk checks the time, frag he is losing his window of opportunity for swiping that... well that thing he had been on his way to see. He totally knows what it is. Its.... something shiny... Shut up. Standing on the chair, Frisk slaps his hands together in a casual motion that will also get their attention, "Well it's been good meeting you two, but I have things that need to be done! Hope to see you both around!" He hops off the chair, onto Inferno's shoulder then the floor. Applause for the trick? No... alright then. "Hope that you can finish replacing the tile soon!" And the Eukarian is gone in a flash of blue feathers.
Inferno opens his mouth to say something about how a hobbyist shouldn't be deterred by the signing out procedure, that they of all people should be alright with it, when Frisk is suddenly skedaddling. His laugh is louder when the mini uses his shoulder as a springboard, essentially, and calls, "Nice ta meet you too!" at Frisk's retreating back. Realizing it has been getting quite late, Inferno stands, smiling down at Gearstrip. "I'd stay an' help, but I really need ta get some sleep. Good luck with the repairs, Strip." Inferno, like Starstruck and Bulkhead (why are all my alts this way) is fond of nicknames. At least he didn't call you Stripper. "See ya later."