2016-12-29 Amica Impressions
From Transformers: Lost and Found
|2016-12-29 Amica Impression|
|Location||Lost Light - Recreation -- Oil Baths|
|Summary||Torque and Fantoccini, amicas of Lieutenant, are able to get a better impression of one another.|
So this is the oil baths, hmm? Fantoccini stepped carefully, an optic watching carefully for any puddles his decidedly delicate balance may be compromised by as he tread into the space. It's sizable, at least - the soak tubs meant for communal bathing are certainly nothing to blow exhaust at. It does lack a bit of that lavish, luxurious feeling a good bath should have in his opinion; but, he supposes, this is, after all, a ship full of soldiers. Sparse decor made for easy cleaning, but not for especially welcoming or relaxing atmospheres. Function over fashion is a bit of a tragedy.
Of course, the baths aren't the only thing that's led him here: even while watching out for puddles he keeps a receptor or two on the door at the far side of the room. So the Other Amica works in there, does she? Hopefully her space to work was as equally spacious as the bath, though doubtful. It was as though ship designers had no idea how much space was required for things like painting and attaching kibble. Did they have a dedicated paint booth? A quick-dryer? A heat lamp for setting protective coats of enamel?
The urge to poke his head in for a quick once-over was strong but. No. Stick to the script. He just happens to be here, inspecting the amenities Tailgate mentioned, and if he happens to stumble upon Torque escaping the body shop well! That's just coincidence! Totally innocent, not suspicious at all, coincidence.
To add to this air of coincidental meetings, he pulls himself up to sit perched at the edge of a tub turned sideways to the shop door - putting his back to it fully could lead to missing her if she sneaks out, and watching it straight on seemed too expectant. No no he'll just sit preening with a hand mirror, checking his joints and cables for bits of debris. Totally normal. Exceptionally casual.
Torque enjoys her second job, don't get her wrong, but it can be a bit irksome sometimes when something doesn't go right. Namely her paint spraying machine getting a clog and backing up, causing a little bit of a.. burst of sorts. After making sure the paint room was thoroughly cleaned and the machine declogged and repaired, she'd close up shop and make her way through the door between rooms, a large, noticeable splatter of neon blue covering most of her upper torso and a healthy portion of her helm with streaks on her face where it was haphazardly wiped off. Her hands are equally coated along with machine grease.
While she expects the regular fair of people here, it's surprising to see Fantoccini again so soon, her antennas flicking up. "Oh, hey there, Fatoccini." She greets warmly, her signature, sunny smile brightening his way. "Having a tour around the ship? Heh, I'd show you the shop, but I gotta scrub this off first before it sets fully." All this is said while making her way to a shower stall.
"Daaaarling what a pleasant surpri-" Fantoccini's twists oh-so-casually to glance over his shoulder at Torque, arching his back and planting his hands delicately against his knee - at least until he sees the state she's in. "Oh darling! What in the galaxy has happened to you?" Immediately he hops down from his seat at the edge of the tub, small pedes click-clacking against the tiling as he scuttles his way over to her to inspect the damage.
Taking her arm gently by the wrist, he stretches it out to inspect the splatter, then does likewise with the other, giving her a quick spin about in his grasp. "Oh my, you poor thing - unless, of course, splatter-grunge is the aesthetic you're aiming for in which case: bravo." All the same, until told otherwise, he'll be ushering Torque towards the showerheads with some haste. Hurry hurry get it diluted before it dries entirely!
Torque makes a soft squeak of a noise when her wrist is taken, fingers twitching reflexively, as well as the other. It's a strange feeling to be turned about like this, but she still laughs, finding it amusing to see him so upset by her appearance. "'Course probably make it work if I really wanted." She muses at the thought and settles in a stall after being lead along, testing the water and stepping under.
Her face is first, hands scouring over it briefly, before she leans out to talk while taking a brush to the rest of her. "The paint machine clogged up and kinda exploded on me and a customer. Not a big surprise, was bound to happen eventually. I'll have to order a new filter." A quick dip back under has more blue swirling down the drains, her familiar purple starting to peek through the mess. "So were you lookin' to take a dip, or just lookin' around?" She peers back from the spray again, smirking with antennas flicking water off. "I wouldn't mind having a soak myself if you wanna join me. Have some amica to amica time."
There's a visible flow of relief that washes through Fantoccini when the blue paint runs off without too much effort. He'll stay outside the stall - they're really too small for him to cram into for fussing over her - leaning on the edge of the divider to wait for her to wash. He's in the process of examining his fingers for smudges of blue when she leans back out. "Tailgate offered us the use of the amenities on board since we'll be staying a while, if not indefinitely." They're staying indefinitely, he's certain, but verbal contracts are binding and he doesn't want to accidentally commit to anything too soon. "A soak would be lovely, darling, I think I shall join you~"
Some Amica to Amica time? Just what he'd hoped for - he really thought this would be more difficult to come by.
Of course, not everyone is as petty and grudge-holding as he is, he supposes. For the best, really.
Torque is pretty easygoing and not hard at all to get along with, so it's no surprise she's happy to get to know Fanto so quickly. And so, once she's scrubbed clean of paint, grease, and daily dirt, she steps out of the stall and doesn't much bother toweling off when urging him back to the tubs with an eager wave.
"They've got some nice scents to choose from if you wanna use them. I like it plain, myself." Which is why she's already stepping into one of the larger tubs without hesitation, one with plenty of room for the both of them. Sinking in with a content look to her, ear fins drooping, she tilts her helm up to the larger mech and asks with chipper curiosity, "So how long have you known Lieutenant and that Disaster mech? Long time, from the sounds of it."
Eugh. He can only imagine the overpowering aroma of cheaply mass produced scents sold in bulk. "Plain is best, I think," Fantoccini agrees, stepping carefully around the tub, he seeks out the steps up instead of simply hopping over the edge, allowing himself to slide in at least somewhat elegantly with a pensive hum as he settles in across from Torque. Her quesions ... irk, a little, that resentment towards Ten's secrecy flaring to life again before being carefully boxed and shelved away for later. "Lieutenant," he sighs, reluctantly referring to him by his new chosen name, "I have known him literally all my life. We were born in the same field, not far from one another, and we were together as protoforms taking our first shapes. We kept one another company during our development, and when I grew tall and he did not I carried him on my hip everywhere we went so that he could keep up. As soon as we learned what Amica Endura were I proposed that we should be, the two of us."
A sigh escaped his vents as he sank lower, letting the oil pool in his palms, then lifting them to let it trail down through his fingers in little waterfalls. "Disaster... Hm. When Lieutenant disappeared, I held out hope that he would come home to Iacon and tell me what I'd done to make him run away. But of course, he did not, and the war happened, and evacuations, and the life in the neutral colony and so on and so forth." He rolled his wrist in a dismissive gesture at his own story. Hurry it up, nevermind the details. "It was pure chance that our paths crossed in space. Of course, he didn't tell me right away who he was, and I had no idea. I couldn't recognize him in this new body, with this new name, but there were... mannerisms that reminded me of him. Disaster was one of his crewmates on that ship of happenstance, a darling little ray of sunshine with ten million questions. I took a liking to him, which meant Tormentor took a liking to me, I suppose. Disaster was very close with him, in a manner... different from Lieutenant's relationship with the mech. Lieutenant was an Autobot by then, though, so we couldn't stay together for as long as I'd've liked - he went back into the fray soon after that. I only learned of Tormentor's death through the grapevine, if you will - a friend of mine was assisting with the NAILs on Cybertron, helping to care for them, and Disaster ended up with him when Lieutenant ... went off the edge."
Hmm... perhaps this was oversharing. But Primus damn him, he's so tired of Ten hiding everything and expecting no one to know who he is, pushing people away even while he craves their closeness. Frankly, he's ready to smack the mech in the head.
Torque listens, enraptured in the story that spills from Fantoccini, her optics a hair brighter with wonder while settled above the oil. There are some points of the story that catch her, like mention of Lieu being smaller then. Would that explain his spark..? She tucks that away for another time.
"I.. had no idea." She utters softly when he finishes, quietness lingering about her with gaze on the lightly rippling oil. "..I'm sorry he never told me any of this. About you and the others. And I know I shouldn't be apologizing, but I think part of it's my fault, too, for not pressing. ..I asked Lieu to be my amica knowing one day he'd feel strong enough to tell me, so I never dug. Not that I blame him, we've all got something we've yet to say for one reason or another.."
Hmmmm. Fantoccini allows the skeptical frown that passes over his face to run its course before he slides a little closer to Torque. "So how long have you known Lieutenant?" he presses, head tipped in polite interest, the frown smoothed out to something more neutral. "If you didn't know about his life, or that he left one behind, what prompted the proposal? He seems happy with you, regardless, but I'm curious."
Torque doesn't appear to mind the closer proximity. Or at least if she does she doesn't show it. Rather, the medic offers a weak smile to the question, looking off a moment in thought. "I think it's.. almost a year now since I first met him. Short, I know." A faint snort from the memory. "He was so scared of me, poor mech. Could barely handle being in the same room. I know why now, but.. I never gave up on him."
She looks back up to the multi-limbed mech, optics meeting, though no challenge comes with it. All it is is kind, thoughtful as she thinks back. "I asked him because, after all he endured, he was able to trust me, which I know wasn't easy. Little by little I've been able to get through that shell of his and actually see the real mech underneath. The one that admits when he needs help, brings little surprise gifts, or is even able to open up and laugh. He's stubborn, but he's kind, and I love him for that."
.......Dammit. Who gave her the right to be cute? Fantoccini sighs and slumps back, giving her space to her once more as he sinks down to his chin in the oil. "I only recently learned the root of his fear of medics," he rumbled unhappily, but more sad than angry. "And why he ran away from Iacon. He's so hard to get information out of - I have to pin him in corners and demand to know to learn anything! And he keeps running away from me..."
Fantoccini's visor darkens, his optics closing beneath it while he contemplates the oil's warmth. "I don't know what to do with him sometimes. I'm just sort of bracing myself for him to run away again... but ... I've told him I won't continue to chase him. I won't take more centuries of wondering, of worrying, of mourning because of his secrecy... so in that respect I suppose it's a good thing he's making new Amica who will still chase after him... Frankly, three times is enough for me..."
Inner brows knit up some at Fanto's defeated slump and talk of Lieu, a frown touching her lips. "..I don't think he's gonna run. Not while we're both here now." Quietly she slips up beside him, simply sitting there, body language alluding to being open to touch if he wishes it. "And whoever heard of an amica that fully gives up chasing." Mouth curls up at the edges and her face melts to something sweeter as helm dips more to his level. "But I think with him running away... I kinda see him as a petrorabbit. Easily startled. So running him into a corner all the time..." A mild glance away. "I'm not telling you how to be his amica, no one has that right to tell anyone, but I guess with him all I did was just.. hold my hand out and wait for him to come to it."
Hold out his hand and wait? Wait for how long? Five more centuries? Ten more centuries? Fantoccini's visor lights in a thin line of light, his mouth pursing in a displeased mask directly opposite of her soft smile. I'm not telling you but I'm definitely judging you, basically. How dare she. She who had known Ten for only a year when he had known him his entire function from the moment they were both born! Ugh.
"Well, this has been an interesting talk." Fantoccini sighs, reaching back for the edge of the bath to pull himself up to his feet, each set of arms reaching up to the ledge to aid in his uprightness. He lets the oil drip for a moment before stepping out, mindful of slippery pedes on the stairs and trailing droplets in his wake. "As his physician you should know this is not his original frame. It's much larger than he is supposed to be. And I do not feel any guilt in telling you this as I have told him extensively that if he did not then I would. He is also probably still suffering from the effects of withdrawal and he's told me he's seeing no one for assistance he promised me that he would get. So. You may stand there and hold your hand out for as long as you'd like and watch him wither away with his reluctance to care for himself, but I am not content to do the same."
A quick pat-down to relieve himself of the excess oil, checking in the mirrors to be sure he's not still dripping or spotted from uneven drying, he lays the towel aside and clacks his way towards the door with a flounce.
Harrumph. "Do enjoy the rest of your bath, Doctor."