2017-02-22 What Fits
From Transformers: Lost and Found
|Location||Lost Light Recreation- Practice Rooms|
|Summary||Small talk, literally!|
With the combat division out of the practice rooms for the day, it allows the rest of them to get in the time they need; unfortunately, a number of the training dummies and drones have seen better days, which doesn't leave much in the way for active practice. So, Skystalker has to settle for staff drills on his own, sans usual drone or thick-sided dummy-- the only sounds he makes are those that come from his vents and the thrusters on his back and feet as he goes through his practice drills. Even landing back onto the floor comes with the attempt at a barest -tink- of metal boots when touching down. Skystalker's staff whistles softly through the air as he moves, one-two, one-two-three, one-two-backhand spin--
How did he get here? Or more importantly, how did he get all the way up near the ceiling? Lieutenant really doesn't want to think about it, a moment in his mind tells him not to think about last night just yet. Let something remain a mystery for once and accept it. From his ledge the bleary-optic temporary mini looks over at the ground. Seems it's only Skystalker in the wake of what Combat left behind. Silently, the librarian watches for a while, the graceful movements as the mech practically dances with the staff as his partner.
Lieutenant has seen this once before, but would rather smother that memory than recall it. As much as he'd love to move like so, he's not built to pull it off like Sky and Drift. He doubts he's been noticed and tries to keep it as such. So when Sky turns, he hops off his perch to fall straight down, using his wings to keep him from making any sound as he touches the ground. Shhhh, he wasn't here, and he most certainly didn't end up here because of drunk shenanigans. In some moments it is all much more of a dance than a drill, when sweeping movements take over for tight turns, and when the arching movements of the staff turn into something that might feel like a ripple through water rather than a hard downward strike.
Lieutenant's descent goes unnoticed at first, as Skystalker has absorbed himself in the dance with his staff instead. He is not looking to find any audience watching, nor listening for eavesdroppers that coast down from where the ceiling beams interconnect. But whether luck or happenstance or poor timing, Skystalker's maneuvers take him listing up into the air with splayed wings at his back and the burn of thrusters, turning to strike in a whirlwind at an invisible enemy-- and surprising himself when he sets eyes on his apparent company. ...Oh.
Lieutenant wasn't expecting that to happen. It's quite a display to see until amber optics meets gold, catching the avian off guard. "Eep!" Noise escapes him as he was trying to go unseen. Skystalker probably hasn't noticed him watching the whole time but that doesn't quell the shame of being caught. "This... is not the library," he mutters quietly, trying to play off the fact he blacked out in the Practice rooms and was watching the other. A faint tint of pink on his cheeks, highlighting his normally hidden freckles, gives away his embarrassment.
Skystalker is less concerned about possibly being watched-- people watch him all the time anyway, he is used to tuning it out-- and more concerned with the fact that Lieutenant is approximately one Tailgate tall. He lingers there in the air with wings splayed, even the smaller bits extended, thrusters an idle heat as he alights back onto the floor.
"No, it isn't..." Skystalker answers out loud, mouth caught between a smile and a frown, unsure of which to go for. "Why..." Skystalker pauses noticeably, also unsure of what to ask first, though his amber eyes stay relatively locked on.
"Because the C-E Station was not enough excitement" complete with air quotes as his embarrassment is replaced with an unamused expression, "for my life." Lieutenant sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, "It was an accident that involved breaking Brainstorm's Mass Displacement gun... thingy and shrinking a few things. They grow back to normal over time." Lieutenant, however, drew the short straw -literally- and has had the slowest growth a Cybertronian has ever had. His fins flicker in annoyance at his predicament. Starstruck and Fortress Maximus are at normal heights now, but he is still just barely getting out of the minibot stage. His hands placed on his hips, covering the freckles that pepper them, "Cannot say anything is surprising on this ship anymore."
Skystalker's optics narrow more out of curiosity when Lieutenant starts talking, and he pads closer with an equally curious gait. He has to look closer-- last time this happened he wasn't exactly... of sorts, and the other mech had comforted him then. While Lieutenant doesn't seem exactly forlorn, Skystalker can at least see without hindrance now. Maybe he can't help, but-- he can get a good look at those markings? Amber eyes skitter across them, a little studious. Hm.
"Right?" Skystalker flashes a smile, setting the end of his staff against the floor and leaning down to more of the now-minibot's level, a hand on his knee. "Mass displacement, huh? He couldn't set you back to normal?"
Lieutenant is curious at briefly being studied but chalks it up to analyzing his current size. Yes, he's short, he looks up at the spacer, studying him in return. Almost staring purposefully, as if this were some challenge. The avian bristles slightly at Skystalker kneeling. He quickly reminds himself that Skystalker doesn't mean it in a condescending way like most did when he was small the first time. "I have not yet informed Brainstorm I was a part of the mess. I do intend to make it up to him, once I am at my appropriate height once more."
"Make it up to him? Like shrink him down to pede size in revenge?" Skystalker can't help but laugh, the sound soft and his features earnest when Lieutenant studies them in return. "I've seen the markings on your face briefly before, but I didn't know you had them all over... why do you cover them up? Sorry-- is that too much prying?" Skystalker only seems to realize he might be poking too hard once he's asked, standing up straight again and clearing his vocalizer, hands on his staff. "Anyway... I'm sure he could have fixed it for you... when will you go back to normal?"
Shrink the Scientist is a pleasant thought, but Lieutenant must leave that to fantasy, sadly. Besides, Brainstorm did help Wheeljack get the back to normal size last time. No, the avian has an even better idea, that might come back to bite him in the future. When Skystalker mentions his 'markings' the librarian tenses. The baths washed off his makeup and he's been running around the ship exposed! Oh Primes, why??? He tugs his visor over his face to try hiding the ones there, wraps around his middle to attempting to hide those, and keeps his legs together, but he has too many to keep out of sight.
"He probably could," Lieutenant agrees, moving passed the unsightly freckles, "but I will give it another week before begging for assistance."
With the reaction that Sky gets on mentioning the markings, he seems apologetic and offers a frown of similar nature. Oops.
"Okay. I just don't want you to get hurt or anything-- Brainstorm isn't known for his safety, only his experiments." Skystalker offers reassuringly, smile soft. "So... how long were you in here, anyhow?"
With his visor over his optics, Lieutenant can't quite see the frown. With a heavy sigh, he shoves it back up into it's usual position. He can't hide them now, and he has no makeup on him to try and cover them up now. "I already have my obituary written already if something happens." he replies flippantly. He nearly died last time this happened, he wouldn't be surprised if lightning strikes twice in this situation. A hand wave of nonchalance at the idea of dying as he answers Sky's question. "Three hours and seven-- eighteen minutes now." He may have blacked out but he knows how long he's been around. "So, my turn to ask questions, why the staff? You have weapons built into your arms already." Remember the cult you started on Velocitron?
Skystalker's frown comes back at the mention of an obituary. That is most certainly not reassuring, Lieutenant. "That's not... just... if you feel something bad coming on, find Torque, okay?" He vents outward in a low gush of warm air. "You were here for my whole practice?" At least this brings back part of a good mood to Skystalker. "I- my weapons? Mm." The starfighter pauses here, more considering.
"I have a cannon too. Not just the plasma pistols--" Sky runs two fingers down the length of a forearm where the sleek weapons are hidden. "But I don't get it out much. It's dangerous." Amber optics flutter from Lieutenant to the staff in his grip. "It's grace and extension, where the guns are force and fire."
Well he'll have to tell Torque, because she'll give him those crestfallen optics if he survives after neglecting to tell her. He's not yet immune to those. Lieutenant lets that all slide, as it's not important. "You certainly do not weight heavy enough to counterbalance a cannon." he speculates, with a hum, giving the spacer a once over. "Considering your light build, that seems more dangerous to you than whomever you would ever fire upon." That was his thoughts, perhaps Skystalker was built with something to help that, but there is no x-ray around to know for sure. "The staff seems to suit you best, a good choice in a weapon."
"It's not exactly-- like Soundwave's, for instance." Skystalker purses his lips in thought. "It's forgebuilt to my alt mode. It's--" Rather than continue trying to muscle an explanation, he nods at the mention of danger, and smiles at the approval of his staff. "Non-lethal. Swift. Debilitating. You know. I don't like to... hurt. If I have to, I will, but even then I'm not exactly the one to carry forgebuilt weapons lightly..."
In regards to his earlier words, the sheaves of armor on his forearms retract to unfurl plasma guns, and his wings tuck back as he turns, showing Lieutenant the unfolding of sleek plate at his spine and back as it moves aside to let out an equally sleek weapon that curls up and over his head first, before he angles it to point over one shoulder instead. The muzzle of it when he turns back is similar to the shape of his alt, vaguely like a talon of some dark bird.
Lieutenant remains quiet, listening silently as Skystalker clarifies his weaponry. Interesting how a neutral has such weapons built into him, and yet the Autobot is built like a civilian. He's just small and defenseless without his guns in their holsters or his sniper rifle. He always has been. The librarian raises an optic ridge at Skystalker's display of weapons and at how they transform out. If Primus were real, he must have had a particular aesthetic theme going on for this one. "Impressive." He muses with a nod at them. "They look... good." That's what you say after looking at a full display of someone's weapons, right?
"Maybe." Maybe impressive, maybe looking good. Skystalker shies a little, smiling slightly as he tucks everything back in, the cannon going last once he gives it a short glance. They were all polished after the last use, and they remain that way. Unused by and large. "There they are, but they seem so foreign, sometimes... is that strange?" The staff is lifted up somewhat proudly. "But this, for some reason? Not so much." It feels right."
"Well they do not suit you," Lieutenant agrees, with a flick of his fins, "They look nice on you but it is not you. You are kind, understanding, wise, and gentle, and the staff supports that picture of you." He folds his arms across his chest, giving a defiant nod. Plus, Skystalker looks far more skillful when using a staff than just 'pew-pew' with plasma guns. Some weapons are better suited for others than those that are more powerful. Besides, there is no more war, no need to shoot anyone down.
"Maybe one day they'll suit me. The image." Or not. Skystalker gives a small shrug of his shoulders, wings fidgeting back into place. He laughs shyly at the description Lieutenant gives him, both hands holding onto the staff again. A brace. Support. His mouth curls to one side, just crooked enough to read as playful. "Sometimes I don't feel very wise. But since that's what everyone seems to think..."
The avian is not very good at playful, at least not when sober. "You seem to have experience in many things, good and bad, and when you give advice, it is good. It comes from a knowledgable source that makes someone realize your words are right." Lieutenant can attest to this, given the times Skystalker has seen him upset. Interesting how often that occurs... His facade is slipping so he'll have to do better to lock away his feelings in the future.
Experience? Is that what makes him wise? Is it so good then? Skystalker vents slowly outward, the air from his core still heated from practice. His optics turn away only briefly, before searching Lieutenant's features. "If that's the case sometimes I wish I weren't so wise. But I guess I can't take back experience." Sky rolls his shoulder in a shrug, managing to stave off anything else with a small laugh. "But thank you, for the kind words."
Lieutenant agrees with the wish. It would be nice not to experience anything to learn from it. That's where reading can help, but it's not as 'heartfelt' perhaps. "You are welcome," the librarian replies. "I shall cease wasting your time and head to the library." Because this is still the practice rooms, and he still has a shift to get onto.
"You're not wasting my time, I promise. Besides, if you were, at least you're a good waste of my time?" Sky smiles a bit again, taking his staff up in one hand to twist it around at his side, warming back up. "And I know you seemed at unease when I mentioned it, but... I think your markings are very charming." The starfighter makes a small gesture to his own cheekbones, and down along his frame to mirror the smattering on Lieutenant. Maybe he will feel less strange if he receives an honest compliment. "See you soon? Do not be surprised if I come to check on your... predicament while I'm at the library, hm?"
Lieutenants face flushes at the compliment, averting his optics from the mech. Skystalker was just saying that to be nice, he must be. "They would look better on you." He replies in a quiet tone, before straightening to salute the spacer farewell, he may see him again soon. Or whenever he stops into the library. The flier is just going to take a quick detour to his room to cover up his unsightly freckles and write an apology note to Brainstorm and Fortress Maximus.