From Transformers: Lost and Found
|Location||Lost Light - Docks and Storage|
|Summary||Some work talk.|
It's one of those shifts where Hunker's the main 'manager' on duty, overseeing the other Logistics members and their work. Generally this goes well! Logistics is full of incredible employees, and despite his nerves in the beginning, Hunker's been having an alright time of it. Except for today...
"I don't understand it." Hunker looks at his datapad, a frown twisting his lips, and then back to the crates stacked in front of him. "A whole energon shipment, soured. We're gonna be short..." He raises a hand, scrubs the heel of it over his face before turning to the mech he'd called in to help him with this. "We'll have to move the crates outta here to be disposed of, make another order. Won't come in for another week, but with Tempo's supply we oughta be alright." He looks up, cracking a smile to cover the stress. "They got better stuff anyway, right?"
Bone-Spur appreciates the steadiness and the quiet of logistics, and even moreso now when the non-limits of space outside make her clench her teeth anytime she looks outside. Stars are nice when she is not careening past them in a giant can inside a giant man.
It distracts her, to work in storage. Quiet, no windows, nobody causing a mess-- Though of course things happen. She smells the energon when she gets there, on time for her shift, face rankling as she approaches Hunker. "What the slag?" Bone-Spur's entrance is, as always, eloquently vocalized, as she lifts a hand to mime fanning the air from her face. "I hate that smell. What's up, Hunk?"
The mech beside him shrugs, moving to lift one of the boxes and start carting it away for disposal. Hunker's smile fades some. Well, alright then.
Hunker turns his attention instead to Bone-Spur, greeting her with a, "Spur. It don't smell too good, no." The thought occurs that, as a beastformer, her olfactory sensors are probably more finely tuned than his, and the grin he gives is sheepish. "Got us a soured shipment, lookin' to move it out for waste. Sorry 'bout the smell - I was gonna ask if you wanted to give us a hand, but you don't hafta if it's too much for you." There's no judgment, only sincerity. He can just put the datapad away and help that hauler himself, afte rall.
"Hff. If it's too much?" Bone Spur looks at Hunker as if he's grown a second head. Sometimes people are a little -too- nice. She laughs and shakes her head. "Of course I'll help, what kinda question is that?" She turns and glances past her shoulder to Hunker, tipping her head towards some of the shipment in question. "Just send'em to disposal, then?"
"On the olfactory--" Hunker begins, before her look filters through. He chuckles, guns spinning in embarrassment as he rubs at the back of his neck cabling. "Figured I'd offer. Yeah, we're just puttin' 'em in the trash. Not much else to do with 'em at this point." He sighs, looking back to his datapad as he tallies up the crates to be thrown away. "And while we're at it..."
Tucking the datapad after all, Hunker moves to grab a crate himself. He doesn't like standing around when he could be helping. "Don't think I've gotten the chance to talk to you much. Been pretty busy the past few months--" Understatement. "--but that's not really an excuse, heh. How you doin' now that we're back in space? You came aboard by way of Rigard, ain't that right?"
Bone-Spur laughs when she realizes why he was offering, a sound bumping up out of her chest. "Aw, you." Between Adagio and Hunker, she gets her fill of sweet, big younglings. She hefts a crate up into her hands, glad that it's going to be disposed or recycled. Too bad they don't have a way to uncurdle it.
"Yeah, I did." The dino moves off towards the chute with purpose. "Hooked up with'em on Eukaris, they took me to Rigard... honestly, though, I hate space. Makes me a little antsy, bein' all black and ...spacey." She laughs quietly to herself when she bumbles that out.
Hunker relaxes some, the awkward stiffness to his shoulders easing, helm peeking out around his crate while he follows Bone-Spur to the disposal chute. "I think it's kinda nice. Quiet, peaceful...not so good for when you're feelin' a trip to the beach, though." He chuckles, the sad note to it barely discernable. Not something he'll be doing again, for a long time. "Can be kinda. Mm. Suffocatin' I guess, all that black space out there with nothin' in it, stars and systems all so far apart it takes years to get from one to the next." He pauses long enough to deposit his crate in the disposal, and a beat longer as he thinks over what he's just said. "....Ain't makin' it sound any better, am I?"
"Quiet, yeah. I guess I like more... nature." Bone-Spur shrugs, approaching the disposal and deftly lugging the crate into it and pressing the button. She steps aside for Hunker's turn at it. "All I ever look forward to out here is the next dock. I wish I could appreciate it like some of ya do, but... I like ground, and water, and air. Yeah, no, ya ain't, heh." Still, she smiles at him for it, mouth a wide, crooked grin.
Hunker hums to himself, turning and heading back the way they'd come, where the remainder of the boxes still sit. "I like nature, too. The way we had it on Rigard. Sure gonna miss it." A soft sigh of a vent, guns twisting in a downward position, giving the impression of a wilt. "I been to a lotta organic planets, an' never really had the chance to appreciate most of 'em, not like we did with Rigard. Don't get to see much of nature when you're underground. 'Cept dirt." He grins at her over his shoulder, face partially obscured by the giant ass cannon on his back, as he reaches for thenext crate. "What made you leave Eukaris then, if you don't mind my askin'?"
"I don't mind dirt. Loved the mines on Rigard. Gonna miss mud." Bone-Spur sags visibly in her broad shoulders, lumbering on back to pick up another crate. His question earns an interested raise of brow, and a moment of a smile. "Bored, kinda. Thought I could be more useful somewhere else... exiled from my tribe a long time ago, was just kinda-- around since. Elita and her bunch seemed aight, so..."
"Dirt's not so bad, but it gets kinda boring when you don't see anything else." Hunker's the first to the chute this time, pushing in his crate and pressing the button, stepping aside for Bone-Spur. It's nice, to have someone to chat with while he's working - as long as Penchant isn't around. He doesn't want to look lazy on the job. "Exiled from your tribe? That. Must've been rough." Unsure what to say, he does his slow, awkward shuffle from foot to foot. "Never talked to Elita much, but the rest seemed like good mechs," he recovers, sort of. "Seem like. Hard to remember there's a whole city out there, that we ain't flyin' on our own power no more."
Bone-Spur doesn't worry about looking lazy. That's clear when she obviously takes her sweet time. Long as stuff gets done, right? Why hurry? "Meh, it was good for everyone. Couldn't take control, got my tail whupped. Tribe split, but I stayed away, yaknow? I tried. The split was enough." She certainly doesn't seem torn up about it as she works, taking up another crate and hauling it off. "It's kinda weird, but Tempo's a good egg. Well. Maybe we're the egg, considering." Spur perches the crate on the edge of the chut and scratches at her ragged-edged jaw.
"I guess that makes sense." Hunker has a hard time thinking about splitting from one's tribe, something which reads like a very close-knit group, when he's looked up Eukarian culture. Rather than comment on it - what does he know about tribal politics, as an outsider? - he pulls out the datapad to tick at, and look like he's working even if he's just standing here. "An egg? How're we an egg?" His visor warps with the furrowing of his brown, lips pinched to the side. He doesn't get it.
"You know, how a bird lays eggs? The Lost Light is like Tempo's egg." Bone-Spur mimes an egg shape under a bigger shape. "He's lookin' after us and all. Don't think we'll hatch, but, haha." She seems to peter out a little on the analogy, miming hands falling to her side awkwardly as the crate goes down the chute, stormy eyes glancing back and forth in hopes someone might help her chicken metaphor out by plucking it.
Hunker stares blankly, and if there were gears in his head they'd be turning with determination. A puzzle, and he wanted to solve it. "Tempo's egg...because he's lookin' after us, and we're a smaller ship filled with life that's kept in his 'belly'." Or something. Hunker beams anyway, fairly certain he understands now. "Did I get it right?" Still gotta ask though. Bone-Spur is the expert here on this.
"More or less. But now it sounds weird instead of cute." Bone-Spur puts on her best fake pout, lower jaw jutting and hands shaking loosely. She tried. "He's just, yaknow, a good titan. Likes to make sure we're happy, and he's happy, and I feel damn bad for him havin' to up and run. So... he's like a bird parent." Her hand lifts to scratch at part of the deep ridges in her helm and crest, one foot shuffling.
Hunker can't help himself, a low rumble of a laugh coming up from deep in his chassis, one hand lifting to his mouth in an attempt to hide it. He fails. "It's still kinda cute?" he hazards. It's not, he ruined the cute. Oh well. The laughter fades, fingers fidgeting in the tightness of their grip on his datapad, visor dropping down and away. "Yeah, I don't like that we had to uproot him like that. He's been real good to us all this time, keeps bein' good...maybe we should try'n do something for him back." He doesn't have any ideas yet, and maybe he'll think of some, but first he cycles back around to something else she said. "Does he remind you of Chela?"
Spur glances over to see if there are any more spoilt crates left, looking back to Hunker with a grin. "Heck yeah, I'd be down for that. Dunno whatcha do for a titan, though... Windblade'd know, right?" She rubs her jaw again, thoughtful. Hunker's question has her chortling loudly when he asks it, then leaning in with the back of her hand hiding her mouth from prying eyes. "Hahaa-- slag no. Chela's just Chela. Tempo's got a better personality, if ya ask me."
Hunker makes a mental note of that. 'Ask Windblade what to do for Tempo'. He has no way of knowing she's already thought of the same question, already answered and acted upon it. His musings are cut short when Bone-Spur gets closer, and he automatically leans in, wondering what sort of thing could require such secretive methods of speaking it. "Really? Huh. Though I don't know a whole lot about Chela, beyond him bein' a bird alt." He's embarrassed again, guns twirling. "Guess I'm glad we're Tempo's egg, then, an' not Chela's. Think there's one last crate, tucked in the back there, by the way." He jerks his helm toward where the shipment had been, even as he starts trundling in that direction himself. "Then I just gotta send this report to Pench - slag. He ain't gonna like more bad news. Maybe we should do somethin' for him, too." You already sent him about thirty paperweights, Hunker.
"Chela's a wild one. Tells ya a lot bout Eukaris." Bone-Spur laughs and hooks her thumbs on her hip armor, optics crinkling with her amusement. The cobalt irises of her optics are wide and at ease as she takes the hint and saunters up with Hunker tofind the last crate. Phew, she can sure smell it. Her nose wrinkles when she moves to drag it out. "Little dude already got shafted on his big fancy party... he was so happy bout it too..." The dino shakes her head in pity as she lugs the last crate of curdled energon to the chute for the disposal team. They can figure it out.