2018-05-11 Raise a Glass

From Transformers: Lost and Found

Raise a Glass
Date 2018/05/11
Location Lost Light: Recreation -- Swerve's
Participants Drift, Rodimus, Minimus Ambus
Summary Drift invites Rodimus and Minimus out for a drink.

It's been a long time since Drift, Rodimus, and Minimus were all in the same room together. Somehow Drift has managed to avoid such an awkward scenario since he returned, but with the threat of Unicron literally right around the corner, he's worried he may never get another chance. He sent separate messages to both of them though he made sure to inform them that the other would also be there as to prevent any unwelcome surprises like that disasterous time he pulled such a trick on Perceptor and Skystalker.

He's sitting in a booth at the far side of the bar, and the untouched drinks on the table implies he has thought ahead and ordered for the two mechs; something hard for Rodimus, and unspiked energon for Minimus. He fidgets nervously in his seat, fingers drumming against the glass of his ridiculous looking cocktail as he waits for their arrival.

When Rodimus arrives, he plays casual: he stops to say hello to a few people here and there, although he catches Drift's gaze to give him an upnod of 'be right there'. He manages to avoid collecting a drink, despite an offer or two, and the rueful smile and gesture toward Drift suggests an invitation turned down as well. He gets a rather knowing look in exchange for that when Drift's spotted on the end of the gesture, and it cramps Rodimus's smile a little tight by the time he finally settles in next to Drift.

Swerve's is busy, and they are subject to more than a few side-glances and some dead on front-glances from the curious. But Rodimus is ease itself as he slouches into a chair and says, "Hey." Honestly, it's a little insulting how casual he is. It couldn't be more artificial if he tried.

Despite a consistent pattern of extreme punctuality throughout the course of their entire relationship and beyond, to the point that it might actually have been evidence of his being replaced by an evil doppelganger when he showed up late for a meeting ...

Minimus Ambus is not on time for this evening's appointment. He confirmed earlier, so there's no way he's not coming, and Rodimus just entered so he knows he isn't lurking right outside the door to Swerve's. Surely, he'll be along.

"Hey." It's the same greeting, but there's no pretense of fabricated casualness in it. He's feeling nervous and awkward, and it's painfully obvious just in the way he squeaks out that first word. "I, uh, ordered something for you. I hope that's okay," he says, carefully pushing the drink across the table with a finger. "How's.." He trails off and gnaws on his bottom lip for a moment before settling on "Everything?"

"Yeah, that's great, thanks." Rodimus takes the drink from Drift with a grin that softens to something gentler seeing him fumble and awkward around. He starts to shift to kick his foot -- stops, pulls himself back in, upright. He straightens a little. "Good. Eager. You don't look very eager. You look like you drank something that didn't agree with you."

Minimus Ambus arrives, now: late, although not dramatically late. It's only dramatically late because it's Minimus. In direct contrast to what Rodimus did when he got here, Minimus Ambus stares around the room until he locates the pair of them and beelines for it. There is no question that he is here for any other purpose but to meet with them.

Crossing the room on short, clipped strides, like he's marching more than walking, he comes to the table and stands behind the empty chair for a moment, looking between them. He says, "Gentlemechs," and then moves the chair out so that he can sit in it.

"Well, there was a decorative ice cube in one of my earlier drinks that I didn't know I was supposed to eat-" Drift shakes his head. "But that's not really the problem, I'm just anxious about the whole Unicron thing." He takes a sip from his drink, then adds, "And this little meet-up I've put together." When Minimus arrives (late, oddly enough,) he sets his drink down and greets him with a nod and offers him the glass of energon he had set aside. "So, we're all here.."

"Hey, Minimus." Rodimus studies Minimus's stride and stance, and his manner further settles away from the show of ease. He still seems more settled than Drift, and less on edge than Minimus. But it no longer seems quite as though he's trying to make a show of that. He just -- is.

"Yeah, you and the rest of the bar." Rodimus gestures at the others, at the edge of frantic brightness that glazes expressions far more than the engex the patrons are drinking. "You'd think it was the end of the world or something." He sips his own drink and then rests it on the table, his hands folded above. He rests his chin on them, and smiles at Drift: faint, wistful. "Glad you asked, though."

"I'm looking forward to it," Minimus Ambus states with a slight lift of his chin. He clasps his hands around the energon that Drift has provided to him, his palms flat against the sides of the glass, and tips his head in a slight inclination. "The action will do us good." A beat. "Or we will all die," he adds, a hint of dryness seeping into his intonation and forcing his aspect to be slightly, slightly less rigid, "but we won't be waiting to die, at the least."

Drift glances around the bar to take in the crowd he was previously oblivious to during his nervous waiting and frowns. "I should have figured it was going to be like this considering the circumstances, but I didn't want to make this seem too formal so.. yeah." He rubs at the back of his neck and returns his gaze to the two mechs sitting at his booth. "Anyway, the reason I called you guys out here is.. uh.. well, I just wanted to say some things in case we don't make it through this. I've seen too many people die with words left unsaid, I don't want my life to end like that."

"Drift--." Rodimus interrupts to silence him, then reconsiders it, and waves for Drift to go on as he busies himself with his drink. "Okay, but I'm about as sincere as I get already, please don't expect the same." In treading the fine line between easy and asshole, he's coming down on the wrong side.

Minimus Ambus eyes Rodimus. He says, "Really?" in plain exasperation.

Just moments ago Drift was full of nerves, now he's looking annoyed and cross from the interruption. "I know this probably isn't important to you, but it is to me. All I'm asking is for you to sit there, drink, and just listen to what I have to say because by this time next week one or all of us may not be here." He tries to drain his drink with a long, drawn out sip of the straw but gives up part way through and just dumps it into his mouth before rising to his feet. "Okay, uh.." He pats around his hips as if looking for something and then begins to dig around in various body compartments. "Shit, I actually had a whole thing I was going to read.. I bet I left it at home. Damnit.."

Rodimus lifts his hands in the face of Minimus's exasperation and Drift's annoyance, one held palm out to each. "Sorry. I was just -- sorry." His expression twists, and his mood flattens out. He rests his elbow on the table, his chin on his hand, and he looks at Drift. "Well, let's face it, whatever you come up with, it's gotta be better than what I come up with when I start talking."

Minimus starts tapping his fingertips against each other in a tense tattoo, rather than holding his glass. He says, "If you wrote something down, you can always provide it to us later if you feel the need. I have always expressed myself better that way." His eyes dart between them, and then he scowls with uncommon ferocity and looks away to stare at someone who-- made the mistake of looking towards them at this moment. He glowers until this unfortunate bystander corrects this choice.

Drift's expression softerns just slightly at Rodimus' apology. "It's fine, I don't expect either of you to say anything. Like I said, I just want you two to listen." Minimus' scowl, on the other hand, has him bristling somewhat. "Uh, yeah. I can always send it to you guys later, but basically it was- Well, first there was a poem I found that I was going to read but I don't remember it off the top of my head. Then there was this whole thing about how I grew up in the gutters and how I never thought I would still be alive at this point, much less part of some epic quest to find the Knights of Cybertron..." He rubs at the base of one of his finials as he considers. "Anyway, the main point of it was that I wanted to say thank you to both of you for.. basically, everything. Minimus, it's because of you that I was able to put my past aside and become an Autobot. Twice, I may add. And Rodimus, meeting you changed the course of my life forever. You were my best friend when I needed one the most."

He offers a sheepish smile and fidgets with his hands a bit. "But most importantly, I wanted to thank both of you for showing me how to love when I didn't think I ever would again. I know our relationship ended poorly, and I know that things are super awkward and won't ever be the same again, but... I'm still glad that it happened, and if Unicron kills us all, then I want you to know that it's been an honour working with the both of you, and it was an honour to be a part of your lives."

He drops back down into his seat, looking like he just ran a hundren miles rather than give an improvised speech. "I swear, what I had written was more... better."

Rodimus reaches across the table for Drift's hand, clasping his arm: not a lace of fingers, but a clasp of his hand just past his wrist. More solidarity than flirtation. "It was still pretty good, Drift. What am I gonna do to follow that up, anyway? 'Same'?"

Minimus scrubs his hand at the back of his neck. His expression has shifted several times throughout the course of listening to Drift-- first, awkward and tense; then, wary; then, relieved; then, a softer, more nostalgic note on which it is left. He is quiet for a long moment, and he watches the two of them. He says, "Thank you, Drift. I..." He hesitates for a moment, and then he says, "I regret none of it except what caused you pain."

Drift returns Rodimus' clasp with one of his own, gripping his arm and giving it a tight squeeze. "Like I said, you don't have to say anything." He offers him a warm smile and then says, "But 'same' totally works." His smile is turned to Minimus next and he says, "me too." It's pretty much same without actually being the same. He stretches his arm out to Minimus to clasp his arm in the same fashion he and Rodimus have. "I'm really glad you're both here."

Rodimus starts to say one thing, then another, and each time he can see his foot heading into his mouth at manages to stop it. For once. He doesn't reach for Minimus, but he does kick at his fit -- gently! affectionately! -- in a tap beneath the table. "It's been a good ride. Even if we didn't quite find what we expected to find." It's all a metaphor. The metaphor itself is a metaphor.

Minimus Ambus returns the arm clasp with a slight inclination of his head. He doesn't kick Rodimus's foot under the table, though. He gives him a look, instead. "And now, the sunset?" he says. "Personally, I intend on victory."

In this moment, as Drift sits here in physical contact with two of his closest friends after saying what he just said, he fears nothing, not even Unicron. It's a good feeling. "It has been a good ride, hasn't it?" He then grins at Minimus. "Even if we're not victorious, I know we're going to leave an impression on Unicron. We're kind of a big deal."

"Nah, I'm not a sunset kind of guy. Just -- it's been a good ride. Anyway, I was being poetic," Rodimus goes on, since apparently he has to spell it out for Minimus, "and I meant this--." He breaks off, ticks a finger between the three of them. "That was good, too. We're totally gonna kick Unicron's aft back out through his mouth, though."

"I see," Minimus says with a private little note of blended humor and exasperation in his voice. He leans back again, withdrawing his hands, and frames the plain energon in his grasp once more. "I don't think that is physically possible. But, since you are being poetic..."

"Oh my god..." Drift looks horrified as he imagines having your ass kicked through your own mouth. What a way to go! He shakes his head to rid himself of that mental image and lifts his glass up for a toast. It's empty, but it's the thought that counts, right? "To kicking Unicron's ass through his mouth!"

Rodimus lifts his glass to toast, but pulls it back as he notes the emptiness of Drift's glass. "No, wait, come here: that's bad luck." He pours a sip of his own terrible, terrible drink into Drift's glass: some cheap spirits to ward off bad spirits. Then he says, "Okay. Ass through his mouth." He holds his glass up for a tink, regarding Minimus expectantly. "Come on, Minimus. There's poetry in it."

Minimus sighs. He picks up the glass, and reachces over to tink with each of theirs. He says in this low, beleaguered voice like an eeyore, "To the poetry in it."

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