Robots Don't Cry [CLOSED]
WHO: Starscream and Isaac
WHAT: Isaac puts himself to the test as an engineer. His job is already difficult, this is his first time trying to fix a Cybertronian.
WHERE: The Hollow
WHEN: Sunday night, before the club opens.
WARNINGS/NOTES: Probably just Isaac's mouth.
Starscream had dragged himself home wearily from the hospital. They'd done a fair patch job. They weren't able to replace the optic that Dirge took. He'd be angry but he has too much to do to even think about vengeance. Open the club, being the most pertinent of events. And here Isaac was, demanding to "fix" him.
The Seeker sat down at his desk, briefly resting his face in his servos.
He'd have to turn around and be full of vitriol and dark humor tonight. It's what is expected. He hasn't been at this very long, and already he wants everything to simply.
Stop.
Give him a few cycles to catch up.
Everything still hurts. His missing optic and the hunk of wing that Dirge has twisted off. They deemed it "cosmetic damage". Not vital to his flight, and thus they had sent him home with it in a box. Just like they had failed to work out the claw marks that covered him.
"I can't do this." Because he is truly, utterly alone, he takes comfort in voicing it. Even if he knows he'll have to.
WHAT: Isaac puts himself to the test as an engineer. His job is already difficult, this is his first time trying to fix a Cybertronian.
WHERE: The Hollow
WHEN: Sunday night, before the club opens.
WARNINGS/NOTES: Probably just Isaac's mouth.
Starscream had dragged himself home wearily from the hospital. They'd done a fair patch job. They weren't able to replace the optic that Dirge took. He'd be angry but he has too much to do to even think about vengeance. Open the club, being the most pertinent of events. And here Isaac was, demanding to "fix" him.
The Seeker sat down at his desk, briefly resting his face in his servos.
He'd have to turn around and be full of vitriol and dark humor tonight. It's what is expected. He hasn't been at this very long, and already he wants everything to simply.
Stop.
Give him a few cycles to catch up.
Everything still hurts. His missing optic and the hunk of wing that Dirge has twisted off. They deemed it "cosmetic damage". Not vital to his flight, and thus they had sent him home with it in a box. Just like they had failed to work out the claw marks that covered him.
"I can't do this." Because he is truly, utterly alone, he takes comfort in voicing it. Even if he knows he'll have to.