WHO: Ironhide and Open
WHAT: Venting frustrations. Or at least trying to.
WHERE: Roaming between Zones 7 and 9, and the Fighting Rings
WHEN: After all the deportations happened
WARNINGS/NOTES: None for now. Tag yourself in, and let it be known where your character is. And seperate threads, please!
(
I'm Tired of Pacing )
He and survival have never been on the best of speaking terms, and one of his lesser-known skills was a certain amount of tracking ability. Not that he actually had to use his nose that much, since the Autobot was leaving a not-inconsiderable trail behind him.
The cassette wasn't about to try and sneak up on a high-strung warrior, and so he made no secret about eeling his way through the crowded streets in order to catch up.
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But when he did, he stopped, optic narrowing. His frame went tense.
Not again...
"I have no desire to so much as look at you," he growled, not even bothering to glance behind him. "Leave me alone."
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A few more strides before he spoke again. "I am always 'cranky'."
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He shouldered through a knot of citizens, barely taking notice of them.
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