WHO: OPEN LOG
WHERE: The Park
WHEN: Monday afternoon.
WARNINGS: ... hideousness.
SUMMARY: Starscream thinks tribbles are delicious. This is what entices him to learn to cook. Thus, he brings a grill to the park and a cooler full of tribbles. Possibly, the ES21 crew will show up later for tribble football.
... I'm hideous.
FORMAT: Whatever you
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Comments 10
Originally it was due to the fact that they reminded him of those hateful little mice, true. But an accident had led to the discovery that the little meat that existed on them happened to be delicious, and he hadn't looked back since. Even better than pigeons, this.
Slagar followed one through a line of bushes, throwing dagger in one hand and his bolas in the other--and popped out at the very edge of the open spot by the pond.
Hm. He'd seen that one before.
Ignoring the Tribble for the moment, Slagar put away the weaponry-turned-utensils and slowly trotted over to Starscream.
"You're a fair hand at that, eh?" he called out, curious.
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On the other hand, he seemed somewhat familiar. Starscream was sure he'd seen the guy around on the comms.
"No, actually," he admitted. And it was true - he'd screwed up the first tribble, ruining the fur, though he was doing slightly better at the second. "I'm not a particularly good cook, I'm afraid."
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This was the time for sweet little lies, though--prying and testing and being so gracious to others. And so he would be, for the moment. Even if the Decepticon hadn't seen him before, he likely would have recognized the distinctive, raspy voice.
The one that was currently attempting to work its powers on the ex-robot.
"Why don't you let me show you how it's done?" he offered innocently, the twisted and frozen smile on his face hidden behind the silk mask. "Call it... a favor from a friend."
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But somewhere in the back of his mind, Waspinator's memories buzz and accept that he's not always the best at what he does with a sigh; and Shockwave's tell him that it is only logical to occasionally accept help.
That, and he tries not to be a complete jerk in public.
"... fine," he says. "Show me."
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Oh well. He'd at least finish them up.
"Yes, I did," he said, putting on a smile. "And slag no. I make good on my threats~"
"I think I have about..." he poked around in the box. "Twenty. And they've been fed, so it'll be forty soon. They breed fast. You don't even have to get more, we'll probably just be able to feed them on garbage and they'll keep going. Really... it makes me wonder. Why consider them such pests? They could single-handedly solve the world food crisis if applied correctly."
An unlimited source of energy. The Decepticons would know how to use such a thing. Humans were so... wasteful. Hamburger buns and spices would be wonderful... I am NOT a fan of ketchup."
Starscream was most definitively a hot sauce, mustard, and mayonnaise 'con. Oh yes.
"Raw and rare, I'm afraid my digestive system is not properly calibrated for that; and... right."
Clown. Right. Starscream was very, very tempted to ( ... )
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"They sure could. I bet all those poor starvin' homeless would've ripped into 'em by now, if they could stand the purring or whatever noise they make. Apparently they make that noise and then no one wants to hurt them~" It really was a good thing he wasn't human. Violator would have hated to not be able to hurt something, just because of some noise it happened to make. "Tricky little fur balls ( ... )
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