[RP Log] "I love you" doesn't mean you get another drink.
Set after Bonecrusher left Tracks' room the other night.
Raoul: Raoul slipped into Tracks's room and made his way over to the mech seated in the corner. He'd just come back from having another go at teaching Cliffjumper card games - for someone with a computer for a brain, he wasn't too good at calculating the odds.
"Hey, Tracks."
Tracks: Tracks looked up from the cube he seemed to be hanging over, and then down past the edge of the table to the human on the floor, blinking slowly. "...Raoul?" He seemed a little slow - like maybe he was tired, or just relaxed, but that wouldn't have accounted for the slight slur to his voice, would it? "...You came back."
Raoul: Raoul slowed his steps at the sound of Tracks's voice. Something was off with him. He walked the rest of the way to the mech's feet anyway.
"Well, yeah. I'm not going to sleep in the hall am I?" he smiled up at Tracks and gave him a pat on the leg.
Tracks: The Corvette smiled beatifically and shifted carefully where he sat to look down at his guest more easily. "Not at all. I'd like you to be comfortable," he said carefully, with a nod for additional emphasis. "Would you like to come up here?" Tracks patted the table to show what he meant, still smiling, oddly vacuously.
Raoul: Well, the smiling was more like the Tracks he knew, but the stare wasn't quite right either. Raoul wondered if he was missing something.
"Wouldn't mind being closer to eye-level I suppose," he said, giving the mech another smile. He stepped back and waited for Tracks to lower a hand, used to being picked off his feet by now.
Tracks: Instead of a nicely lowered hand to climb onto, it came from behind and swept Raoul up to the table, releasing him a foot or two above its surface. "My best angles aren't from that low anyway," he said, pleased for all of a moment before his expression fell. Chagrined, he nudged aside a translucent cube of energon sitting half full on the table to give Raoul more room. "I apologize, that was very rude. Very."
Raoul: Surprised by the change in routine Raoul lost his footing as Tracks dropped him, landing on the table with a soft 'oof!.' He drew himself up into a sitting position, casting a disapproving glance at the mech.
"Yeah, careful with the height drops there. Might not look like much to you but my ass can sure tell the difference." Raoul eyed the cube he'd pushed away for a moment, then looked back to Tracks. Slurring, a little slower than usual?
"Tracks. Are you plastered?"
Tracks: "I'm sorry. You're just very sm-- ah?" Tracks appeared to give the question quite a bit of consideration despite its simplicity, before making an attempt to answer. "Not since you fixes all my scratches!" He was beaming again, favoring Raoul with a warm, doting sort of look, coupled with a sudden resting of his chin in his palm, elbow resting on the table. "You did a very good job with that, by the way. I look amazing. Thank you."
Raoul: Raoul ran a hand through his hair and sighed. Yep. He was dealing with a buzzed car.
"No, Tracks, it's a human expression. I was asking if you're drunk." He waved a hand at Tracks's paintjob. "And it's nothing. You're welcome," he mumbled absently. Drunk buddies he could handle, but what did you do if a robot passed out on you?
Tracks: "Drunk. No, no no." He shook his head slowly, frowning. "Not drunk. I just was... thinking." Tracks looked at Raoul consideringly, though unfocused as he was he might as well have been staring at the wall.
Raoul: Raoul stood, crossing his arms over his chest, thoroughly unimpressed. He'd seen that look and heard that line a hundred times before.
"Yes you are, Tracks. Smashed, even." He shook his head, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, and walked over to a hand, sitting down on top of it.
Tracks: "I don't like being smashed," Tracks protested, noticeably stilling as Raoul sat down on his other hand, as though by moving at all he would cause sudden, irreparable damage to the human. "And I'm not drunk. I'm just a little -very tiny- bit overcharged, I think, because I was thinking a lot. For a long time. And I forgot... something." He frowned a little, trying to follow his own words to where he'd been headed in the first place and then giving up. "But I'm not drunk. I only had two-- four?-- cubes!"
Raoul: Raoul laughed softly and gave him a comforting pat on the hand.
"It's another human expression. Not literally. And yes, you /are/ drunk." Raoul shot another glance at the empty cubes. "People don't get that way just by thinking, either. Those cubes look pretty big to me, even for someone your size."
Tracks: "They're normal sized," Tracks said, looking at the empty cubes forlornly. "S'just more than I usually have. And I was thinking." He paused and peered at the half-full cube a moment, then glanced at Raoul, but the cube was too awkward to lift one-handed. Tracks vented air in a sorrowful gust and shook his head. "It was very important, too."
Raoul: Raoul grinned. Tracks was as stubborn as ever, even after he'd had too much to drink.
"I didn't say you weren't thinking. I said thinking doesn't get people /drunk,/" he said, and leaned back, resting his weight on his elbows. "What important thing were you thinking about?"
Tracks: "You." Tracks looked positively mournful. "You were what I was thinking about. And- and I didn't know if you'd come back from Cliffjumper's. And I thought you might get taken again. And then die. It would be all my fault. Because I didn't have you buy red paint."
Raoul: Raoul sat back up and shifted closer, worried at Tracks's expression. Sad just didn't look right on him. "Hey, you don't have to worry about me. I was fine last time, wasn't I?" Raoul said gently, and gave the mech's hand a pat. "... wait, red paint? What does that have to do with anything? You lost me there."
Tracks: "It's a good color - eye-catching," Tracks said, distractedly. "I like blue, but red..." He looked back at Raoul once more, earnestly sad as only the very drunk can be. "I'd still be pretty, if I was red. Pretti-er, even."
Raoul: Raoul blinked. He wasn't sure if this was something that was actually bothering Tracks - the kind of thing he wouldn't bring up unless he was intoxicated - or just drunken rambling. He guessed the latter, but then again this /was/ a giant robot. Maybe paintjobs really did matter that much to them. "Uh. They're both nice colours. Why the sudden interest in switching your paintjob?"
Tracks: Tracks looked pained for a very long moment, and then he looked down, maybe a little sheepish. "...Cliffjumper is red."
Raoul: The corners of Raoul's mouth twitched as he held back his amusement. It wasn't nice to laugh at drunks. "Tracks, I'm having trouble imagining you being jealous of Cliffjumper. No offense to him or anything."
Tracks: "You were there all evening, and... and I was stupid, and if I were red you might have been here." He seemed very sure of that suddenly, as if his topcoat were really the largest of his problems currently.
Raoul: Raoul sighed. Definitely drunken rambling, then. "Tracks, you're talking like I've been ignoring you or something. Hanging out with you is great but I can't be here 24/7, I'd go nuts being stuck in the same room all day. It's got nothing to do with your paint, okay?" he said, then thought to add a compliment - the mech always seemed to appreciate those. Maybe it'd help cheer him up. "Blue's nice, I like it. You look good in it."
Tracks: He sagged a little more, knowing even while drunk that it was silly and groundless, but it felt good to hear. "I know. You... You've been here for a while now. I just--" Tracks vented air, turning his face against his free hand in frustration, his voice slightly muffled for it. "I need a drink."
Raoul: Raoul stood up to get the mech's attention, crossing his arms over his chest. Time to play the buzzkiller, before Tracks ended up completely smashed. You couldn't really take the keys away when the person you were dealing with /was/ the car. "Oh no you don't. If you're having trouble thinking straight now, the /last/ thing you need is more robot booze. Either sit and we can keep talking or go sleep. No more drinking today, got it?"
Tracks: Tracks' optics widened as he snuck a peek at Raoul through his fingers. "...You're cutting me off?" He sounded somewhat confused, maybe a little awed, and then his expression crumpled in a very human-like expression of utter relief. "See-- see, that's why I like you so much. I mean, you're so nice to me, you care. And. And you don't think I'm useless. And you don't throw things at my head. And... and I love you. Really."
Raoul: Raoul smiled up at him. Ah, the inevitable drunken 'I love you, man.' "Of course you do. Me too, buddy. I'm still not letting you have any more to drink, though," he said playfully, then took a seat on Tracks's hand once more.
Tracks: Tracks' smile widened in return and he moved to pillow his head on his free arm so that he could still look at Raoul, despite the fact that his head seemed to weigh a lot more than it had not long ago. "Okay. I mean -- I don't drink all that often, see, so m'kinna easy to get drunk. Maybe. Kind of," he said confidingly. "But I did mean it. You're my friend, Raoul. I don' want to make you go away."
Raoul: Raoul drew his knees up, propped his elbow up on one, and rested his chin in his palm, still grinning at the mech. "I know. We're pals and I'm not going anywhere, okay? Even if you're a lightweight."
Tracks: "M'not," Tracks pouted. "And... you won't go, even if I'm an idiot? Or-- or if I freak you out?"
Raoul: Raoul nodded, and laid his free hand on top of Track's much larger one. "Promise. As long as you don't try to squish me, we're cool."
Tracks: Tracks beamed a bit, satisfied and edging towards tired as well as drunken babbling. "I won't. I wouldn't, ever. I like being your car, even if that's all I am. S'a good partnership, where I'm the car and you drive me places, and I can fly you sometimes."
Raoul: "Hey, you know you're my buddy, not just my car," Raoul said, and gave Tracks a light thwack. He looked the mech over for a minute, then stood once again. "You sound tired, and I can't see this table being a comfy place to sleep. Come on, up, you."
Tracks: He blinked at the human and lifted his head, bemused. "But I'm okay... Where am I going?"
Raoul: Raoul shook his head, smile still on his lips. "You are either going to lie down on that berth over there, or you are going to turn into a car and sleep like that. Never did tell me which was more comfortable." He leaned down and gave the mech's arm a light push.
Tracks: "Car. Because then you stay there too," Tracks said easily, pushing away from the table to stand, carefully, though it was more difficult than he'd figured it would be; maybe he was drunk, just a little. "Are you going to?"
Raoul: Raoul laughed. "Don't want to be alone, huh? Alright, sure. Backseat's pretty comfy. Help me down. /Carefully,/ this time."
Tracks: "Always," Tracks said, vaguely offended as he offered a hand for Raoul this time, helping him to the floor in slow stages of leaning - using the table for balance as well. "Wouldn't drop you - I think you'd break."
Raoul: "Hey, I trust you. It wasn't a comment on your abilities, just a little reminder," he said, and hopped to the ground. Raoul backed away a few steps, giving Tracks room to transform.
Tracks: Tracks smiled again at the reassurance and transformed, maybe a little more jerkily than he would sober, but he ended at the same place - newly washed, spotlessly shiny and with one door swinging open invitingly.
Raoul: Raoul smiled, patting the door as he climbed in and laid down on the back seats, shifting until he found a comfortable position. "Sleep well, Tracks."
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Raoul: Raoul slipped into Tracks's room and made his way over to the mech seated in the corner. He'd just come back from having another go at teaching Cliffjumper card games - for someone with a computer for a brain, he wasn't too good at calculating the odds.
"Hey, Tracks."
Tracks: Tracks looked up from the cube he seemed to be hanging over, and then down past the edge of the table to the human on the floor, blinking slowly. "...Raoul?" He seemed a little slow - like maybe he was tired, or just relaxed, but that wouldn't have accounted for the slight slur to his voice, would it? "...You came back."
Raoul: Raoul slowed his steps at the sound of Tracks's voice. Something was off with him. He walked the rest of the way to the mech's feet anyway.
"Well, yeah. I'm not going to sleep in the hall am I?" he smiled up at Tracks and gave him a pat on the leg.
Tracks: The Corvette smiled beatifically and shifted carefully where he sat to look down at his guest more easily. "Not at all. I'd like you to be comfortable," he said carefully, with a nod for additional emphasis. "Would you like to come up here?" Tracks patted the table to show what he meant, still smiling, oddly vacuously.
Raoul: Well, the smiling was more like the Tracks he knew, but the stare wasn't quite right either. Raoul wondered if he was missing something.
"Wouldn't mind being closer to eye-level I suppose," he said, giving the mech another smile. He stepped back and waited for Tracks to lower a hand, used to being picked off his feet by now.
Tracks: Instead of a nicely lowered hand to climb onto, it came from behind and swept Raoul up to the table, releasing him a foot or two above its surface. "My best angles aren't from that low anyway," he said, pleased for all of a moment before his expression fell. Chagrined, he nudged aside a translucent cube of energon sitting half full on the table to give Raoul more room. "I apologize, that was very rude. Very."
Raoul: Surprised by the change in routine Raoul lost his footing as Tracks dropped him, landing on the table with a soft 'oof!.' He drew himself up into a sitting position, casting a disapproving glance at the mech.
"Yeah, careful with the height drops there. Might not look like much to you but my ass can sure tell the difference." Raoul eyed the cube he'd pushed away for a moment, then looked back to Tracks. Slurring, a little slower than usual?
"Tracks. Are you plastered?"
Tracks: "I'm sorry. You're just very sm-- ah?" Tracks appeared to give the question quite a bit of consideration despite its simplicity, before making an attempt to answer. "Not since you fixes all my scratches!" He was beaming again, favoring Raoul with a warm, doting sort of look, coupled with a sudden resting of his chin in his palm, elbow resting on the table. "You did a very good job with that, by the way. I look amazing. Thank you."
Raoul: Raoul ran a hand through his hair and sighed. Yep. He was dealing with a buzzed car.
"No, Tracks, it's a human expression. I was asking if you're drunk." He waved a hand at Tracks's paintjob. "And it's nothing. You're welcome," he mumbled absently. Drunk buddies he could handle, but what did you do if a robot passed out on you?
Tracks: "Drunk. No, no no." He shook his head slowly, frowning. "Not drunk. I just was... thinking." Tracks looked at Raoul consideringly, though unfocused as he was he might as well have been staring at the wall.
Raoul: Raoul stood, crossing his arms over his chest, thoroughly unimpressed. He'd seen that look and heard that line a hundred times before.
"Yes you are, Tracks. Smashed, even." He shook his head, smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, and walked over to a hand, sitting down on top of it.
Tracks: "I don't like being smashed," Tracks protested, noticeably stilling as Raoul sat down on his other hand, as though by moving at all he would cause sudden, irreparable damage to the human. "And I'm not drunk. I'm just a little -very tiny- bit overcharged, I think, because I was thinking a lot. For a long time. And I forgot... something." He frowned a little, trying to follow his own words to where he'd been headed in the first place and then giving up. "But I'm not drunk. I only had two-- four?-- cubes!"
Raoul: Raoul laughed softly and gave him a comforting pat on the hand.
"It's another human expression. Not literally. And yes, you /are/ drunk." Raoul shot another glance at the empty cubes. "People don't get that way just by thinking, either. Those cubes look pretty big to me, even for someone your size."
Tracks: "They're normal sized," Tracks said, looking at the empty cubes forlornly. "S'just more than I usually have. And I was thinking." He paused and peered at the half-full cube a moment, then glanced at Raoul, but the cube was too awkward to lift one-handed. Tracks vented air in a sorrowful gust and shook his head. "It was very important, too."
Raoul: Raoul grinned. Tracks was as stubborn as ever, even after he'd had too much to drink.
"I didn't say you weren't thinking. I said thinking doesn't get people /drunk,/" he said, and leaned back, resting his weight on his elbows. "What important thing were you thinking about?"
Tracks: "You." Tracks looked positively mournful. "You were what I was thinking about. And- and I didn't know if you'd come back from Cliffjumper's. And I thought you might get taken again. And then die. It would be all my fault. Because I didn't have you buy red paint."
Raoul: Raoul sat back up and shifted closer, worried at Tracks's expression. Sad just didn't look right on him. "Hey, you don't have to worry about me. I was fine last time, wasn't I?" Raoul said gently, and gave the mech's hand a pat. "... wait, red paint? What does that have to do with anything? You lost me there."
Tracks: "It's a good color - eye-catching," Tracks said, distractedly. "I like blue, but red..." He looked back at Raoul once more, earnestly sad as only the very drunk can be. "I'd still be pretty, if I was red. Pretti-er, even."
Raoul: Raoul blinked. He wasn't sure if this was something that was actually bothering Tracks - the kind of thing he wouldn't bring up unless he was intoxicated - or just drunken rambling. He guessed the latter, but then again this /was/ a giant robot. Maybe paintjobs really did matter that much to them. "Uh. They're both nice colours. Why the sudden interest in switching your paintjob?"
Tracks: Tracks looked pained for a very long moment, and then he looked down, maybe a little sheepish. "...Cliffjumper is red."
Raoul: The corners of Raoul's mouth twitched as he held back his amusement. It wasn't nice to laugh at drunks. "Tracks, I'm having trouble imagining you being jealous of Cliffjumper. No offense to him or anything."
Tracks: "You were there all evening, and... and I was stupid, and if I were red you might have been here." He seemed very sure of that suddenly, as if his topcoat were really the largest of his problems currently.
Raoul: Raoul sighed. Definitely drunken rambling, then. "Tracks, you're talking like I've been ignoring you or something. Hanging out with you is great but I can't be here 24/7, I'd go nuts being stuck in the same room all day. It's got nothing to do with your paint, okay?" he said, then thought to add a compliment - the mech always seemed to appreciate those. Maybe it'd help cheer him up. "Blue's nice, I like it. You look good in it."
Tracks: He sagged a little more, knowing even while drunk that it was silly and groundless, but it felt good to hear. "I know. You... You've been here for a while now. I just--" Tracks vented air, turning his face against his free hand in frustration, his voice slightly muffled for it. "I need a drink."
Raoul: Raoul stood up to get the mech's attention, crossing his arms over his chest. Time to play the buzzkiller, before Tracks ended up completely smashed. You couldn't really take the keys away when the person you were dealing with /was/ the car. "Oh no you don't. If you're having trouble thinking straight now, the /last/ thing you need is more robot booze. Either sit and we can keep talking or go sleep. No more drinking today, got it?"
Tracks: Tracks' optics widened as he snuck a peek at Raoul through his fingers. "...You're cutting me off?" He sounded somewhat confused, maybe a little awed, and then his expression crumpled in a very human-like expression of utter relief. "See-- see, that's why I like you so much. I mean, you're so nice to me, you care. And. And you don't think I'm useless. And you don't throw things at my head. And... and I love you. Really."
Raoul: Raoul smiled up at him. Ah, the inevitable drunken 'I love you, man.' "Of course you do. Me too, buddy. I'm still not letting you have any more to drink, though," he said playfully, then took a seat on Tracks's hand once more.
Tracks: Tracks' smile widened in return and he moved to pillow his head on his free arm so that he could still look at Raoul, despite the fact that his head seemed to weigh a lot more than it had not long ago. "Okay. I mean -- I don't drink all that often, see, so m'kinna easy to get drunk. Maybe. Kind of," he said confidingly. "But I did mean it. You're my friend, Raoul. I don' want to make you go away."
Raoul: Raoul drew his knees up, propped his elbow up on one, and rested his chin in his palm, still grinning at the mech. "I know. We're pals and I'm not going anywhere, okay? Even if you're a lightweight."
Tracks: "M'not," Tracks pouted. "And... you won't go, even if I'm an idiot? Or-- or if I freak you out?"
Raoul: Raoul nodded, and laid his free hand on top of Track's much larger one. "Promise. As long as you don't try to squish me, we're cool."
Tracks: Tracks beamed a bit, satisfied and edging towards tired as well as drunken babbling. "I won't. I wouldn't, ever. I like being your car, even if that's all I am. S'a good partnership, where I'm the car and you drive me places, and I can fly you sometimes."
Raoul: "Hey, you know you're my buddy, not just my car," Raoul said, and gave Tracks a light thwack. He looked the mech over for a minute, then stood once again. "You sound tired, and I can't see this table being a comfy place to sleep. Come on, up, you."
Tracks: He blinked at the human and lifted his head, bemused. "But I'm okay... Where am I going?"
Raoul: Raoul shook his head, smile still on his lips. "You are either going to lie down on that berth over there, or you are going to turn into a car and sleep like that. Never did tell me which was more comfortable." He leaned down and gave the mech's arm a light push.
Tracks: "Car. Because then you stay there too," Tracks said easily, pushing away from the table to stand, carefully, though it was more difficult than he'd figured it would be; maybe he was drunk, just a little. "Are you going to?"
Raoul: Raoul laughed. "Don't want to be alone, huh? Alright, sure. Backseat's pretty comfy. Help me down. /Carefully,/ this time."
Tracks: "Always," Tracks said, vaguely offended as he offered a hand for Raoul this time, helping him to the floor in slow stages of leaning - using the table for balance as well. "Wouldn't drop you - I think you'd break."
Raoul: "Hey, I trust you. It wasn't a comment on your abilities, just a little reminder," he said, and hopped to the ground. Raoul backed away a few steps, giving Tracks room to transform.
Tracks: Tracks smiled again at the reassurance and transformed, maybe a little more jerkily than he would sober, but he ended at the same place - newly washed, spotlessly shiny and with one door swinging open invitingly.
Raoul: Raoul smiled, patting the door as he climbed in and laid down on the back seats, shifting until he found a comfortable position. "Sleep well, Tracks."
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