(no subject)
Somewhere out there, just at the edge of the most delicately tuned sensors' perception, there are signals being traded that Ironhide can't quite read. Some of them are Autobot signals, he's sure of that. Some of them are Decepticon ones, of that he's even more sure. The fact is that he can't read any of them. It's like spending a week with someone whispering in your ear just loudly enough to hear, but not to understand; it makes him cranky.
Granted, everything makes him cranky. But this is extra cranky. And that's why there's an Autobot weapons master out behind the Bar, out past the firing range, piling a veritable pyramid of boulders and large stones in the center of a blast crater. Best thing you can do for a bad mood is take it out on someone who deserves it, but when you can't find someone deserving, you should at least practice it away.
[tinytag: Fiona Glennane]
Granted, everything makes him cranky. But this is extra cranky. And that's why there's an Autobot weapons master out behind the Bar, out past the firing range, piling a veritable pyramid of boulders and large stones in the center of a blast crater. Best thing you can do for a bad mood is take it out on someone who deserves it, but when you can't find someone deserving, you should at least practice it away.
[tinytag: Fiona Glennane]