There's the roar of an engine coming from somewhere near the forest. It's a deep, throaty sound and soon accompanied by the squeal of tyres though at first, there's nothing to be seen.
Until there is.
Out of nowhere, a car appears. It's big and bronze and makes a hell of a racket. But possibly not as much of one as Gene.
'...bloody 'ell is goin' on!'
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Her fingers make a suctioning sound as they retract from the dashboard. Her head is spinning a bit from the inertia of the rough and tumble stop, but not so much to turn her green around the gills. It's more of a pleasant turquoise, really.
"Nice t'see you back to your senses, Gene."
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'Yeah, well.'
A sniff.
'Told you I didn' remember when I left 'ere, didn't I?'
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Her words are dry and teasing.
"There's a garage, underneath the bar. Haven't never been down there myself, but I think your precious automobile should be safe enough."
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A fag is clearly called for.
'Even showed you th' sights; don' say I don' do anythin' for ya.'
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(Bar has been playing silly buggers with the subspace compression field lately, possibly because none of the Cybertronians were in the Bar at Halloween. Ironhide is his full and proper size, not a compressed miniature truck.)
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Unfair!
He frowns and sticks his head out of the window to size it up better.
'Bet that thing handles like a tank,' he mutters to Kate, sounding a tad petulant.
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Although he might roll forward a smidge to get a good scan in before commenting in a low and rumbling voice, "Nice wheels."
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"What's a tank?"
The question barely has enough time to leave her mouth before the rumbling voice hits her ears.
"Gene. Please tell me the truck just spoke."
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Sameth hears the noise in the forge and comes out before backing up against the wall, "Charter!"
Its said with a mix of awe and fear, that's quite a car.
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"Land!"
She's this close to kissing the earth.
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The voice sounds pretty amused and its owner appears a moment later, hauling out of the drivers side and scrutinising the young man.
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When Kate falls out, he walks over to see if she needs help, "Are you hurt?"
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"WHAT THE BLOODY FUCKING HELL!" he yells, getting up and squelching over towards the car to find out which delinquants just ruined his clothes.
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(And surprise. She's never heard Guppy shout like that before.)
"Guppy!"
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'You need some soap f'that gob, mate?'
Swearing like that in front of ladies = no.
'Blimey. What did you wanna stand there, for?'
Twat.
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"I was just standing there, minding my own business." he says, curbing his language now.
But, more to the point in his opinion, nearly running people over = no.
"What the hell are you doing driving around a public garden like that?! You could have killed someone! What if any of the bar's kids had been playing out here? And a couple of feet further, or a bit wetter grass, and you could have taken both yourself and Kate out and half a dozen people inside and all."
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'If you'd tol' me that was standin' there, I could've hit th' bastard.'
It's all her fault.
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She's still eying the car for signs of blood.
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