rock N roll [OPEN] - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yIdKCMDTmCk
WHO: Soundwae & YOU.
WHAT: Soundwave is working down at the dance club. What are you doing?
WHERE: A little club called End of Line in Seattle.
WHEN: Pick any evening of the week! Starts Tuesday evening.
WARNINGS: None at the moment.
NOTES: REFERENCES. REFERENCES EVERYWHERE. Don't let it intimidate you.
For him, it is quite possibly the easiest job he has ever attained. Naturally, it is simple, as it just has him utilize his sound powers. He didn't have to push himself much. It was simply a matter of using increased bass at the appropriate time. Crescendo at the increase, legato to smooth it out.
The job comes with a variety of things. To perform his own music, which comes with ease -- a one-man band, more or less. He didn't need the electrical equipment to play.
Other times, it calls for being a DJ, or at least when it fancies the owners to think he's any good at it. Suffice it to say, he does quietly acknowledge that things worked out. The owners are a bit more to his taste, after all.
Still--
Soundwave sits at one of the booths, a little out of breath. His recovery has been decent since he arrived in Seattle, but he's still not physically back to his preferred status. Still weaker than preferred. Still painful to fragging exist.
He orders a glass of water, then goes poking into his pockets for the painkillers McNinja gave him last.
Usually, Bangalter and Christo are quiet, their helmets conveying their messages mostly. Their approach is noticed by Soundwave, noting their presence with his sensitive hearing.
WONDERFUL! is showing on Bangalter's helmet, ♪ on the other.
The Decepticon glances up, trying very hard to not make it look like he's scowling.
...SCARY... slides across the helmet now.
"My apologies," Soundwave mutters, changing his voice to sound smoother, more welcoming than his actual robotic monotone. "But I am fine."
OKAY! A little too friendly for his liking, and it reminds him very much of Skyfire whenever Bangalter ruffles his hair.
Soundwave sinks in his seat once the pair are gone, curling up in the booth as he waits for the painkillers to take effect. For now, he's not budging.
WHAT: Soundwave is working down at the dance club. What are you doing?
WHERE: A little club called End of Line in Seattle.
WHEN: Pick any evening of the week! Starts Tuesday evening.
WARNINGS: None at the moment.
NOTES: REFERENCES. REFERENCES EVERYWHERE. Don't let it intimidate you.
For him, it is quite possibly the easiest job he has ever attained. Naturally, it is simple, as it just has him utilize his sound powers. He didn't have to push himself much. It was simply a matter of using increased bass at the appropriate time. Crescendo at the increase, legato to smooth it out.
The job comes with a variety of things. To perform his own music, which comes with ease -- a one-man band, more or less. He didn't need the electrical equipment to play.
Other times, it calls for being a DJ, or at least when it fancies the owners to think he's any good at it. Suffice it to say, he does quietly acknowledge that things worked out. The owners are a bit more to his taste, after all.
Still--
Soundwave sits at one of the booths, a little out of breath. His recovery has been decent since he arrived in Seattle, but he's still not physically back to his preferred status. Still weaker than preferred. Still painful to fragging exist.
He orders a glass of water, then goes poking into his pockets for the painkillers McNinja gave him last.
Usually, Bangalter and Christo are quiet, their helmets conveying their messages mostly. Their approach is noticed by Soundwave, noting their presence with his sensitive hearing.
WONDERFUL! is showing on Bangalter's helmet, ♪ on the other.
The Decepticon glances up, trying very hard to not make it look like he's scowling.
...SCARY... slides across the helmet now.
"My apologies," Soundwave mutters, changing his voice to sound smoother, more welcoming than his actual robotic monotone. "But I am fine."
OKAY! A little too friendly for his liking, and it reminds him very much of Skyfire whenever Bangalter ruffles his hair.
Soundwave sinks in his seat once the pair are gone, curling up in the booth as he waits for the painkillers to take effect. For now, he's not budging.