"I'm not stopping anyone from coming." Ironhide regains his feet with his usual creaking, then turns to head back, snagging the additive packets along the way.
Nightscream follows the noise. "Yeah, but you're not waiting for Cliffjumper and the Killjoys to get back either, are you?" He's pretty sure he's caught something illicit in progress, and he's curious about what.
"You mean too easy to lose." Nightscream doesn't look where he's going, instead keeping his gaze on the bigger mech as he trots along in tow.
The Sea Team 'cons have made some progress on their cubes despite the fight, though when Ironhide and Nightscream return they're just talking and sniggering.
"...But if the bird hadn't run to whatsistail- Prowl - we'd have been sitting pretty, am I right?" Stormcloud points out merrily to his team-mate.
"I suppose I do," says Ironhide indifferently, dropping the packets on the table and then mixing up a fizzy cube, which he pushes toward Nightscream. "That will take the glue out of your works."
He glances at the two brothers, then settles down on the floor again and starts mixing himself something else that contains both blue and green energon, as well as several kinds of additives.
"Yeah?" Nightscream leans back and studies Ironhide curiously - then relaxes and gives a whistle that's hoarse with static, but friendly. "Thanks, old guy." He hops up on the table and commences drinking.
Got him pegged? Oh yes, Nightscream thinks he does. But he's more likely to be right about Ironhide than either of the other Minicons in the room.
In the middle of agreeing heartily with Sotmcloud's assessment, Waterlog shoots the black car-bot a contemptuous leer. It's as much for the whistle as the thanks. Only one member of their team ever uses their native language, and he's not here.
"You'll need to put some on your vocalizer." Ironhide leans back as a minor explosion rocks his cube, then continues measuring and mixing. He sort of wishes he had a little petroleum jelly to garnish this with, but he'll just have to make due with what he's got. No one here cares what the drinks look like anyway.
Nightscream hears, but doesn't stop guzzling just yet. Tearing potholes in the local streets takes energy out of a guy. That, and Ironhide's drink is good and noisy and he almost wishes he had one. He gives a thumbs-up gesture, thinking that this is better than when he left. He couldn't stay in this place when it was empty.
"Hey, kid," Stormcloud says, fixing on the squirt now he's staying still, "you think you can take that stuff?"
((Hee, he's playing sweet for now and claiming emotionless!Ironhide is suspiciously like his Airazor <.< ))
There's a flash of light as Ironhide adds the last ingredient, and then he picks up the now sulfur yellow and black cube and has a sip. It's got the same kick he remembers from back when he'd first invented the mix; the same acid undertones beneath the deceptive sweetness; the same straightforward strength that'll leave you laying on your roof in the morning if you push it too far.
He lifts it silently in emotionless tribute to the lady it was named for, then sips his Chromia again.
Nightscream keeps an eye on the Autobot's doings from the corner of his visor, the rest of his sensors focused on studying the Sea-con. "Of course," he says, in a voice that's one slip away from 'DUH'. "I know what I'm doing, jackaft, don't worry about me."
"I'll believe it when you don't purge your precious engine all over the floor, greenkeel."
"Aye," agrees Waterlog. "'Tis an easy thing to spout talk and never put your metal to the test."
That brings all three gazes swinging fully his way.
"Who, me?" Nightscream asks, visor flickering. The others ignore him.
"Can't hurt," Stormcloud reasons, looking over the concotion in Ironhide's hand. His reasoning may have been affected by the fraction of his last cube now seeping into his system. He glances at Waterlog. "Well, are you just gonna sit on that all day?"
Waterlog funnels a noisy burst of air through his fans as only a hovercraft can. "Don't go trying to part a shipmate from his grog."
"You're a boring old scraplet." The speedboat-former looks back at Ironhide. "One of us wants one, yeah."
Ironhide could have just dipped out part of his own drink.
Instead he turns and snags a tiny stone cup from where it was sitting on one of the crates that still sit in the front room and carefully mixes a perfect little Chromia in it, allowing time for both explosion and flash. "There."
Stormcloud smirks and swaggers over, a little more unsteady now. Either his land-legs are slipping up, or... well, let's face it, we all know what's going on here.
Nightscream watches as he finally gets around to splashing some of his drink on his vocal circuits. It feels simultaneously refreshing and terrifyingly corrosive, but he'll deal. "What kind of drink's that?" he asks, when he thinks his vocaliser's less gummed up (it doesn't sound much better yet).
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The Sea Team 'cons have made some progress on their cubes despite the fight, though when Ironhide and Nightscream return they're just talking and sniggering.
"...But if the bird hadn't run to whatsistail- Prowl - we'd have been sitting pretty, am I right?" Stormcloud points out merrily to his team-mate.
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He glances at the two brothers, then settles down on the floor again and starts mixing himself something else that contains both blue and green energon, as well as several kinds of additives.
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Got him pegged? Oh yes, Nightscream thinks he does. But he's more likely to be right about Ironhide than either of the other Minicons in the room.
In the middle of agreeing heartily with Sotmcloud's assessment, Waterlog shoots the black car-bot a contemptuous leer. It's as much for the whistle as the thanks. Only one member of their team ever uses their native language, and he's not here.
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((*d'awwing at Nightscream* :p))
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"Hey, kid," Stormcloud says, fixing on the squirt now he's staying still, "you think you can take that stuff?"
((Hee, he's playing sweet for now and claiming emotionless!Ironhide is suspiciously like his Airazor <.< ))
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He lifts it silently in emotionless tribute to the lady it was named for, then sips his Chromia again.
((XD))
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"I'll believe it when you don't purge your precious engine all over the floor, greenkeel."
"Aye," agrees Waterlog. "'Tis an easy thing to spout talk and never put your metal to the test."
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"Who, me?" Nightscream asks, visor flickering. The others ignore him.
"Can't hurt," Stormcloud reasons, looking over the concotion in Ironhide's hand. His reasoning may have been affected by the fraction of his last cube now seeping into his system. He glances at Waterlog. "Well, are you just gonna sit on that all day?"
Waterlog funnels a noisy burst of air through his fans as only a hovercraft can. "Don't go trying to part a shipmate from his grog."
"You're a boring old scraplet." The speedboat-former looks back at Ironhide. "One of us wants one, yeah."
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Instead he turns and snags a tiny stone cup from where it was sitting on one of the crates that still sit in the front room and carefully mixes a perfect little Chromia in it, allowing time for both explosion and flash. "There."
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Nightscream watches as he finally gets around to splashing some of his drink on his vocal circuits. It feels simultaneously refreshing and terrifyingly corrosive, but he'll deal. "What kind of drink's that?" he asks, when he thinks his vocaliser's less gummed up (it doesn't sound much better yet).
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