"Nope, nope, that's not supposed to be there. Could have sworn that second portal was on the left, not the right. And - oh hells bells! Where the hell did this lake come from? This wasn't here before
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Now that causes a slightly raised eyebrow. Not at the person, but at their choice of words. After all, there aren't that many people in the nexus who say 'fragging' and she might just know a few of them. Including the one who she went bar-brawling with not long ago. Big guy, white skin, red eyes, chain around the wrist, smokes a cigar. Yea, that guy.
"True, but I don't have that keen a sense of smell." She shrugs.
This is an average size skinny 'teenage' girl, with white skin, bright blue eyes, a tendency to drink energon just to freak people out, and enough piercings to give any airport security heart attacks. Oh yeah, and little points on her ears, and teeth.
"You can't smell food 'n booze?" She pushes her hair back, then growls and knocks Megatron upside the head as he hunkers down to look more closely at the purple-haired woman. "Watch it, bastich! I'm slaggin' standin' on yer $@$#@$#@ aft."
"I could, if I weren't smelling so like someone's dusty old closet already." She takes a sniff at her arm and nearly sneezes. Some of these portals look like they haven't been used in years!
More blinks. Lots more. The looks are familiar, in a round-about way. But that language is almost like coming home. "Booze? Take it you know the best bar around here?"
"Best for you, huh? Should I ask?" Checking her watch, Leela shakes her head. "I don't have the gut for it today at least. Promised someone I'd meet them, an' I'm already late. Maybe some other time."
"She drinks things that would kill most squishies and some machines," says Megatron gravely, then looks at Mornbein as she knocks him with her fist again.
"Whatever." She sniggers at the expression of grave inquiry on the Cybertronian's face, then points in a random direction. "Try goin' that way."
"Ya try followin' yer nose?"
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"I don't think that it was that kind of shoe. More along the lines of a statue of a shoe maybe?"
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Mornbein snorts and quirks her double pierced eyebrow. "That kinda joint still got their own fraggin' smell."
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"True, but I don't have that keen a sense of smell." She shrugs.
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"You can't smell food 'n booze?" She pushes her hair back, then growls and knocks Megatron upside the head as he hunkers down to look more closely at the purple-haired woman. "Watch it, bastich! I'm slaggin' standin' on yer $@$#@$#@ aft."
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More blinks. Lots more. The looks are familiar, in a round-about way. But that language is almost like coming home. "Booze? Take it you know the best bar around here?"
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Then she sniffs and wrinkles her nose. "Fraggin' $#@#$%#$%."
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"Whatever." She sniggers at the expression of grave inquiry on the Cybertronian's face, then points in a random direction. "Try goin' that way."
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"You're welcome," says Megatron gravely.
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