(Untitled)
G1 Chromia
Chromia eyes the gaping hole of the shooting range’s rear barricade with a dangerous gleam to her optics. She never was a patient femme by any stretch of the word. And each klik longer that crater sits there, another figurative thread of Chromia's brittle tolerance snaps; physically expressed through the crushing death-grip she ( Read more... )
Chromia eyes the gaping hole of the shooting range’s rear barricade with a dangerous gleam to her optics. She never was a patient femme by any stretch of the word. And each klik longer that crater sits there, another figurative thread of Chromia's brittle tolerance snaps; physically expressed through the crushing death-grip she ( Read more... )
By now, however, Chromia’s pretty much decided that regardless of what she says, the guy’s still going to do whatever processes for him as best. Essentially, she figures he can rant and rave all he wants; he’s going to get frag all helpful responses from her now. Oh well. Can’t say I didn’t try.
She’s fairly contented that she’s said all she can. The stubborn fragger will just have to be contented with jaded, sarcastic and highly unhelpful responses from this point on. Angry but accommodating didn’t seem to be working a whole load of magic for him anyway.
At his query she shrugs and replies in a bored tone.*
I’m full. Wasn’t much left anyways. *Her hand then dully flops once towards him* But please continue. I’m riveted.
*She then plucks the blaster she’d previously loaded from the fence, ferreting out a cloth and buffer from her subspace to clean it. Pit, if she has to put up with My-Life’s-A-Soap-Opera Swindle, she may as well do something entertaining while enduring it. Even just for her sanity’s sake.
While the idea of simply leaving does cross her processor, she quickly discards it. Those two holes are still glaring, clear as day, from the barricade. And Chromia knows full well that she’s too damn stubborn to leave this place before dingus here fixes them.*
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Swindle is still gaping at her.
"Well - the pit! I thought you were supposed to have a reputation for drinking mechs under the table! Didn't have to waste it - I'd have saved you the trouble of that!"
Although, he reflects, he's probably had enough himself. Well, he hasn't. Not nearly enough. But he has if he's now going to do this thing.
He takes 'I'm riveted at face value. And continues:
"Yeah - well - I am gonna have to go and at least check it out, aren't I? I mean - he is my sparkmate. I do have obligations. Besides ...."
He looks at the femme and says dramatically, a waver in his vocalizer: "I do love him, you know, Chromia!" And he does mean it. In fact, he admits painfully to himself, its the main reason for going there. And he will - whatever the situation - do it.
"Although if everything's fine and Swindle's simply doing what I think he's doing then I'm grabbing my stuff and I'm out of there!"
Having made a decision, certain 'practicalities' occur to Swindle. Like the fact that he's only got one canon, and he left a lot of ammo down at the house in the forest with Vortex. Chromia's really been very helpful. She's listened. And she didn't rave on like Wheelie about the holes in the fence.
Maybe she'll do him a favour. He gives her a sheepish smile:
"Uh - look - I know this is probably a bit of a tall order - and I will fix the holes, honest, I will! But for now .... " he casts her an appealing look, " .... you wouldn't have any - uh - spare ammo I could borrow, would you? And maybe a spare blaster as well?"
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Her cloth pauses mid-swipe, optic ridges creasing slightly. She doesn’t say anything at first; mainly because she’s wondering where Slick got the bearings to ask her for a favor after coming here and, not only not fixing the initial hole he made, but adding another to match.
Fella has some gall to ask that. Sure. He’ll fix the holes. When it fragging suits him. How dumb does he think I am, anyway? He came here under the assurance that he would, and we all know how well that turned out.
After a moment, she looks up at him with a thoughtful frown.*
You like makin’ deals right? Well let me throw one at you. *She crosses her arms and nods towards the barricade* You fix both holes now, you get ammo and a gun. You fix one hole now, you get ammo but no gun. You fix nothing, and you get zilch.
*Her helm then cants to the side slightly and a wan smile tilts her expression*
Sound fair sweetspark?
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His mind is still very much on the decision. And the many whats and wherefores and possibilities associated with the decision. Swindle surrenders to a myriad of confused emptions. Fixing the holes is suddenly a comparatively simple matter. And a welcome distraction.
Besides, its an excuse to impress the femme. Because if he gets through this thing with his sparkmate and comes out the other side - or even if he doesn't - well, you never know! He used to be good with femmes, as he kept telling Rumble. And this one can't be uninterested - otherwise she wouldn't have listened.
He beams at her: "You're on!"
Swindle moves quickly across to the first hole, seeing as he approaches that the flap of metal which used to occupy the gaping portal is dangling behind it. Opening into his upper arm compartment, he goes to extract the soldering device he always carries in there. Except that this time - it isn't there. Slag it! It's another darned thing he left in the caves.
Looking across, he tries to appear as smooth and unruffled as possible.
"Now - if you've just got a welder or something - this will be no problem at all. Us Combaticons are very good at filling holes, see!"
Swindle's optics glint mischeviously, a wry smile appearing on his faceplates. He thinks fondly that his 'humour' would have amused Vortex. Although probably not Blast Off.
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Funny. Would’a figured that was more a Constructicon thing.
*She’s a tad surprised that Swindle’s actually doing it. Seemed almost too easy, particularly after all that emotional bitching and self-pity party he’d been so caught up in previously. But she shrugs it off, putting it down to that same “Decepticon weirdness” she’d been seeing so much of around this place. She’s content with just being glad that he’s finally fixing it.
Huh. Almost makes putting up with all that spirit-crushingly boring bitchin’ worthwhile… Almost.
Silently, she ponders on whether he’s planning on fixing both holes. Ammo she has no real problem doling out; she can spare a few rounds if it will make him go away. Guns... Chromia would be a tad more wary about loaning them out to just anyone. Particularly to a ‘Con.
She glances down at the blaster in her hands. One of her newer ones and a pretty good make. It’d be a shame if it got damaged (a shame for Swindle, that is) but the idea of her other, older, more cherished blaster getting slagged would be damn near agonizing. She’d really prefer to give none out, but...
But she said she would. And, providing Swindle fixes both holes here and now, she’ll follow through on that.
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Relieved now that Chromia didn't seem to 'get' his crude joke - because he's not at all sure it would have gone down well if she had - Swindle catches the welder and gets to work on the fence.
As he welds the sheets of metal neatly into place, he's reminded of the time recently when he welded a - somewhat smaller - patch in Vortex's rotor. But again, he doesn't think a description of how good that was would please Chromia, so he says nothing. The welder humms softly as he works.
Swindle finishes the job and steps back to admire his work, thinking again.
"Yeah - I reckon I should go armed. Like I said, I don't know that I'm gonna find anything - other than something I really don't wanna see. And I can't see your lot deliberately breaking the truce. It just doesn't seem like something they would do. But I reckon I should cover my aft just in case."
He looks across at her and smiles, grimly, before moving towards the second hole.
"This place seems to do weird things to some mechs' processors."
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Optics still on the gun she dryly replies.*
Understatement of the century pal. *She gives her helm an exasperated shake before rechecking the guns magazine* But as pathetic as it is to admit, somethin’ tells me that yours isn’t the saddest case here.
*Noting the magazine is only half loaded, she extracts a fresh ammunition clip from her subspace to place in it.*
And while some versions of my lot may not outright break the truce, that doesn't mean they'll sit back and do nothin' if you're in their way.
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"I'm not gonna get in their way, am I?"
He's not, Swindle thinks, as he saunters over to the second hole. He's going to creep in there very circumspect and suss the situation out, and leave as soon as possible if there's nothing for him to do. Which, in all probability, there won't be.
He notes, with some dismay, that the second hole is a trickier proposition than the first, because there's no flap of metal to weld back over it. Disappointed, he looks around for something he can 'bung' in it.
He's aware of the femme fiddling with the weaponry, and a thrill runs through him that she is actually going to help him. Now if he wasn't in with a chance later, she wouldn't be doing that, would she? The consideration of this is still a good distraction. As is something else she said.
"A sadder case than mine? Whose?"
He can't imagine anyone in the Nexus having a worse time than him at the moment. The thought that somebody might be is curiously reassuring.
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Pit if I know. Maybe the poor slaggers who got themselves kidnapped? *Her shoulder raises in a brief shrug as she pops the magazine back into place on the blaster. She then disinterestedly adds.* Assuming ol’ Percy’s right, of course.
*Chromia then weighs the gun in one hand, giving its exterior a final onceover before setting it atop the fence. She then plucks a data-pad from her subspace to further distract herself and keep an air of 'too busy to talk', though she highly doubts it'll have the desired effect with this guy.*
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Swindle is secretly infuriated by the remark. It only goes to prove his point about Autobots jumping to conclusions! In his rather precarious mental state, anger flares through him to the point where if Chromia had been standing right next to him, he may well have landed her one.
But Swindle has had eons of concealing his feelings as part of practised behaviour in the world of commerce. If he's minded to do so. Like - when its really important. He looks at the gun in Chromia's hand. It sure is important now that she doesn't withdraw her 'assistance.'
Looking further down the fenceline, he espies a forty four gallon drum, the top of which should nicely cover the hole. So instead of coming out with a barrage of something verbal, he strides over, and grabbing it, takes out his frustrations by ripping the top off. He and throws the rest down, the metal cylinder bouncing off the ground with a hollow clang!
Holding up the sheet of metal and examining it, he says smoothly: "Just what I was looking for!"
Then, returning and measuring the sheet of metal against the hole, he says softly: "Come on now Chromia! Where's the evidence for that? A bit of speculation from some alt universe bozo who's all strung up about his sparkmate or something! Hardly proof!
Folding the metal to size, he tries to ignore the fact that his voice was overdefensive, and that the more he thinks about what Perceptor said, and what Swindle said, and puts two and two together, the more it seems like two and two make five.
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Either way, Swindle seriously needs to get that emote processor of his checked out. There’s no way those consistent mood swings can be normal… or healthy.
Her optics remain set to the data-pad while she deadpans back.*
I said provided he’s right, didn’t I? *She absently scrolls further down the text splayed out across the screen with her finger, then adds in a tone bordering on amused* Though you’re one to talk about bots being too strung up over their sparkmates, Slick.
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Placing the makeshift patch across the hole, Swindle starts to solder, maintaining an angry silence as the femme tries to minimize her typical out of proportion Autobottish reaction.
But her other comment registers also. Heck! he is hung up on his sparkmate, even more so than he was over Vortex when he first came to the Nexus. Even now, his spark burns at the prospect of just seeing him again. And its that "hungupdness," that obsession with Swindle, which is going to make him go down to those caves. It overrides any other anger he might feel towards his sparkmate, or the possibility of anything else that might be.
Welding the last seam - less neatly than he may otherwise have done owing to the distraction - he mutters: "Yeah, well, you don't know what it's like, do you? You feel like this - it kinda takes you over. You don't have any choice in some things any more."
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And as the conversation promptly veers back in the direction of lover-boy's sparkmate (whom Chromia is liking less and less from the amount of ranting he's caused her to listen to), she decides to cut this impromptu therapy session short.
Her gaze drops back down to the data-pad and she absently plucks the blaster from the fence.*
You takin' the gun or what?
*She lets the gun idly dangle from her finger hooked through the trigger guard, gaze still set to the text.*
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Swindle thinks for a few moments more, mentally preparing himself for the trip he's about to make. He can't remember a time when he was so much going into the unknown and it makes his sensor net prickle. But he's not so freaked out by the proposition that he's about to let Chromia see any nervousness at all.
Besides, despite everything, he's rather pleased. He's done the right thing by the femme and got what he wanted - a good business outcome! And she must be impressed if she's giving him the gun.
He may as well not waste one final opportunity to - well - pave the way for future communications.
Pulling himself up, Swindle walks over with that characteristic Combaticon swagger which has developed during his time as part of the gestalt - the one which he imagines makes him seem like Vortex and Brawl - and takes the gun from her, venturing a crooked smile.
"Thanks!" he even manages a wink. "We still gotta have a proper drink sometime too, huh?"
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*Chromia flops her free hand in a listless half-wave*
Get goin' then. The sooner you get it over with and all. *She then hesitates before grudgingly adding* And good luck I guess.
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