Heyo, __wilderness__!!
You asked for victory ...? :)
TF Mech Exchange April ’09
P-p-poker Face
I watch my opponent from across the battlefield. Her posture is tense, shoulder plates hugging up against her neck lines. I glance down at the weapons in my hand and suppress a giggle. You mustn’t give it away, not just yet, I remind myself. But it’s just too good to be true!
It’s all her fault, really, for teaching me. I’ve never been too good at these games of strategy; that’s more for the mechs and femmes with battle computers, like Prowl or Prime. But I’ve surprised myself - I think I’ve surprised her, too. The whole concept turned out to be frighteningly simple … and now I find myself on the cusp of glory.
My opponent twitches. I tilt my head, optics whirling. Her movements are subtle - quite unusual. As it stands, she’s normally easy to read, but not here. A frown tugs at my lip components. Careful, Tracer, careful. Don’t give it away. Whatever you do, keep your vocalizer clamped! But it’s hard. Do you see the way she’s looking at me? Her optics are narrowed, helm tines down over the dome of her cranial plating. I see the flicker of light as her sensors glance down, then up to my face. Do not make contact, I tell myself and quickly look downwards.
I shift, roll my shoulder plating. Across the field, my opponent reaches out and casually sips from her mug. Crafty femme! Who’d have thought that she could be so devious? Well, little does she know that I, too, am a game player. I allow a small smile to tug at my facial planes and am rewarded when the tines on her helm twitch. She’s suspicious. Good.
What? Now she’s smiling. “As much as I love the suspense, Trace, why don’t you show me your hand?”
My neck lines tighten; I lift my chin. Bring it. “You first,” I goad.
The black lips form a grin. “No, you. I’ve got the pot.”
The pot. I’d forgotten about that. My optics slide to the small stack at her right elbow joint. Well, I didn’t put much in there to begin with; if this doesn’t turn out to my advantage, hopefully it doesn’t push her towards the goal.
“Fine,” I say, and spread them on the tabletop. There is a hiss from the other femme and the tines shoot up over her helm. This time, I can’t suppress the giggle. Do I have her? I narrow my optics and tighten the zoom. Do I? Do I?
“Pair for two, pair for four,” she counts, the grin slowly forming into a frown. I watch her sensors flick down to the table, then back to my hands. “Pair for six …” She counts up the runs; slowly, her vocalizer peters out and she reaches forward, grabbing my marker and putting it into the winner’s circle. “Good -”
I can’t hold it back anymore. “VICTORY!” I cry, jumping into the air, arms upraised. “VICTORY!” Elated, I knock back my chair and wriggle on the balls of my feet, giggling like a mis-processed femme.
Across the table, Solarflare sighs and rests her chin in the palm of her hand. As I jiggle about, I can see that she’s smiling. I dance out my ecstasy for a few nanoclicks more before stopping. With a barking laugh, I plop down into my chair. Winning is awesome, isn’t it? “Again?” I plead, widening my optics as far as they can go.
Solarflare sighs, but the smile is still there. “At least I can say that playing cribbage with Optimus isn’t as entertaining. You cut first.”
I laugh and reach for the deck.
TF Mech Exchange April ’09
P-p-poker Face
I watch my opponent from across the battlefield. Her posture is tense, shoulder plates hugging up against her neck lines. I glance down at the weapons in my hand and suppress a giggle. You mustn’t give it away, not just yet, I remind myself. But it’s just too good to be true!
It’s all her fault, really, for teaching me. I’ve never been too good at these games of strategy; that’s more for the mechs and femmes with battle computers, like Prowl or Prime. But I’ve surprised myself - I think I’ve surprised her, too. The whole concept turned out to be frighteningly simple … and now I find myself on the cusp of glory.
My opponent twitches. I tilt my head, optics whirling. Her movements are subtle - quite unusual. As it stands, she’s normally easy to read, but not here. A frown tugs at my lip components. Careful, Tracer, careful. Don’t give it away. Whatever you do, keep your vocalizer clamped! But it’s hard. Do you see the way she’s looking at me? Her optics are narrowed, helm tines down over the dome of her cranial plating. I see the flicker of light as her sensors glance down, then up to my face. Do not make contact, I tell myself and quickly look downwards.
I shift, roll my shoulder plating. Across the field, my opponent reaches out and casually sips from her mug. Crafty femme! Who’d have thought that she could be so devious? Well, little does she know that I, too, am a game player. I allow a small smile to tug at my facial planes and am rewarded when the tines on her helm twitch. She’s suspicious. Good.
What? Now she’s smiling. “As much as I love the suspense, Trace, why don’t you show me your hand?”
My neck lines tighten; I lift my chin. Bring it. “You first,” I goad.
The black lips form a grin. “No, you. I’ve got the pot.”
The pot. I’d forgotten about that. My optics slide to the small stack at her right elbow joint. Well, I didn’t put much in there to begin with; if this doesn’t turn out to my advantage, hopefully it doesn’t push her towards the goal.
“Fine,” I say, and spread them on the tabletop. There is a hiss from the other femme and the tines shoot up over her helm. This time, I can’t suppress the giggle. Do I have her? I narrow my optics and tighten the zoom. Do I? Do I?
“Pair for two, pair for four,” she counts, the grin slowly forming into a frown. I watch her sensors flick down to the table, then back to my hands. “Pair for six …” She counts up the runs; slowly, her vocalizer peters out and she reaches forward, grabbing my marker and putting it into the winner’s circle. “Good -”
I can’t hold it back anymore. “VICTORY!” I cry, jumping into the air, arms upraised. “VICTORY!” Elated, I knock back my chair and wriggle on the balls of my feet, giggling like a mis-processed femme.
Across the table, Solarflare sighs and rests her chin in the palm of her hand. As I jiggle about, I can see that she’s smiling. I dance out my ecstasy for a few nanoclicks more before stopping. With a barking laugh, I plop down into my chair. Winning is awesome, isn’t it? “Again?” I plead, widening my optics as far as they can go.
Solarflare sighs, but the smile is still there. “At least I can say that playing cribbage with Optimus isn’t as entertaining. You cut first.”
I laugh and reach for the deck.