Bored. Bored. Still bored.

[show_my_cannons]

Who: Sarah Lennox, SG!Rodimus, Movie!Ratchet, Movie!Ironhide
What: Talking, ceiling tile counting, gratuitous use of the ">:|" expression, booze.
Where: The Tyran Household
Summary: Ironhide is still laid up, visitors show up to help with this... or tie him down.
Notes: In-progress

Comments

[evilmoustache]

Rodimus was tired of waiting for people to come to him. Ironhide was laid up, recouperating after a battle with Prime (something Rodimus could sympathise with) and was obviously bored.

What was a bot to do but offer to drop by and be company, especially company with 'booze'?

After explaining his 'mission' to the human who answered the door, Rodimus made his way to the still-prone Autobot.
"Figure you could use a distraction from bein inoperative. I brought high-grade."

[evilmoustache]

Rodimus rolled his eyes. "Cause it makes sense that I'd offline the poor human who answers the door." He snorted at 'Hide "'Stache or not!"

With some degree of show he climbed unsteadily to his feet, and offered Ratchet the last can. "Just offerin a bit of company, on account he's gotta be bored outta 'is processors an I know how that feels. An I ain't askin for no bein 'tolerated'." He shuttered his optics a few times, focusing badly on the yellow robot. "I'll get gone, if'n you stayin round with 'im'."

The voice should have been strong, and possibly a bit angry- but from Rodimus it came out a little soft on the edges, as if he was lying and trying to put on a show of being just fine on his own.

[show_my_cannons]

"Jus' sayin'," he answered with a shrug.

Even drunk as he was, the tension level was apparent. But for the life of him, Ironhide couldn't figure out why. "Nuh-uh," he said, reaching out to tug on Rod's arm. "Y'gonna stay. An' finish what... we started. What that is. Is drinking. Th'good stuff. An' you--"

He pointed vaguely in Ratchet's direction. "'Re gonna siddown. An' drink too. With us. Okay? Okay. Siddown." For emphasis, he moved a leg out of the way on the berth. "Down."

[evilmoustache]

Rod let 'Hide tug him down back to his space on the floor next to the Autobot's berth, not exactly sitting with grace. "See?" He gestured with his can towards Ratchet and the base in general. "See? Not my bots. Autobots. Not mine." He shook his head and closed his eyes. "Anybot tell him he's slaggin scary, 'Hide?"

He pointedly didn't respond to Ratchet's comment. There wasn't much point, and antagonizing him wouldn't work with being drunk anyway.

[show_my_cannons]

"Aw, you get used to it," he grumbled dismissively. "Jus' th'same. Bunch'a civilians... now 're bunch'a soldiers."

Without a word, without really thinking about it as much as his drunken processor could think about anything, he swung a leg over the medic's lap. He sprawled back, reclining, to study the ceiling again. Somehow, he'd forgotten how many tiles there were...

"Yeah. Tell 'im again. Then shove 'im. Helps."

[evilmoustache]

"I shove 'im, an you both go sprawlin'" Rodimus snorted, and crushed his empty can flat. "Then you wrecks your welds, an he tears me a new exhaust. No thanks."
He reached for a new can, and realized he was out. That was... disappointing. "You're a good scary medic. Scary too. Can't blame ya for that I guess, ain't none of us... my bots.... wantin to listen to doc's orders, used to roll off soon as weld cooled..."

Usually rolling and screaming, but details weren't THAT important....

[show_my_cannons]

That was a good point. "Hn. Shove 'im later then," he decided, nodding. That would be better than wrecking welds and tearing. "Better watch out f'the tearing," he added. "Got th'bzzt. Bzzt." Hadn't he said that before? Didn't Rod listen. "Gotta listen."

Lifting his head, he peered blearily at the bright yellow shape. Who had his leg... in his lap. When had that happened? "Hey," he growled. His leg twitched, drunken motor controls malfunctioning as he tried moving the offending limb. "Giv'it back. What're y'doin'?"

[evilmoustache]

"I am listening!" Rod pouted, very pointedly not noticing anything at all about legs and bots and interesting positions. "S'why I'm not pushin nobot till you're fixed up!"

[show_my_cannons]

"Nuh-uh," he went on. "Y'heard me? 'Bout the... the... bzzt? Yeah." He shook his head. "Yeah, then y'can shove ev'rywhere. Be like a party. Like... th'ring thing."

And then his vocalizer shorted. His leg twitched as if it had been electrocuted, which, considering what was happening to it, it might as well have been. "What..." he tried to say. "Stoppit. Now."

[evilmoustache]

"I'll be careful." Rod nodded, trying to stay sollemn and not smile at the scene in front of him. So that was how it was. Ratchet was more important - at least to Ironhide- than as just a simple medic.

Rod kept quiet, not wanting to interrupt between them, mostly morbidly curious as to what exactly the two would do with an audience (and he needed to stay on Ratchet's good side, interrupting probably wasn't the way to go).

[greasemunkygal]

Mikaela had chosen this opportune moment to stroll into the warehouse after a short walk with Sam. She slid in the door, shutting it behind her. Turning around, she moved to take her purse off and looked up, then--

clunk.

Her bag hit the floor, and her eyes were wide. Wow, that was something to walk in on.