[RL with Vanessa -- this is totally not a therapy session. Seriously.]

[death_chopper]

[Blackout's been spending a lot of time in Central and South America since becoming himself again, as far from the American military as he can be and still remain on the continents. Currently, he's in Mexico, hanging out in the mountains, killing time (and trying to avoid killing locals

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[death_chopper]

"You presume correctly." The voice seemed to emanate from the chopper, rather than coming from some external speaker or other. He allowed a moment to indulge his paranoia, scanning her slight form with a number of his perceptors, looking for any concealed weapons or aberrant power signatures, or anything similar.

There was nothing, of course, and that only made him feel foolish.

His rotors stopped suddenly, then folded back in a way that no helicopter's rotors could, the first step of transformation. A moment of whirling, rearranging metal and he stood before her--though perhaps 'towered over' would be more accurate. "Welcome, Vanessa."

[death_chopper]

If he could smirk with his face, he probably would have. As it was, he vents a sound suspiciously like a snort from somewhere high under his rotors. "It's a fairly common ability on my world," he remarked, by which he meant pretty everyone could do it because Cybertronians are the shit.

"I imagine it would seem impressive to organics, however."