Reporter
Reporter: *to Gen when he runs into her at the Ark a few days later* Did I offend your husband? *has a Bumblebee attached to him*
Gen: *attempts to rescue him from the Bee* I think he's just very private and not used to people asking personal questions. Particularly organics
Reporter: But... he's used to the limelight? Is it that different on your... ow ow, sweetheart that's my hair... world?
Gen: Bee, let go of the nice man. You need to be gentle. And I wouldn't say that he's used to the limelight. *looks off to the side* There's not much media when the entire planet is at war.
Reporter: *pauses in patting Bumblebee's tiny hand and looks up* The entire planet? *soberly* I... can't imagine that. But people still looked up to heroes?
Gen: He was still just a rookie back on Cybertron.
Reporter: *trying to understand* So that was... what year? How old is he now?
Bumblebee: *wants to chew on him!*
Gen: *holds Bee away from the reporter* Um... a few million years? *looks hesitant as she says this, not sure if she should be sharing*
Reporter: *blinks* Erm. Million?
Bumblebee: *squeaaaal!*
Gen: If I carried out the conversions correctly, yes.
Reporter: ... Do you know how long a million is, Miss?
Bumblebee: *squeeee.... sleep*
Gen: *sad smile* Sir, I've lived long enough that some of the first alien species that I've known are probably either long extinct or they've evolved into something unrecognizable. And I'm young
Reporter: 0_o You're... joking.
Bumblebee: *twitches in her recharge and makes little sounds*
Gen: *shakes her head while cradling Bee close to her spark* I'm approximately three million years old.
Reporter: *blinking* And you're young.... *looks at Bumblebee* How old is she?
Gen: *makes an 'eeee' face* That's... complicated. And I don't know if I'm allowed to talk about it.
Reporter: *knows his manners and the rules of good reporting* Okay. Uh... back to your husband. So... he was only a rookie on Cybertron. And he's never been in the limelight. Er... I had a feeling that my questions were making him uneasy. But they were just standard stuff.
Gen: "Standard stuff?" That's pretty vague, and varies from culture to culture
Reporter: Where he was born, where he met you. What kind of stuff the family likes to do on days off. How old your baby is and what her name is. How he's handling fatherhood. His hobbies.... Where his military career started. *quizzical look*
Gen: Those... are things Decepticons don't share. They could either be considered a weakness or used against him.
Reporter: ...I don't understand.
Gen: Dreadnought's technically a Decepticon, even though he's staying here. It's the side he fought for most of the war, and it's the way he was raised.
Reporter: I think I don't understand what Decepticon means. I thought it was just a political faction. But for... would Autobots see the questions the same way?
Gen: They'd be more open about answering them
Reporter: So... 'Decepticon' is a competely different culture?
Bumblebee: *squeak and flail, then hide face against Gen's chestplate and settle down again*
Gen: I... think that'd be a good way to put it. *smiles apologetically* I'm not the best person to ask, though. I've spent most of my life on other planets.
Reporter: ...Anything you can tell me... I'd really like to understand. It won't go into an article. We don't know anything about your people, I think.
Gen: I honestly don't know all that much. My father... he didn't want me to grow up in the middle of a war, so I was raised off planet. I was so busy helping him study and work with different organic species that I didn't think to learn about my own culture
Reporter: *nods, frowning with confusion* So... I won't be getting that interview with Dreadnought... will I?
Gen: I could try asking him to reconsider. *cheeky smile* I've been told that my "sad puppy eyes" are almost impossible to resist.
Reporter: *chuckles despite himself* I understand some things about you, at least. And I'd really appreciate that. The public really wants to know more about him. He's a big celebrity right now. *pauses and sobers as he remembers the clips he's seen of what was left of that Decepticon base* He attacked his own people....
Gen: *also sobers* He... didn't consider them to be his people anymore. Not after they left him behind.
Reporter: *visibly struggling to understand, this human from a background of loving parents and kindly bringing up*
Gen: *shakes her head* It's complicated. But he might be able to explain it better than I can.
*and from outside comes the sound of Hotrod driving off the roof again*
Reporter: ...Think he'd talk to me about that? *looks up at the whoop and the crash and the engine roar*
Gen: There's always the possibility. *winces and goes o_o at the sound of the crash*
Reporter: Uh... what was that?
Bumblebee: *whimper fuss wriggle*
Gen: I don't know... *rocks Bee gently to comfort her*
Reporter: *listens to laughter and catcalls and decides it couldn't have been anything bad* It sounds like it's nothing. *looks up at her again* Tell me now, have I got a hope of getting that interview?
Gen: Honestly? I don't know. But at the very least, I can ask him what he would or wouldn't mind you knowing, and I can pass it along to you.
Reporter: *nods, pondering* What about pictures?
Bumblebee: *springs a leak*
Gen: o_o Eh... *un-subspaces a cloth and uses that to clean up* I wouldn't mind having my picture taken, but Dread might. Especially if they were taken without his knowledge.
Reporter: We wouldn't do that. It's against our policies. ...Erm, stupid question. Baby robots wet themselves?
Gen: *quirks an optic ridge* Does Prime dance?
Reporter: *blinks* *tries to picture the serious big bot doing so and fails* ...Does he?
Reporter: *sighs* Something tells me getting to talk to him would be a lot easier. But nobody wants to know about him.
Inferno: *yell from outside* I found another paparazzi! Can I paint him green?
Kup: NO
Inferno: ... Orange?
Kup: NO
Inferno: Glue paper all over him?
Kup: NO
Reporter: *reaches to touch Bumblebee's little head, totally shutting out the continued question and answer session* This isn't your little girl, is it?
Gen: No. Cali's with Dreadnought. Bumblebee's being raised by the entire base, mostly Jazz. And Dread's adopted her as a baby sister
Reporter: *nods* So she's... an orphan?
Bumblebee: *passed out hardcore now*
Inferno: *has progressed to calling the pound and dipping the guy in tar and feathers*
Gen: If she was, she isn't anymore. She does have a family. *is starting to look concerned over the outside convo*
Reporter: *accepts this, though the thought of parents being killed when their baby was just toddling bugs him as he thinks of his own toddler* She reminds me of my son. He's two, and starting to try and run the show.
Mikaela: *suddenly stridently adds her two cents worth and tells Inferno in no uncertain terms to leave Kup the #$%#@$@ alone*
Reporter: *hand instinctively toward the baby's ears.* 0_0 Who's that?
Gen: *tries not to think to hard about it, seeing as how she and Psych are orphans themselves* I hope Cali won't be this rambunctious when she gets older. And that would be Mikaela. She's training to be a medic under Ratchet
Reporter: She sounds human.... *looks up as Dreadnought strides in*
Dreadnought: *caught sad vibes from Gen. Gives reporter a look*
Gen: She is. *sends Dread reassurances and asks him to be nice to the reporter*
Dreadnought: -What did he do to you?- *rumbling and frowning*
Reporter: *greets him with a friendly smile that stays firmly in place despite the big mech's terse reply*
Gen: -Nothing. He's just asking a few harmless questions.- *gives him a reproachful look for the growling*
Dreadnought: *blinks and instinctively feels sheepish at her look* -I'm rumbling for Cali.-
Reporter: I should head back. Thanks for your time, Genetria, Dreadnought. *half holds out a hand to shake and then hesitates*
Gen: -Mmhmm. Yeah, right.- *sticks out her right index finger for him to shake*
Reporter: *looks relieved and shakes, then nods to Dreadnought and goes*
Dreadnought: *relaxes a bit, though he's still rumbling and Two's tail is lashing*
Gen: *sighs* Dreadnought...
Dreadnought: *settles to the floor and rubs his drone's ears* You're angry at me again?
Gen: *leans against him* Of course not.
Dreadnought: *his rumbling softens as he puts a hand on her back... and there's no sign of Caleendi, though he's using the quiet tone that he usually uses around her*
Gen: Even if I think you could try being nicer to some of the reporters. They just want to get to know you be- *stops, suddenly noticing the tone* Dready? Where's Cali?
Dreadnought: *points to one of his storage compartments as he frowns warily at her words* Sleeping.
Gen: o_o Are you sure that's safe?
Dreadnought: I do it with Bumblebee all the time. It's lined with towels.
Gen: Can I see? Or would that wake her?
Dreadnought: *carefully opens the panel on his side, to reveal one tiny foot poking out of the fluffy nest*
Gen: *leans in to better inspect it*
*towels are attached to the walls and top of the compartment, and others are folded carefully to make a soft and safe bed for a tiny bot. Caleendi is curled up, lulled by the sound of Dreadnought's engine and spark.*
Gen: ... think you have room for one more?
Dreadnought: *peers into the compartment, considering Bumblebee's usual reactions to Caleendi.* We'd have to take Cali out to get them both to fit.
Gen: Nevermind, then. I don't want to disturb either of them.
Dreadnought: *sends an order to the MCs for more towels as he shuts Caleendi's compartment and opens another, quickly pitching out the bits of stuff he had in there*
Gen: *stares for a bit, then pokes it* How many of those do you have?
Dreadnought: Four this size. *takes the towels as the MC arrives and then takes glue from another compartment beneath Caleendi's*
Gen: What were they for, originally?
Dreadnought: These are just pockets for storing whatever. But the two top ones are close to my spark, and the little ones like the sound. *waits till she's done looking*
Gen: Hmm. *leans back to give him room*
Dreadnought: *works carefully and quickly, making a bed identical to the other* These compartments don't shift when I change mode, either.
MC: *jabbering away about some music video or other and the lousy set up they'd had on the stage*
Gen: That's good. Though I hope you don't have a need to transform. *she waits until he's obviously done before placing Bee in the compartment*
Dreadnought: *gently pokes the loose toweling around the bitty femme, then watches her for a moment as she snuggles into the familiar bed with tiny squeaks* Transforming doesn't worry me. I hope I never have to fight with them on board. *shuts the compartment carefully and turns his optics toward his mate* What did the organic want?
Gen: *moves in for a hug* Just to get to know you better. The people of this planet think of you as a hero.
Dreadnought: *puts both arms around her, his rumbling soft and deep as he considers her words* I've seen what they do to their heroes. I won't let them do that to you.
Gen: Why? What do you think will happen?
Dreadnought: *relays to her mob scenes of fans trying to get near someone they like; of politicians riding in bullet proof cages; of Yoko Ono all alone after her husband was shot....*
Gen: *shivers and presses closer* There's... there's always the Nexus if I need to get away for a while.
Dreadnought: *Rumbling gets a bit edgy as he lifts her slightly and leans over her protectively* You shouldn't have to hide.
Gen: Neither should you.
Dreadnought: *puzzled, thinking of hiding as disappearing into the Nexus* I'm not.
Gen: *gives him a slight poke* Yes, you are. You hardly talk to anyone outside of a small group of people, and you've been refusing to let any of the reporters get to know you. You might not be hiding physically, but you are emotionally.
Dreadnought: *more puzzled, though trying hard to understand this. He's doing what he's always done.... But she wants something different?*
Sureshot: *steps in, excited* Dreadnought, you have to.... *stops as his older friend puts up a hand, then looks back and forth between Dreadnought and Gen* I'll get a holo. *goes back out*
Gen: *drops her voice so no-one could listen in* I know this is ironic, coming from me, but at least try to be more open? Please?
Dreadnought: *tenses instinctively at the thought* If I speak to those organics it might bring danger to you, Caleendi, and Psych. Humans purport to dislike killing, and I was created to kill. They should focus on 'heroes' more to their liking. *he's not refusing outright, he's presenting arguments*
Gen: You don't have to answer those questions, if you think they're that dangerous. But some of the others, like hobbies or family, seem harmless enough.
Dreadnought: ...This is important to you. *millions of years of caution and being a loner are rising up and growling at him*
Gen: That, and it gets me out of trying to answer for you. *she looks up and gives him a teasing smile*
Dreadnought: *nods as her words confirm what he said* You don't need to answer. *ponders 'hobby' and rejects the thought of talking about his book collection. Decides he has no hobbies*
Gen: *she feels that, and he's not getting away with it* What about those book chips? Or that poem you wrote? Or taking care of the sparklings?
Dreadnought: *flash of outright horror and revulsion at the thought of sharing that poem.* ...Caring for the little ones is part of being a member of a family.
Gen: Okay, just mention reading. And I think they'll warm to you if they knew you were a family mech.
Dreadnought: *thinks he understands* If I seem less threatening they'll feel less need to be threatening.
Gen: *nods* Mmhmm
Dreadnought: *this makes sense to him, and he thinks it over as he gently rubs her back. The thought of people wanting to hurt his family if they find out about them makes him bristle, but he can feel Gen's conviction that he should do this.*
Gen: You don't have to go out and do it right away. Just think about it.
Dreadnought: *nods slowly, pondering the fact that he's no longer the mech that no one wants to be near because they fear what he can do*
Hot Rod: *peeks in* We have a movie. Do you guys want to come watch it?
Dreadnought: *frowns at him absently*
Hot Rod: *grins his undaunted grin and holds up the case to show the title... yes, the young Autobots are in danger of running afoul of Monty Python's grail quest*
Gen: *peers at the title* "Monty Python"? What's that?
Psych: *appears seemingly out of nowhere* Holy Grail? *grins* I'm game.
Hot Rod: *grin widens* It's supposed to be funny.
Dreadnought: ... funny. Yeah. Like Psych thinks he's funny?
Hot Rod: Hey, you still quote that guy from 'Princess Bride'.
Dreadnought: That's a good line.
Psych: *too busy looking at ze movie to banter*
Dreadnoght: *looks down at his mate, emoting a question* -Your glitchy brother likes it.-
Sureshot and Slingshot: *in the hallway, laughing as they go past* Run away!
Gen: -It could be fun. And if not, we can always leave.-
Dreadnought: -Like usual. And maybe someone will glue Slingshot down again.- *yes, once he'd gotten over the surprise, the sight of the rambunctious and annoying Arielbot helplessly stuck to the couch had amused him. Especially after he'd turned Bumblebee loose on him*
Gen: -...Again?-
Dreadnought: -Wasn't it funny?-
Psych: -I thought it was.-
Dreadnought: *snorts at him as he sets Gen down and gets to his feet*
Psych: *walks over and wraps his arms around Gen* -Hey, you laughed, too.-
Dreadnought: *not nearly as grim as he's coming across outwardly* So?
Slingshot: Run away!
*CLANG!*
Skydive and Air Raid: Quick, get the dead antidote!
Fireflight: ... He's not dead!
Dreadnought: *thinks he better get out there before the kids start a riot. But still pauses to wait for Gen.*
Psych: But he's almost dead.
Fireflight: *starts to cry*
Dreadnought: *growls and takes a swat at his brother in law's head*
Psych: *attempts to dodge* What? I thought we were quoting!
Sky Dive: We were. He's fine, really, look. *pokes him*
Slingshot: OUCH!
Dreadnought: You made her cry, you glitch.
Gen: He didn't mean to.
Dreadnought: -I know. I just haven't hit him lately.- *actually feeling rather content. And not very intent on actually scoring a wap*
Gen: *gives Dready a look*
Dreadnought: *smiles at her, brown optics soft and full of affection*
Hot Rod: Dreadnought just gave Gen puppy dog optics! *runs off toward the rec room laughing*
Gen: *fights back a smile; "woogie" optics tend to look out of place on Dreadnought*
Dreadnought: *also sends her a wash of of love over their bond*
Sureshot: *looks through the door* I'm turning it on!
Gen: *the smile wins*
Psych: *rolls his optics and nudges Gen* Come on, let's go, or we'll miss the opening credits.
Dreadnought: -Stay back for a minute.- *thinking of kisses*
*both catch onto that thought*
Psych: *sighs and gives Gen a light push to Dready before leaving for the movie* Have fun, you two.
Dreadnought: *hunkers down and offers her his hand, slightly distracted as one of the bittybots stirs and squeaks.*
Gen: *looks at where the squeak came from* -Who was that?-
Dreadnought: Cali talkin' in her sleep. *his deep voice and his spark are full of affection for his new daughter*
Gen: Imagine once she starts using words...
Dreadnought: As long as she doesn't start with Kup's favorites like Bumble is. *pulls his mate close and lays his cheek on her helm, kisses forgotten in favor of cuddles*
Sky Dive: ...You're sitting on Gen and Dreadnought's couch. Do you want to be squashed?
Slingshot: They snooze they lose!
Gen: *sighs and returns the cuddles* How is it that children always manage to pick up on the words you don't want them to?
Dreadnought: ...They do? *blink*
Silverbolt: *jumps on his brother and punts him off the couch*
Gen: *nods* Doesn't matter what species, if there's foul language, the children will learn it. Even if they don't know what it means.
Dreadnought: That's... not good. *he has no idea*
Slingshot: What the slag was that for? Die, jerk!
Silverbolt: I was trying to save you from getting on Dreadnought's bad side!
Hot Rod: The bottom of his foot?
Skydive: Shut up; look at these freaky credits. What the slag is this about?
Dreadnought: *sigh* Should we go slap them into shape?
Gen: *nods again* It's like they think we can't hear them
Dreadnought: *offers to swoop her up off her feet* -You think they're actually thinking?-
Gen: *is starting to get used to being carried* -One would hope.-
Dreadnought: *snorts as he swoops her out of the room*
((co-written with silenceandpsych))
Gen: *attempts to rescue him from the Bee* I think he's just very private and not used to people asking personal questions. Particularly organics
Reporter: But... he's used to the limelight? Is it that different on your... ow ow, sweetheart that's my hair... world?
Gen: Bee, let go of the nice man. You need to be gentle. And I wouldn't say that he's used to the limelight. *looks off to the side* There's not much media when the entire planet is at war.
Reporter: *pauses in patting Bumblebee's tiny hand and looks up* The entire planet? *soberly* I... can't imagine that. But people still looked up to heroes?
Gen: He was still just a rookie back on Cybertron.
Reporter: *trying to understand* So that was... what year? How old is he now?
Bumblebee: *wants to chew on him!*
Gen: *holds Bee away from the reporter* Um... a few million years? *looks hesitant as she says this, not sure if she should be sharing*
Reporter: *blinks* Erm. Million?
Bumblebee: *squeaaaal!*
Gen: If I carried out the conversions correctly, yes.
Reporter: ... Do you know how long a million is, Miss?
Bumblebee: *squeeee.... sleep*
Gen: *sad smile* Sir, I've lived long enough that some of the first alien species that I've known are probably either long extinct or they've evolved into something unrecognizable. And I'm young
Reporter: 0_o You're... joking.
Bumblebee: *twitches in her recharge and makes little sounds*
Gen: *shakes her head while cradling Bee close to her spark* I'm approximately three million years old.
Reporter: *blinking* And you're young.... *looks at Bumblebee* How old is she?
Gen: *makes an 'eeee' face* That's... complicated. And I don't know if I'm allowed to talk about it.
Reporter: *knows his manners and the rules of good reporting* Okay. Uh... back to your husband. So... he was only a rookie on Cybertron. And he's never been in the limelight. Er... I had a feeling that my questions were making him uneasy. But they were just standard stuff.
Gen: "Standard stuff?" That's pretty vague, and varies from culture to culture
Reporter: Where he was born, where he met you. What kind of stuff the family likes to do on days off. How old your baby is and what her name is. How he's handling fatherhood. His hobbies.... Where his military career started. *quizzical look*
Gen: Those... are things Decepticons don't share. They could either be considered a weakness or used against him.
Reporter: ...I don't understand.
Gen: Dreadnought's technically a Decepticon, even though he's staying here. It's the side he fought for most of the war, and it's the way he was raised.
Reporter: I think I don't understand what Decepticon means. I thought it was just a political faction. But for... would Autobots see the questions the same way?
Gen: They'd be more open about answering them
Reporter: So... 'Decepticon' is a competely different culture?
Bumblebee: *squeak and flail, then hide face against Gen's chestplate and settle down again*
Gen: I... think that'd be a good way to put it. *smiles apologetically* I'm not the best person to ask, though. I've spent most of my life on other planets.
Reporter: ...Anything you can tell me... I'd really like to understand. It won't go into an article. We don't know anything about your people, I think.
Gen: I honestly don't know all that much. My father... he didn't want me to grow up in the middle of a war, so I was raised off planet. I was so busy helping him study and work with different organic species that I didn't think to learn about my own culture
Reporter: *nods, frowning with confusion* So... I won't be getting that interview with Dreadnought... will I?
Gen: I could try asking him to reconsider. *cheeky smile* I've been told that my "sad puppy eyes" are almost impossible to resist.
Reporter: *chuckles despite himself* I understand some things about you, at least. And I'd really appreciate that. The public really wants to know more about him. He's a big celebrity right now. *pauses and sobers as he remembers the clips he's seen of what was left of that Decepticon base* He attacked his own people....
Gen: *also sobers* He... didn't consider them to be his people anymore. Not after they left him behind.
Reporter: *visibly struggling to understand, this human from a background of loving parents and kindly bringing up*
Gen: *shakes her head* It's complicated. But he might be able to explain it better than I can.
*and from outside comes the sound of Hotrod driving off the roof again*
Reporter: ...Think he'd talk to me about that? *looks up at the whoop and the crash and the engine roar*
Gen: There's always the possibility. *winces and goes o_o at the sound of the crash*
Reporter: Uh... what was that?
Bumblebee: *whimper fuss wriggle*
Gen: I don't know... *rocks Bee gently to comfort her*
Reporter: *listens to laughter and catcalls and decides it couldn't have been anything bad* It sounds like it's nothing. *looks up at her again* Tell me now, have I got a hope of getting that interview?
Gen: Honestly? I don't know. But at the very least, I can ask him what he would or wouldn't mind you knowing, and I can pass it along to you.
Reporter: *nods, pondering* What about pictures?
Bumblebee: *springs a leak*
Gen: o_o Eh... *un-subspaces a cloth and uses that to clean up* I wouldn't mind having my picture taken, but Dread might. Especially if they were taken without his knowledge.
Reporter: We wouldn't do that. It's against our policies. ...Erm, stupid question. Baby robots wet themselves?
Gen: *quirks an optic ridge* Does Prime dance?
Reporter: *blinks* *tries to picture the serious big bot doing so and fails* ...Does he?
Reporter: *sighs* Something tells me getting to talk to him would be a lot easier. But nobody wants to know about him.
Inferno: *yell from outside* I found another paparazzi! Can I paint him green?
Kup: NO
Inferno: ... Orange?
Kup: NO
Inferno: Glue paper all over him?
Kup: NO
Reporter: *reaches to touch Bumblebee's little head, totally shutting out the continued question and answer session* This isn't your little girl, is it?
Gen: No. Cali's with Dreadnought. Bumblebee's being raised by the entire base, mostly Jazz. And Dread's adopted her as a baby sister
Reporter: *nods* So she's... an orphan?
Bumblebee: *passed out hardcore now*
Inferno: *has progressed to calling the pound and dipping the guy in tar and feathers*
Gen: If she was, she isn't anymore. She does have a family. *is starting to look concerned over the outside convo*
Reporter: *accepts this, though the thought of parents being killed when their baby was just toddling bugs him as he thinks of his own toddler* She reminds me of my son. He's two, and starting to try and run the show.
Mikaela: *suddenly stridently adds her two cents worth and tells Inferno in no uncertain terms to leave Kup the #$%#@$@ alone*
Reporter: *hand instinctively toward the baby's ears.* 0_0 Who's that?
Gen: *tries not to think to hard about it, seeing as how she and Psych are orphans themselves* I hope Cali won't be this rambunctious when she gets older. And that would be Mikaela. She's training to be a medic under Ratchet
Reporter: She sounds human.... *looks up as Dreadnought strides in*
Dreadnought: *caught sad vibes from Gen. Gives reporter a look*
Gen: She is. *sends Dread reassurances and asks him to be nice to the reporter*
Dreadnought: -What did he do to you?- *rumbling and frowning*
Reporter: *greets him with a friendly smile that stays firmly in place despite the big mech's terse reply*
Gen: -Nothing. He's just asking a few harmless questions.- *gives him a reproachful look for the growling*
Dreadnought: *blinks and instinctively feels sheepish at her look* -I'm rumbling for Cali.-
Reporter: I should head back. Thanks for your time, Genetria, Dreadnought. *half holds out a hand to shake and then hesitates*
Gen: -Mmhmm. Yeah, right.- *sticks out her right index finger for him to shake*
Reporter: *looks relieved and shakes, then nods to Dreadnought and goes*
Dreadnought: *relaxes a bit, though he's still rumbling and Two's tail is lashing*
Gen: *sighs* Dreadnought...
Dreadnought: *settles to the floor and rubs his drone's ears* You're angry at me again?
Gen: *leans against him* Of course not.
Dreadnought: *his rumbling softens as he puts a hand on her back... and there's no sign of Caleendi, though he's using the quiet tone that he usually uses around her*
Gen: Even if I think you could try being nicer to some of the reporters. They just want to get to know you be- *stops, suddenly noticing the tone* Dready? Where's Cali?
Dreadnought: *points to one of his storage compartments as he frowns warily at her words* Sleeping.
Gen: o_o Are you sure that's safe?
Dreadnought: I do it with Bumblebee all the time. It's lined with towels.
Gen: Can I see? Or would that wake her?
Dreadnought: *carefully opens the panel on his side, to reveal one tiny foot poking out of the fluffy nest*
Gen: *leans in to better inspect it*
*towels are attached to the walls and top of the compartment, and others are folded carefully to make a soft and safe bed for a tiny bot. Caleendi is curled up, lulled by the sound of Dreadnought's engine and spark.*
Gen: ... think you have room for one more?
Dreadnought: *peers into the compartment, considering Bumblebee's usual reactions to Caleendi.* We'd have to take Cali out to get them both to fit.
Gen: Nevermind, then. I don't want to disturb either of them.
Dreadnought: *sends an order to the MCs for more towels as he shuts Caleendi's compartment and opens another, quickly pitching out the bits of stuff he had in there*
Gen: *stares for a bit, then pokes it* How many of those do you have?
Dreadnought: Four this size. *takes the towels as the MC arrives and then takes glue from another compartment beneath Caleendi's*
Gen: What were they for, originally?
Dreadnought: These are just pockets for storing whatever. But the two top ones are close to my spark, and the little ones like the sound. *waits till she's done looking*
Gen: Hmm. *leans back to give him room*
Dreadnought: *works carefully and quickly, making a bed identical to the other* These compartments don't shift when I change mode, either.
MC: *jabbering away about some music video or other and the lousy set up they'd had on the stage*
Gen: That's good. Though I hope you don't have a need to transform. *she waits until he's obviously done before placing Bee in the compartment*
Dreadnought: *gently pokes the loose toweling around the bitty femme, then watches her for a moment as she snuggles into the familiar bed with tiny squeaks* Transforming doesn't worry me. I hope I never have to fight with them on board. *shuts the compartment carefully and turns his optics toward his mate* What did the organic want?
Gen: *moves in for a hug* Just to get to know you better. The people of this planet think of you as a hero.
Dreadnought: *puts both arms around her, his rumbling soft and deep as he considers her words* I've seen what they do to their heroes. I won't let them do that to you.
Gen: Why? What do you think will happen?
Dreadnought: *relays to her mob scenes of fans trying to get near someone they like; of politicians riding in bullet proof cages; of Yoko Ono all alone after her husband was shot....*
Gen: *shivers and presses closer* There's... there's always the Nexus if I need to get away for a while.
Dreadnought: *Rumbling gets a bit edgy as he lifts her slightly and leans over her protectively* You shouldn't have to hide.
Gen: Neither should you.
Dreadnought: *puzzled, thinking of hiding as disappearing into the Nexus* I'm not.
Gen: *gives him a slight poke* Yes, you are. You hardly talk to anyone outside of a small group of people, and you've been refusing to let any of the reporters get to know you. You might not be hiding physically, but you are emotionally.
Dreadnought: *more puzzled, though trying hard to understand this. He's doing what he's always done.... But she wants something different?*
Sureshot: *steps in, excited* Dreadnought, you have to.... *stops as his older friend puts up a hand, then looks back and forth between Dreadnought and Gen* I'll get a holo. *goes back out*
Gen: *drops her voice so no-one could listen in* I know this is ironic, coming from me, but at least try to be more open? Please?
Dreadnought: *tenses instinctively at the thought* If I speak to those organics it might bring danger to you, Caleendi, and Psych. Humans purport to dislike killing, and I was created to kill. They should focus on 'heroes' more to their liking. *he's not refusing outright, he's presenting arguments*
Gen: You don't have to answer those questions, if you think they're that dangerous. But some of the others, like hobbies or family, seem harmless enough.
Dreadnought: ...This is important to you. *millions of years of caution and being a loner are rising up and growling at him*
Gen: That, and it gets me out of trying to answer for you. *she looks up and gives him a teasing smile*
Dreadnought: *nods as her words confirm what he said* You don't need to answer. *ponders 'hobby' and rejects the thought of talking about his book collection. Decides he has no hobbies*
Gen: *she feels that, and he's not getting away with it* What about those book chips? Or that poem you wrote? Or taking care of the sparklings?
Dreadnought: *flash of outright horror and revulsion at the thought of sharing that poem.* ...Caring for the little ones is part of being a member of a family.
Gen: Okay, just mention reading. And I think they'll warm to you if they knew you were a family mech.
Dreadnought: *thinks he understands* If I seem less threatening they'll feel less need to be threatening.
Gen: *nods* Mmhmm
Dreadnought: *this makes sense to him, and he thinks it over as he gently rubs her back. The thought of people wanting to hurt his family if they find out about them makes him bristle, but he can feel Gen's conviction that he should do this.*
Gen: You don't have to go out and do it right away. Just think about it.
Dreadnought: *nods slowly, pondering the fact that he's no longer the mech that no one wants to be near because they fear what he can do*
Hot Rod: *peeks in* We have a movie. Do you guys want to come watch it?
Dreadnought: *frowns at him absently*
Hot Rod: *grins his undaunted grin and holds up the case to show the title... yes, the young Autobots are in danger of running afoul of Monty Python's grail quest*
Gen: *peers at the title* "Monty Python"? What's that?
Psych: *appears seemingly out of nowhere* Holy Grail? *grins* I'm game.
Hot Rod: *grin widens* It's supposed to be funny.
Dreadnought: ... funny. Yeah. Like Psych thinks he's funny?
Hot Rod: Hey, you still quote that guy from 'Princess Bride'.
Dreadnought: That's a good line.
Psych: *too busy looking at ze movie to banter*
Dreadnoght: *looks down at his mate, emoting a question* -Your glitchy brother likes it.-
Sureshot and Slingshot: *in the hallway, laughing as they go past* Run away!
Gen: -It could be fun. And if not, we can always leave.-
Dreadnought: -Like usual. And maybe someone will glue Slingshot down again.- *yes, once he'd gotten over the surprise, the sight of the rambunctious and annoying Arielbot helplessly stuck to the couch had amused him. Especially after he'd turned Bumblebee loose on him*
Gen: -...Again?-
Dreadnought: -Wasn't it funny?-
Psych: -I thought it was.-
Dreadnought: *snorts at him as he sets Gen down and gets to his feet*
Psych: *walks over and wraps his arms around Gen* -Hey, you laughed, too.-
Dreadnought: *not nearly as grim as he's coming across outwardly* So?
Slingshot: Run away!
*CLANG!*
Skydive and Air Raid: Quick, get the dead antidote!
Fireflight: ... He's not dead!
Dreadnought: *thinks he better get out there before the kids start a riot. But still pauses to wait for Gen.*
Psych: But he's almost dead.
Fireflight: *starts to cry*
Dreadnought: *growls and takes a swat at his brother in law's head*
Psych: *attempts to dodge* What? I thought we were quoting!
Sky Dive: We were. He's fine, really, look. *pokes him*
Slingshot: OUCH!
Dreadnought: You made her cry, you glitch.
Gen: He didn't mean to.
Dreadnought: -I know. I just haven't hit him lately.- *actually feeling rather content. And not very intent on actually scoring a wap*
Gen: *gives Dready a look*
Dreadnought: *smiles at her, brown optics soft and full of affection*
Hot Rod: Dreadnought just gave Gen puppy dog optics! *runs off toward the rec room laughing*
Gen: *fights back a smile; "woogie" optics tend to look out of place on Dreadnought*
Dreadnought: *also sends her a wash of of love over their bond*
Sureshot: *looks through the door* I'm turning it on!
Gen: *the smile wins*
Psych: *rolls his optics and nudges Gen* Come on, let's go, or we'll miss the opening credits.
Dreadnought: -Stay back for a minute.- *thinking of kisses*
*both catch onto that thought*
Psych: *sighs and gives Gen a light push to Dready before leaving for the movie* Have fun, you two.
Dreadnought: *hunkers down and offers her his hand, slightly distracted as one of the bittybots stirs and squeaks.*
Gen: *looks at where the squeak came from* -Who was that?-
Dreadnought: Cali talkin' in her sleep. *his deep voice and his spark are full of affection for his new daughter*
Gen: Imagine once she starts using words...
Dreadnought: As long as she doesn't start with Kup's favorites like Bumble is. *pulls his mate close and lays his cheek on her helm, kisses forgotten in favor of cuddles*
Sky Dive: ...You're sitting on Gen and Dreadnought's couch. Do you want to be squashed?
Slingshot: They snooze they lose!
Gen: *sighs and returns the cuddles* How is it that children always manage to pick up on the words you don't want them to?
Dreadnought: ...They do? *blink*
Silverbolt: *jumps on his brother and punts him off the couch*
Gen: *nods* Doesn't matter what species, if there's foul language, the children will learn it. Even if they don't know what it means.
Dreadnought: That's... not good. *he has no idea*
Slingshot: What the slag was that for? Die, jerk!
Silverbolt: I was trying to save you from getting on Dreadnought's bad side!
Hot Rod: The bottom of his foot?
Skydive: Shut up; look at these freaky credits. What the slag is this about?
Dreadnought: *sigh* Should we go slap them into shape?
Gen: *nods again* It's like they think we can't hear them
Dreadnought: *offers to swoop her up off her feet* -You think they're actually thinking?-
Gen: *is starting to get used to being carried* -One would hope.-
Dreadnought: *snorts as he swoops her out of the room*
((co-written with silenceandpsych))