Welcome back my friend, to the show that never ends...

[attair_al_fada]

After wandering around the Nexus, checking out Transformers that had turned up in various states of disarray ranging from "lost" to "LOL'd and possessed", Starscream's aimless wanderings brought him to the portal leading to Pyro's Bar. The shiny, like-new F-22 Transformer stared at the portal like he suspected it of containing Megatron lurking in

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[doc_ratchet]

By this time, most of the excitable crowd that had absorbed Ratchet into its midst has thinned out, dispersing to their own devices. He should be heading out to Metroplex, to find Wheeljack and Perceptor, but there is still just a bit of unfinished business to wrap up before he restarts his life. He's waiting.

Rather, he's stalling, if he were being honest with himself. He's scared to go back, scared of what he'll find. Of what he wont find. He misses them, Wheeljack with that deep ache of actually missing something - the bond - and Perceptor with sweet longing. Not many mechs get a second chance. Not like this. A whole new life. A fresh start. A chance to do right all those things he screwed up over the eons. It's almost too large to wrap his processor around, even with what he's seen through all this.

Dammit. Where the slag is Starscream? Stupid slagger. When Ratchet wants him around to distract him from all this stuff, the slagger's late. He orders another round just as the door behind him opens

[attair_al_fada]

Oh slag. He really was here. Starscream looks around for Skyfire, ruby optics glinting as his gaze darts around the room, looks for his big white pillar of moral support--and doesn't find him.

For one instant, Starscream almost panics and bolts back the way he came. After flailing for a moment, he calms himself and lowers his hands.

It's Ratchet, not Megatron! I'm the Air Commander, not the Stupid Commander. His hands still twist and turn, reflecting their owner's unease.

"It's not my fault the Nexus is such a busy place," Starscream replies, wincing internally at the shrillness that had crept into his voice. Damnit, he's NOT Megatron! He's not going to shove a fusion cannon in my cockpit!"...and it's perverse like that squishy Murphy," he continued in a more normal voice. Normal for Starscream, that is. "If you're in a hurry to get somewhere, a dozen long-lost Transformers in trouble will inevitably show up, along with Auspex, and, lately, Autobot medics named Ratchet

[doc_ratchet]

Ratchet snorts, nodding. "Or you get tackled by overly enthusiastic young Seekers and transfer enough paint to the floor to detail a tank. Yeah," he agrees, casually sliding a cube across the bar to Starscream.

"Still in one piece," he observes after giving the Air Commander a long once-over. "Kudos to Skyfire. I can't even tell where the repairs are." Because it's Starscream and Ratchet has been gone for more than ten minutes. Of course there will have been repairs.

[attair_al_fada]

Starscream doesn't quite twitch as the cube slides his way. It's him, but from when? He's still willing to drink with me...

He gingerly picks up the cube and swirls it around. "I missed Strata and Photon? Damn! I trust they are still in one piece as well?" Starscream half smirks and adds, "Or are we talking about some other enthusiastic young Seekers? The Aerialcrons, perhaps? Wingblade?"

The late Air Commander glanced at himself. "Well, I didn't give him anything too difficult to fix. Corsairs just aren't in the same class as multi-million-year-old veterans of the Great War."

Whether Starscream is referring to himself, or his Autobot opponents, or his Decepticon rivals is an exercise for the listener to determine.

He takes a slow sip of the drink. "You look... well."