Armada 'verse. Team headquarters. Crackers
Ironhide: *back from growling at Oceanglide in the Nexus. He sets down several boxes containing small hard cakes of flavored calcien and energon, then selects one cake from the box marked 'pickle flavor' and goes to sit in an out of the way corner as he chews and broods*
Cliffjumper: *pokes her head in to make sure there aren't any bureaucrats around, then relaxes and edges inside. Her visor brightens as she nods to the Autobot* Hello, Joe.
Ironhide: *glances at her, his expression slightly sullen. Then nods to the boxes on the table* I brought fuel. Didn't feel like going to the other place for cubes.
Cliffjumper: Oh, great. Thank you! *she'd be smiling at him if she could, but her visor dims with concern as she watches him* How are you feeling?
Ironhide: *shrugs* Drunk.
Cliffjumper: *chuckles slightly, still suspecting something's up* ...Is... something the matter?
Ironhide: *thinks about it, the hand holding the pickle biscuit dropping as he continues to chew the bit in his mouth* I met Oceanglide in the Nexus.
Cliffjumper: Oh... he went there again? *She's only seen it once, on her insistence, and she hasn't had time to come to terms with its existence yet*
Ironhide: Yeah. Over by that sign. *scowls and has another bite of pickle biscuit*
Cliffjumper: The question one? It did seem like an interesting place...
Ironhide: *nods as he moodily finishes his biscuit, his mind on the fact that he'd nearly be willing to give up feeling again if the memories would also be guaranteed to slag off too* *then lifts his head slightly and scans to see if he can locate the rest of the team*
*Waterlog and Stormcloud aren't in range - maybe off shadowing their captain or kicking up trouble in an alley somewhere. Ironhide, too, is absent, though Armorhide's handling long-distance negotiations with someone on a comm-call. Nightscream is easy to find. He's the one taking apart their entire storage bay to see if he can find that datadisk he packed somewhere.*
Ironhide: *snorts when he detects the black bot, and then pings him* //There's fresh energy, runt.//
Nightscream: //Who're you calling a runt, rusty?// *hops off a crate mountain, picking his way through the disarray as he seeks out this energy*
Ironhide: //You, runt.// *remembers Cliffjumper and looks back toward her*
Nightscream: *responds with something he probably just made up*
Ironhide: *surprises himself by rumbling a gruff laugh, the first he's made since arriving here that actually meant humor*
Cliffjumper: *has moved over to look through the selection, whistling with interest* So... Oceanglide's answering strangers' questions? *She doesn't look up as she asks, though she's curious about that strange image. She works with Oceanglide, but she doesn't claim to understand him. Trust, yes. Maybe. Understand... no.*
Ironhide: No. He was asking questions. *snort* And writing poetry. Throw me a salt ham biscuit?
Cliffjumper: Oh... *looks for the 'salt ham' ones and chucks him one* What... kind of questions? *She's slightly afraid to ask.*
Ironhide: *sniffs at the little cake and then rumbles at it as he takes a bite* Something about racial loyalty or some such slag.
Cliffjumper: *freezes for a moment, hand in the box, and then hurriedly focuses on the different flavours.* O-oh. I see. *hey, this pack is totally more interesting than the others!*
Ironhide: *shrugs a shoulder and looks to see where Nightscream is*
Nightscream: *is breaking awkward silences, w00t!* All right, where's the energy?
Ironhide: Captain, will you throw him a 'hot pepper' one? *munches and scowls absently as he watches his noisy small friend*
Cliffjumper: *obligingly roots one out*
Nightscream: *catches it and frowns* What is it?
Ironhide: Energon and calcien. Flavored. *puts the rest of his into his mouth, musing that he probably should have bought the smaller size instead since the rest of his teammates are only around human height*
Nightscream: *breaking off a piece and getting a whiff through his chemoreceptors* What kinda flavour?
Ironhide: Some fake organic slag. *gets up and goes over to the table to look through the boxes himself. Wants a 'caramel' biscuit*
Cliffjumper: *still dithering, half her mind elsewhere even though she'd rather it wasn't*
Nightscream: *shrugs and devours the biscuit piece*
Ironhide: *watches Nightscream to see what the little bot thinks of 'hot pepper'*
Nightscream: *doesn't seem very impressed... for about ten seconds*
Ironhide: *finds the caramel biscuits and bites into one* What do you think, runt?
Nightscream: *and now is the boggling* *distinctly raspy* FRAG?
Ironhide: Oh yeah. That one's called 'hot pepper'. It's supposed to taste just like something organics eat. *munches his sweet biscuit*
Nightscream: ...Organics eat POISON?
Ironhide: *snort* You're trying to tell me that's going to kill you? *reaches to take the rest of the biscuit from him*
Nightscream: What it TASTES like! *scrabbling to find some absorbent sand or something*
Cliffjumper: Oo I'm sure it's not- how does it feel? Nightscream?
Ironhide: *drops the caramel biscuit on Nightscream, and then holds the pepper one down by Cliffjumper after taking a bite himself*
Nightscream: *will try anything right now - breaks off a piece of biscuit number two to throw into the mix*
Cliffjumper: Um... thanks, but I'm not... so sure. *eying Nightscream*
Ironhide: *continues munching* It's not that bad.
Nightscream: :I
Cliffjumper: *to him* You're sure you're OK?
Ironhide: *leaves the pepper biscuit by Cliffjumper after having another bite, then sets a pickle one and a salt ham one near the two little bots as well*
Nightscream: *grumble* Sure, I'm fine. Just tastes like someone shoved a firebomb down my tanks
Cliffjumper: Well, I guess I might as well be a bit adventurous, right? ^_^ *pepper it is!*
Ironhide: *watches, then winces slightly as something in his tank explodes softly*
Nightscream: *yup, she's gonna regret that* *smirk and more eating of caramel-flavour*
Cliffjumper: *mulls it over for a minute or two* Woah.
Ironhide: *hunkers down, exploding again in the process* Whoa?
Cliffjumper: ^^ You're right. It's not bad. *let's have some more!*
Nightscream: Oo ...
Ironhide: *rumbles a chuckle and offers her a scrap of pickle flavor to go with her pepper* Try mixing the two.
Cliffjumper: OK... *curiously experimenting*
Nightscream: What the slag did they make your tanks with, solid lead?
Ironhide: *gives him an amused look, which then turns to slight embarrassment as the old Autobot finds himself backfiring* *sits down to the chorus of more tank explosions*
Cliffjumper: *worried look* More importantly, are Joe's all right?
Ironhide: *looks up from digging through the salt ham biscuit box* Huh?
Nightscream: *gives the impression of an eye roll* Something's wrong with your tanks again.
Ironhide: *snorts and returns to his biscuit box ransacking* There's nothing wrong with my tanks.
Nightscream: No, they just sound like Fetch having a fight with a firecracker.
Ironhide: *as another muffled boom makes something on his frame rattle* I mixed a Chromia with some green slag that you set on fire. *munches the biscuit that he decides looks the most interesting, thus adding something else to the mix*
Stormcloud: *strolling in* What's the word... bots? *he sounds cheerful. Almost... polite.*
Ironhide: *backfires again*
Stormcloud: *relatively mild snort* Yeah, anyone got something smarter to tell?
Ironhide: *lightly chucks a piece of pepper biscuit at him*
Stormcloud: *optics flicker just a sec before he snatches it out of the air* What's this?
Ironhide: Ask the captain. *finally finds what he was looking for and holds out a new package of pop rocks to Nightscream*
Cliffjumper: *while Nightscream's accepting that 'peace offering'* It's a new kind of fuel. It's pretty good! ...Um, and Oceanglide's in the Nexus.
Ironhide: *and then offers a small package wrapped in tissue to Cliffjumper*
Cliffjumper: *looks surprised as she takes it and unwraps carefully*
Stormcloud: *shrugging* Yeah, there's a lot of business to take care of there.
Ironhide: *watching Cliffjumper uncover a tiny jeweled ornament backed by a magnet strong enough to hold it in place without bothering anything inside her shell* Like writing poetry.
Stormcloud: *oh, there's s hint of sneer with his snigger* You got a point?
Ironhide: *busy watching Cliffjumper*
Cliffjumper: *tilting her head, visor flickering and brightening as she takes it out and turns it over* Why- where'd you get this?
Ironhide: At the bar. Mech was giving them out as prizes in his poker game.
Cliffjumper: It's beautiful - I, um. Thank you.
Nightscream: *eying Stormcloud* So he's that type, huh?
Stormcloud: Didn't think our captain had it in him? *smirk*
Ironhide: *rumble* You're welcome. *turns his attention to Nightscream* //He was asking stupid questions, too.//
Nightscream: No, that just about fits with his scary-aft rep. //What kinda questions?//
Stormcloud: *laughs and sets to the biscuit* Art's business. Oceanglide's business.
Ironhide: *eyes the Seacon and waits to see his opinion of pepper* //Slag questions.// *recites a snatch of poetry he overheard, in perfectly accented Minicon*
Stormcloud: *makes a static-like hiccup, surprised at food and Autobot alike* Yeah, like that. *ugh, but in Minicon? Glide's really slumming it*
Cliffjumper: *looks up, distracted from her present by the need to be polite* Um, that's nice poetry... *and very well-delivered...*
Nightscream: Wouldn't know. //Slag he shouldn't be asking?//
Ironhide: //No idea. I wasn't really paying attention.// *BURP* *so much for good presentation*
((Written with sole_captain))
Cliffjumper: *pokes her head in to make sure there aren't any bureaucrats around, then relaxes and edges inside. Her visor brightens as she nods to the Autobot* Hello, Joe.
Ironhide: *glances at her, his expression slightly sullen. Then nods to the boxes on the table* I brought fuel. Didn't feel like going to the other place for cubes.
Cliffjumper: Oh, great. Thank you! *she'd be smiling at him if she could, but her visor dims with concern as she watches him* How are you feeling?
Ironhide: *shrugs* Drunk.
Cliffjumper: *chuckles slightly, still suspecting something's up* ...Is... something the matter?
Ironhide: *thinks about it, the hand holding the pickle biscuit dropping as he continues to chew the bit in his mouth* I met Oceanglide in the Nexus.
Cliffjumper: Oh... he went there again? *She's only seen it once, on her insistence, and she hasn't had time to come to terms with its existence yet*
Ironhide: Yeah. Over by that sign. *scowls and has another bite of pickle biscuit*
Cliffjumper: The question one? It did seem like an interesting place...
Ironhide: *nods as he moodily finishes his biscuit, his mind on the fact that he'd nearly be willing to give up feeling again if the memories would also be guaranteed to slag off too* *then lifts his head slightly and scans to see if he can locate the rest of the team*
*Waterlog and Stormcloud aren't in range - maybe off shadowing their captain or kicking up trouble in an alley somewhere. Ironhide, too, is absent, though Armorhide's handling long-distance negotiations with someone on a comm-call. Nightscream is easy to find. He's the one taking apart their entire storage bay to see if he can find that datadisk he packed somewhere.*
Ironhide: *snorts when he detects the black bot, and then pings him* //There's fresh energy, runt.//
Nightscream: //Who're you calling a runt, rusty?// *hops off a crate mountain, picking his way through the disarray as he seeks out this energy*
Ironhide: //You, runt.// *remembers Cliffjumper and looks back toward her*
Nightscream: *responds with something he probably just made up*
Ironhide: *surprises himself by rumbling a gruff laugh, the first he's made since arriving here that actually meant humor*
Cliffjumper: *has moved over to look through the selection, whistling with interest* So... Oceanglide's answering strangers' questions? *She doesn't look up as she asks, though she's curious about that strange image. She works with Oceanglide, but she doesn't claim to understand him. Trust, yes. Maybe. Understand... no.*
Ironhide: No. He was asking questions. *snort* And writing poetry. Throw me a salt ham biscuit?
Cliffjumper: Oh... *looks for the 'salt ham' ones and chucks him one* What... kind of questions? *She's slightly afraid to ask.*
Ironhide: *sniffs at the little cake and then rumbles at it as he takes a bite* Something about racial loyalty or some such slag.
Cliffjumper: *freezes for a moment, hand in the box, and then hurriedly focuses on the different flavours.* O-oh. I see. *hey, this pack is totally more interesting than the others!*
Ironhide: *shrugs a shoulder and looks to see where Nightscream is*
Nightscream: *is breaking awkward silences, w00t!* All right, where's the energy?
Ironhide: Captain, will you throw him a 'hot pepper' one? *munches and scowls absently as he watches his noisy small friend*
Cliffjumper: *obligingly roots one out*
Nightscream: *catches it and frowns* What is it?
Ironhide: Energon and calcien. Flavored. *puts the rest of his into his mouth, musing that he probably should have bought the smaller size instead since the rest of his teammates are only around human height*
Nightscream: *breaking off a piece and getting a whiff through his chemoreceptors* What kinda flavour?
Ironhide: Some fake organic slag. *gets up and goes over to the table to look through the boxes himself. Wants a 'caramel' biscuit*
Cliffjumper: *still dithering, half her mind elsewhere even though she'd rather it wasn't*
Nightscream: *shrugs and devours the biscuit piece*
Ironhide: *watches Nightscream to see what the little bot thinks of 'hot pepper'*
Nightscream: *doesn't seem very impressed... for about ten seconds*
Ironhide: *finds the caramel biscuits and bites into one* What do you think, runt?
Nightscream: *and now is the boggling* *distinctly raspy* FRAG?
Ironhide: Oh yeah. That one's called 'hot pepper'. It's supposed to taste just like something organics eat. *munches his sweet biscuit*
Nightscream: ...Organics eat POISON?
Ironhide: *snort* You're trying to tell me that's going to kill you? *reaches to take the rest of the biscuit from him*
Nightscream: What it TASTES like! *scrabbling to find some absorbent sand or something*
Cliffjumper: Oo I'm sure it's not- how does it feel? Nightscream?
Ironhide: *drops the caramel biscuit on Nightscream, and then holds the pepper one down by Cliffjumper after taking a bite himself*
Nightscream: *will try anything right now - breaks off a piece of biscuit number two to throw into the mix*
Cliffjumper: Um... thanks, but I'm not... so sure. *eying Nightscream*
Ironhide: *continues munching* It's not that bad.
Nightscream: :I
Cliffjumper: *to him* You're sure you're OK?
Ironhide: *leaves the pepper biscuit by Cliffjumper after having another bite, then sets a pickle one and a salt ham one near the two little bots as well*
Nightscream: *grumble* Sure, I'm fine. Just tastes like someone shoved a firebomb down my tanks
Cliffjumper: Well, I guess I might as well be a bit adventurous, right? ^_^ *pepper it is!*
Ironhide: *watches, then winces slightly as something in his tank explodes softly*
Nightscream: *yup, she's gonna regret that* *smirk and more eating of caramel-flavour*
Cliffjumper: *mulls it over for a minute or two* Woah.
Ironhide: *hunkers down, exploding again in the process* Whoa?
Cliffjumper: ^^ You're right. It's not bad. *let's have some more!*
Nightscream: Oo ...
Ironhide: *rumbles a chuckle and offers her a scrap of pickle flavor to go with her pepper* Try mixing the two.
Cliffjumper: OK... *curiously experimenting*
Nightscream: What the slag did they make your tanks with, solid lead?
Ironhide: *gives him an amused look, which then turns to slight embarrassment as the old Autobot finds himself backfiring* *sits down to the chorus of more tank explosions*
Cliffjumper: *worried look* More importantly, are Joe's all right?
Ironhide: *looks up from digging through the salt ham biscuit box* Huh?
Nightscream: *gives the impression of an eye roll* Something's wrong with your tanks again.
Ironhide: *snorts and returns to his biscuit box ransacking* There's nothing wrong with my tanks.
Nightscream: No, they just sound like Fetch having a fight with a firecracker.
Ironhide: *as another muffled boom makes something on his frame rattle* I mixed a Chromia with some green slag that you set on fire. *munches the biscuit that he decides looks the most interesting, thus adding something else to the mix*
Stormcloud: *strolling in* What's the word... bots? *he sounds cheerful. Almost... polite.*
Ironhide: *backfires again*
Stormcloud: *relatively mild snort* Yeah, anyone got something smarter to tell?
Ironhide: *lightly chucks a piece of pepper biscuit at him*
Stormcloud: *optics flicker just a sec before he snatches it out of the air* What's this?
Ironhide: Ask the captain. *finally finds what he was looking for and holds out a new package of pop rocks to Nightscream*
Cliffjumper: *while Nightscream's accepting that 'peace offering'* It's a new kind of fuel. It's pretty good! ...Um, and Oceanglide's in the Nexus.
Ironhide: *and then offers a small package wrapped in tissue to Cliffjumper*
Cliffjumper: *looks surprised as she takes it and unwraps carefully*
Stormcloud: *shrugging* Yeah, there's a lot of business to take care of there.
Ironhide: *watching Cliffjumper uncover a tiny jeweled ornament backed by a magnet strong enough to hold it in place without bothering anything inside her shell* Like writing poetry.
Stormcloud: *oh, there's s hint of sneer with his snigger* You got a point?
Ironhide: *busy watching Cliffjumper*
Cliffjumper: *tilting her head, visor flickering and brightening as she takes it out and turns it over* Why- where'd you get this?
Ironhide: At the bar. Mech was giving them out as prizes in his poker game.
Cliffjumper: It's beautiful - I, um. Thank you.
Nightscream: *eying Stormcloud* So he's that type, huh?
Stormcloud: Didn't think our captain had it in him? *smirk*
Ironhide: *rumble* You're welcome. *turns his attention to Nightscream* //He was asking stupid questions, too.//
Nightscream: No, that just about fits with his scary-aft rep. //What kinda questions?//
Stormcloud: *laughs and sets to the biscuit* Art's business. Oceanglide's business.
Ironhide: *eyes the Seacon and waits to see his opinion of pepper* //Slag questions.// *recites a snatch of poetry he overheard, in perfectly accented Minicon*
Stormcloud: *makes a static-like hiccup, surprised at food and Autobot alike* Yeah, like that. *ugh, but in Minicon? Glide's really slumming it*
Cliffjumper: *looks up, distracted from her present by the need to be polite* Um, that's nice poetry... *and very well-delivered...*
Nightscream: Wouldn't know. //Slag he shouldn't be asking?//
Ironhide: //No idea. I wasn't really paying attention.// *BURP* *so much for good presentation*
((Written with sole_captain))