heavyweaponsbot: (We are not amused)
... Why are the birds speaking.

[Ironhide can be found sitting outside of his artichoke pod and casually throwing rocks at one of the aforementioned birds in irritation.

The bird does not shut up.]
heavyweaponsbot: (Let's do this thing.)
[Today finds Ironhide prowling the temple grounds.]

[He's trying to decide whether or not to head inside -- as instructed. Does he go in and demand his cannons back? Or does he stay out here and purposefully ignore the summons in order to make a point?]

[Ironhide ends up standing in front of the temple, his arms folded, and scowling. He has sand in his joints, his chest is aching, and he feels like he's been strung along by their captors. They should have been told about what they were facing. And they weren't -- not one bit. He's extremely cranky, in other words.]

[Approach him?]
heavyweaponsbot: (OH FUCK MY LIFE)
[Sand in his joints, a gaping hole in his chest, no medic, no other Autobots, no way home... a tiny rodent following him around everywhere...

And now.

Snow.]

...

I hate this place.

[The big Autobot is standing in front of his pod, kicking his feet, and trying to shake the snow out of gaps in his armor, shuddering all the while.]
heavyweaponsbot: (Action pose go!)
-- Eugh! Filthy... wretched...! Off me!

[Well. Anyone who was wondering where the hell Ironhide went off to, look no further for your answer. There are crashing sounds as the big Autobot tears his way out of the jungle. Underbrush is trampled, trees actually punched -- despite the fact that it doesn't really help matters.]

Where is that energon...

[He does sound displeased, more so than usual. Tramping around the jungle, getting stuck, and deprived of fuel for a long while doesn't do wonders for the old 'Bot's temper. And the rain isn't helping matters.]

I hate this place.
heavyweaponsbot: (Give me the strength)
... If it does not stop being wet and damp in here, I am going to rust. Or be forced to watch my joints seize up. Or let my systems run so low, they become virus-ridden.

This is stupid.

[He knows he sounds sulky, but right now, he doesn't care. Stupid boat.]

Is this foolishness going to continue every time the weather changes?
heavyweaponsbot: (FLAWLESS.  VICTORY.)
Unless there is anyone with a useful proposal for my time, I will be occupied on deck six.

[Punching bees: what giant robots do in their downtime, kids. Of course, he won't come right out and say this.]

I grow tired of individuals who are too incompetent to work a simple communications device.

Hmnf!
heavyweaponsbot: (Give me the strength)
...

What... Hmn.

If... one... were keeping... a creature... hypothetically. How... would one... keep it functional?

[Grumbles to himself for a minute - the words aren't distinguishable, but it's obvious he's just... annoyed he has to ask this question, and eager to move on to another topic.]

I was informed that if we have something... broken... in our rooms... we were to report it. I am reporting it.

Someone repair this thing before I trip over it. Again.

[Another pause]

Mikaela. You all right?
heavyweaponsbot: (Truth will show)
I begin to loathe this boat nearly as much as aircraft... Going to rust in all this... damp.

Need something to keep from stiffening up. Some sort of exercise... Only so many times I can drive around these decks. Unlike some, I do not enjoy poking holes in turf, or studying these yellow creatures all day.

Hmnf.

Open to... suggestion.

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Ironhide

June 2014

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