51st Transmission - Action

[heavyweaponsbot]

[Today, the Elegante will be graced with a roaming, restless Autobot. He starts out up on the top deck, practicing combat drills. There's only so much he can do just hitting bees. Granted, he is working alone, but it's better than nothing. He'll be up there, rolling, running, and punching at the air for several hours before heading out.

Next stop is Deck 12, to gather up more scrap metal. He's there for about half an hour, rooting around, finding things like staples, jewelry and the like.

Lastly, he goes to the bar for a refueling. Which he will sit and drink slowly, scowling at the general area around him. Despite feeling somewhat accomplished, he's also feeling stiff from the workout, and that, inevitably, makes him grouchy.

Approach?]


((ooc: Open to anyone at any point!))

Comments

[heavyweaponsbot]

[And an answer that makes utterly no sense to him. He frowns, and makes a scoffing sound.]

What? You hunt Decepticons? I find that unlikely.

[deadtous.livejournal.com]

[She gives him a very impatient glare and huffs. The exhale whistles through her teeth more than she'd intended, and Moonie taps the bar.]

Did I say what I hunted? Did you say who you -- you just did, didn't you. I don't know your Decepticons.

[heavyweaponsbot]

[He makes an amused sort of grunt.]

That is what we fight, back home. That is why we have front-liners. Not sure about...

[He gestures in her direction.] Whatever you are.

[deadtous.livejournal.com]

[HE JUST GESTURED TO ALL OF HER.

Moonie scowls, blessing him with her middle claw/finger/knuckle protrusion.]

Tracker is the word you're looking for, metal man. Use your imagination for what we track.

[heavyweaponsbot]

[NOT HARD WHEN YOU'RE HUGE LIKE HIM.

He ignores the gesture, regarding her with an even stare.]

How should I know what it is you track? I doubt you come from my world.

[deadtous.livejournal.com]

[Moonie hasn't properly digested the 'alternate realities' bit yet, finding it tough meat to swallow. It shows in the deepening frown lines on her brow.]

I'm not ready to believe THAT fairy tale. [muttered.]

No imagination, why aren't I surprised. Which country spawned you? All Spark has to come from someplace!

[heavyweaponsbot]

[Ironhide just folds his arms over his chest, glowering down at her. He's not nearly had enough to drink to deal with this.]

Cybertron. It came from Cybertron. Another planet entirely. In another galaxy. You want coordinates? Digital imaging of the last time I saw my homeworld? A full biography?

[deadtous.livejournal.com]

[Moonie is a very nosy, very loud woman, exceptionally so when she's unhappy. She is not happy. Okay, sure, she's not living in a cell anymore, but a boat full of crazy English-speaking people and giant robots.

... Giant. Robots.

Disgruntled, she slaps the bar.]

I see how it is. What's your name, then, hails-from-Cybertron?

[heavyweaponsbot]

[Ironhide can be a very loud, very cranky old mech. He watches her smack the bar, before stomping his foot.

Two can play at this game.]

Ironhide. Your designation, hails-from-wherever?

[deadtous.livejournal.com]

[Oh my god they are so mature.

Moonie startles at the picture a foot-stomping robot makes, but smacks the bar AGAIN to hide it, louder than before.]

... Moonie.

[She hates the name. She shoots him a warning leer.]

[heavyweaponsbot]

[And he stomps his foot again. Mostly because hitting things would break things.]

... That it?

[He appears supremely unimpressed.]

ARNhaid

[deadtous.livejournal.com]

[Moonie decides to stop this childish banging and stomping and wrinkles her nose, sniffing in a superior sort of way. She sits up in full.]

Brandt, you sack of rusted bolts. Ortrun Brandt.

[Proper German names. Why you gotta call your daughter something so weird and non-Euro, daddy? Why you gotta do that?]

ARNhaid

[heavyweaponsbot]

[He can do that too. Only it's more of a snort and a glower. This has become more of an "anything you can do" situation.]

That name means nothing to me.

[deadtous.livejournal.com]

[Anything she can do, he can do... bigger. There's no getting around that. Moonie is distantly aware of how ridiculous they're being.]

Not as original as yours, no. Your All Spark must be very creative indeed.

[heavyweaponsbot]

[Bigger and louder. While he may be aware of the ridiculousness, he doesn't seem to care.]

You have no idea.

[deadtous.livejournal.com]

[She's starting to sulk. Everyone knows or thinks they know more than her on the boat, and it's left Moonie feeling rather put out.]

So why does Ironhide think we're on this ship, hm?

[heavyweaponsbot]

[He grunts, shrugging huge shoulders.]

I do not care why we were brought here, only that we go home, and quickly.

[deadtous.livejournal.com]

[Moonie's not sure which she wants or if home is what she wants to return to. Run and keep running for the rest of her life, or shove her thumbs up her ass and wait to be put down. Gee, what a dilemma.

So she rocks back onto her hands, going from a crouch to cross-legged lounging.]

Useless metal man. Shoo.

[heavyweaponsbot]

[And, of course, he simply stands there, watching her. His expression somewhat amused.

Why should he shoo? She is tiny.]