17th Transmission

[heavyweaponsbot]

... so this is what we recieve from our captors, hmn? A reminder of all we have been taken from?

Hmpf. Foolish. Should just leave us be.

[Ironhide is still in the bar, for all interested parties, where it's warm and he's left relatively alone. Or so he believes. He's currently hunched up in a corner, being a brooding black lump. One of the picture-type gifts from the tree is in his hand, and if anyone approaches they may get a brief look at what it is.]

Comments

[wild-steed.livejournal.com]

[Bashiyra is quite content as she walks about the ship, striking up conversations with all she meets along the way. Braided into her hair are several green and red ribbons, her own gift from under the tree. They had been given to her from her human family when she was young, and it made her happy to see the bits of cloth again.

Oh, my. Is that some kind of giant robot? A giant, depressed-looking robot? She approaches.]

Hey, are you okay? Is something wrong?

[heavyweaponsbot]

[He looks up, sharply, his good optic narrowing. His hand covers the photo quite abruptly, moving it closer toward him as metal creaks with the motion. Had he left the device on again?]

... It is snowing indoors. What do you think?

[chopshopgoddess.livejournal.com]

I...I kinda like it.

[Hers is a picture of her, her dad and Sam from last Christmas.]

[heavyweaponsbot]

... you are allowed to. I... simply do not wish to be so reminded.

[chopshopgoddess.livejournal.com]

'S kinda bittersweet, isn't it?

[heavyweaponsbot]

... Is that the word for it?

[chopshopgoddess.livejournal.com]

I think it is. It's...nice, but it hurts to think about home.

[heavyweaponsbot]

... and the dead.

[chopshopgoddess.livejournal.com]

And them, yeah.

[heavyweaponsbot]

... Jazz would have enjoyed this snow nonsense. Probably... hit Prime with it.

[chopshopgoddess.livejournal.com]

Or you.

[heavyweaponsbot]

[Silence for a beat.]

...

Yeah. Would have.

[chopshopgoddess.livejournal.com]

Would you have thrown it back?

[heavyweaponsbot]

Would have... picked him up... shoved his head into the stuff.

[chopshopgoddess.livejournal.com]

[Choked little laugh.]

That doesn't sound very nice.

[heavyweaponsbot]

Doubt he would have minded.

[chopshopgoddess.livejournal.com]

It'd have gotten all in his gears 'n stuff.

[heavyweaponsbot]

[There's the slightest sound of metal scraping on metal - as he picks up the photo to study it again.]

Would have laughed. And then stuffed it into my gears.

[chopshopgoddess.livejournal.com]

It'd be cold. [She's coming to find you noooow.]

[heavyweaponsbot]

[He's still in the bar!]

... Doubt he would care. Probably just laugh.

[chopshopgoddess.livejournal.com]

[She's heading there because she magically knows where he is!]

It...seems like it'd be a funny sight.

[heavyweaponsbot]

[It's her 6th Child Sense. And magic.]

Yeah... He... would have enjoyed all this.

[chopshopgoddess.livejournal.com]

[That's it exactly.]

I bet. [And there she is! Walking up and holding her own picture out. Look, they're even leaning against Bee! Mikaela's laughing, Sam's got his arm slung around her and is also laughing, and her dad is ttly facepalming.]

[heavyweaponsbot]

[The look on his face doesn't really change when he sees her photo. He does shutter his optics, nod, and slide his across to her, without a word.]

[chopshopgoddess.livejournal.com]

[She roughly wipes a tear away, then gives a choked laugh.]

Trigger happy even for photos, huh?

[heavyweaponsbot]

[He can only nod. If he speaks, he's going to sound just as choked up as she is.]

[chopshopgoddess.livejournal.com]

[She runs her fingers over the top of the picture, sighing quietly.]

Miss...home.

[heavyweaponsbot]

[He slides his hand across the table a little.]

Yeah... Miss them.

[chopshopgoddess.livejournal.com]

[She pushes the picture back, and pats his big hand awkwardly.]

...Me too.

[heavyweaponsbot]

... Yeah.

[He's not sure what else to say, so he just... looks down, studying the photo again.]

Hate it here.

[chopshopgoddess.livejournal.com]

[She doesn't either. She just traces the outline of Sam's face on her own photo.]

Sometimes I do too.

[heavyweaponsbot]

...

[He sort of... awkwardly pats her shoulder.]

I know.

[chopshopgoddess.livejournal.com]

Yeah. [She leans into his hand, then sighs.] Guess I better...go. Do something.

[heavyweaponsbot]

Why? Cold out there.

[chopshopgoddess.livejournal.com]

I don't wanna bother you.

[heavyweaponsbot]

I sound bothered?

[... More than he usually does, he means.]

[chopshopgoddess.livejournal.com]

Guess not. Just...feel like I pester you.

[heavyweaponsbot]

No more than any other.

[chopshopgoddess.livejournal.com]

I...guess that's...a good thing.

[heavyweaponsbot]

Was supposed to be.

[chopshopgoddess.livejournal.com]

[She scoots closer and flings an arm around him (as best she can, he's still enormous even at only 8 feet) and leans her head on him.]

I'm glad you're here.

[heavyweaponsbot]

[dhfkjdk he has no idea what she's doing, and freezes where he is. This is the last thing he was expecting - a show of affection from her. He'd thought they weren't close any longer, that she was still angry with him for turning down this truce nonsense.]

... Hmn?

[chopshopgoddess.livejournal.com]

[She still likes him, even if she thinks he's being an idiot.]

You heard me.

[heavyweaponsbot]

Yeah. Did. Just... do not believe you.

[But, he'll sit there, and let her cling.]

[chopshopgoddess.livejournal.com]

Well, I am.

[At least he isn't shoving her away.]

[heavyweaponsbot]

... Good, then.