heavyweaponsbot: (But why is the energon gone? :<)
[Considering how angry he made the medic earlier, he feels it's only right to find some way to apologize. They're supposed to be making something work, he's supposed to be trying his best not to damage whatever it is they have. And he really hasn't been.

So, he concocts a plan. It's probably not a very good one, given his track record. But hey, he's trying.

The moment he's free of fish, and other obligations, he pokes his head into the mess that is Ratchet's room.]

Come on. We have somewhere to be.
heavyweaponsbot: (Truth will show)
I find it difficult to maintain an ordered squad when those involved get themselves tossed in the brig.  Hmnf!  If you hear this, Zuko, you will answer to me when your punishment ends.  Or King.  Pray that he is more forgiving than I am.

[He mutters something that sounds like "damn kids".  Maybe.  Or maybe you're hearing things.]

The rest of you will report in.  Want to talk to you.


If you wish it to be in person, you can find me with the bees.  I have business with them.

[Meaning, he's itchy to hit something, and the bees are the best target.]


[Locked to Ratchet // Unhackable]
If you see this, got a female who wants to... do me a favor.  Need your advice.
heavyweaponsbot: (Lose all we have found)
[When the comm clicks on tonight, there's a long silence, while the speaker debates whether or not he really wants to do this.]


Hey.  Ratchet.  You... got a minute?

Top deck.

[And without further ado, Ironhide will be waiting on the top deck.  Watching that crazy old sky up there.]
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: (Ceiling Ironhide has you in his sights)
I... have captured a lobster.

[He says this with great pleasure. You should all be proud of him.]
heavyweaponsbot: (Rise or fall)
[Ironhide isn't using his comm. He refuses to admit that anything happened over a public channel. Instead, he's dragging his aft away from deck 3. He moves stiffly, leaning heavily on a wall as he limps along.

One hand is constantly pressed to his chest, as if that's going to help anything. His intakes rasp, big frame shuddering occasionally.

He has one goal in mind - Get to Ratchet. Something is wrong, not just the fresh mark on his armor. He just has to get to his friend and medic.]
heavyweaponsbot: (Interesting.  Does it explode?)
Why is it that organic fuel constantly appears in my presence? I have neither desire, nor capacity, to ingest this... Eugh.

Anyone want this scrap?

[Ironhide is offering up his Valentines candies to anyone who wants them. The stuffed creature--resembling a bull terrier--he picked up, and examined, but decided it was going to a special home.

Anyone who wants candy is welcome to either knock on his door, or pester him over the comms.]


heavyweaponsbot: (Default)

June 2014

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