Ep 0.5 "Stop and Smell the Flowers (2)" (Closed)

They didn't get lucky. Because of the delay (and Shadow couldn't even - entirely - blame Rhinox and his flower rescue, because the storm and her own spill had been part of it) monitor shift had changed, which meant instead of someone inclined to politely ignore them (Steeljaw, Airazor), wave them on past (pretty much anyone else), or point and laugh (Bee), they got...

"Hey, Big Green, if I'da known ya were gonna get a little mud wrestlin' in with I Spy here, I woulda tagged along."

Shadow vented slowly, reminded herself that she didn't want to explain to Ironhide why she'd reduced a fellow Autobot to his component atoms, and turned to Rhinox...who at least had the decency to look mortified. "You. Owe me. So, so big."

Rattrap, for his part, either had great faith in his teammates' self control, or great faith in his own ability to dodge. He lounged sideways in the monitor chair (which utterly dwarfed him), optics sweeping eagerly over Shadowrunner and Rhinox both.

"So, yer headin' fer the wash racks, huh?" Rattrap leered, and the only thing which saved him from a quick flight across the room was the fact Shadow didn't want to touch him. "Need any help? I got little servos," he held one up, waggling the fingers suggestively, "that fit real good under tight plating."

"They'd be more use crammed down your intake," Shadow snapped, her good mood from their illicit flower rescue fading rapidly. Field gone dark and tight against her frame, she stalked across the room toward the corridor leading to the wash racks, doing her best to ignore Rattrap entirely.

Which didn't stop her from hearing him ask, with perfectly innocent bewilderment, "Wha'd I do?"

"Kinda tightly wound, ain't she?" Rattrap asked, watching Shadow until she was out of sight. "Too bad; looked like ya had some fun out there. Or, uh, do ya always make it a habit a comin' back from patrol over a breem late?"

"If ya think I can't make a euphemism from that, ya ain't known me long enough," Rattrap said. He settled back into his seat with a smirk, long experience telling him just how fragged off Rhinox was, and just how much more he could hope to get away with. "Though I gotta tell ya, if rescuin' flowers is as good as ya got, it's time ta step up yer game, big guy.

"Besides," he added, "it ain't like you an' yer flowers did anythin' wrong. Femme has any problems, she has 'em with me." He chuckled softly. "An' believe me, it ain't like she's th' one an' only in that category. Ev'ryone on this slaggin' base has their plates clamped so tight they squeak, an' ya know I can't resist a challenge."

"Yeah, an'? Show me one mech this war ain't dumped a load a pit slag on. Us," the accompanying glyphs encompassed Airazor in his us, "included."

He leaned forward, tiny claws tapping the side of the chair for emphasis. "Way I see it, ya keep livin' or ya let th' hurt swallow ya up. I plan ta keep livin', an' I figure anyone still functionin' has done th' same."

"In more ways 'n one," Rattrap said, grinning, though there was a trace of apology in his field. "But look Big Green, it ain't like I'd force anythin' on anyone even if I could. Doesn't mean developin' a sense a humor is gonna kill yer playmate or anyone else on this rock."

"Ya sure ya wanna risk it? She was lookin' kinda scary when she left, but I'm more'n happy ta take my chances with her," Rattrap said. "An' ya never know, maybe she'll take me up on my offer when she ain't got an audience."