We are a literate, intermediate to advanced AU Transformers RPG Based off of the first season of TFP with dashes of other incarnations sprinkled here or there. Characters from any continuity are welcome however must be restyled to match the TFPrime universe.
Active, with ongoing plotlines, we are always willing to integrate new characters into storylines once incorporated into the setting.
"A healthy combination of raw engex cut laced with some gasoline I had been saving for a rainy day," said Deuce. He took both cube and vial and mixed them expertly, swirling the cube when he was done. "Scored from an old '81 Ford 150 abandoned out by Lake Callabonna. I have no idea what the Christ it was doing way out there, but I wasn't going to question my luck."
He raised his drink in toast. "Here's to hoping that my scavenging days are finally over."
In one motion he drained it and set the cube back onto the bar. Deuce politely gestured for Layby to refill it when he was not busy, even as he sat himself upon the stool next to Roulette.
"I don't think I've introduced myself," he said. "My name is Deuce. I am a Doctor of Journalism, respected citizen and professional lush. I own a mansion and a yacht. Okay, not really. And you are..."
With one finger pressed to his temple in a pre-cognative gesture, Deuce squinted. "Wait, it's coming to me. You are Roulette, of the Decepticon army! You find me loud but irresistible. You are absolutely welcome to refute this, although I would request not with a backhand to the face. I get a lot of those. Work the upper body over, if you must."
Layby's expression was immaculately schooled, calm as a smouldering fire, but inwardly he was slapping the bartop with a whistle. He stepped backwards and lent his armored shoulders against the wall, keeping his hands busy wiping out cubes. Staying in arm's reach, but giving the pair enough space not to feel intruded upon.
Stepping in too soon could set off a situation as likely as diffuse it - Bots and Cons alike made it a point of pride to fight their own battles.
Deuce was clearly on a mission, here. How that mission would intersect with Roulette's own mission to get utterly fendered... Yeah, depending on how the femme reacted, he'd likely be stepping in, soon.
"Perhaps it's the drink, but are you inviting me to hit you or are you used to being hit? Normally I don't strike first as it sort of gives the Cons the whole bad PR. As if we had good to start with." She winced. She was pretty sure she'd slurred that last sentence just slightly. Maybe they'd think she had a lisp or a glitch.
I don't think I'm getting toasted yet. I hardly feel a thing at all! Clearly this calls for another drink or two.
The Seeker was...well, a seeker. She was pretty sure they always came in the same flavors. Loud, obnoxious, full of hot air, and would-be Casanovas. Except for Starscream. She wasn't entirely familiar with that one but what she'd seen hadn't qualified for half of the credentials to be a seeker. He had pride and was rumored to be obnoxious but she couldn't see him as being a pervert.
"Mostly the latter," admitted Deuce. "I didn't get a face like this from walking into doors."
He gestured wryly to his face. It was rather beat up looking, a road map of small nicks etching out a lifetime of abuse. A particularly nasty scar cut through one of his optics from cheek to brow. The path it traced must have carved out the optic at the time.
Still, he studied her with two good eyes now as he sat on the stool beside hers.
"Can't see anything wrong with your face though, not from where I'm sitting," he said. Deuce grinned. "You getting cratered for any particular reason tonight? Most people go for the hard liquor with a purpose in mind. You're gonna be lying face-down on the floor within the hour if you keep drinking hooch like that. This stuff could knock out a titan."
"Please, this stuff isn't that strong." Yes, yes it is and you're making a mistake! She ignored the inner voice of reason in favor of bravado. "I used to work at a gambling house that was known for its drinks."
Which was true. She had worked at a dingy place that was known for the more wrenching fuel concoctions in Kaon. It hadn't been without its charm but looking back on those memories now, Roulette couldn't say she was overly fond of them. There had been such an air of desperation about the place. Everyone had hid there pretending at a carefree life while revolution knocked at the door.
"I'm not drinking woes away." She took a hearty swig of her drink and winced. That burned a little going down. Now that she thought of it, she was getting pretty warm all over. Huh. "I just want to be hammered for one night." She grinned and tried to lean on the counter with her elbow but missed the edge by a few inches. She corrected the miscalculation with a sheepish laugh that sounded dangerously like a giggle.
Deuce's grinned widened as he watched her nearly faceplant. His orange optics gleamed.
"Nothing wrong with getting cratered for one night of the week," he said. "Or two nights, or three nights, or for three weeks straight because your best friend botched a supply order for your ship and bought four crates of cheap engex instead of four bottles and so you stick around to help him drink them and get so hammered you eventually wake up the basement utility level of the spaceport and you stumble around in the dark until you trip on some cables and knock out power to half the asteroid and they send a bounty hunter after you."
He took a deep breath. "Allegedly."
The Seeker calmly sipped his drink and eyed her curiously.
"You used to be a gambling house?" he said. "Like, as a croupier? No shit! That is damn cool. Where was it? What was the job like?"
During his long-winded story, Roulette's mouth had dropped open at some point. Possibly around the point of "allegedly" tripping over a cable. With a start she stopped gaping at him and sat up straight, or tried to. Slouching was seeming like a better idea at the moment and sudden movements sent everything in her body into a mild alarm. Yep, those drinks were actually quite strong. Go figure.
"Yeah, I was a croupier. It wasn't that bad even if the city was...it was in Kaon." She forced a grin and moved right on by that thought. No need to think about what that city had been or hadn't been. "Wasn't hard work. Sat all day and conned mech's out of their meager credits then I'd drink all my winnings right back into the same place."
"You were a croupier in Kaon?" he said. He whooped and threw up his hands, spilling half his drink in the process. "Lady! That is crazy badass! Kaon is nuts! They call it like one of the worst places on Cybertron. You see stuff there that could scare the DJD off their feed. I didn't even think they knew to have fun in Kaon. Holy crap."
He grinned at her, impressed. "I bet the people there didn't like being conned either. Did you get stalked or attacked by any table psychos who were pissed about losing their credits? I mean, you're a Decepticon, so you obviously know how to take care of yourself. You must have some wild stories after working tables like that. I need me the deets!"
Even in her growing inebriation, Roulette decided she did not want to speak of Kaon. Not if she wanted to have a happy drinking time. So she could either play dumb and make nice with the snoopy seeker or she could evade the questions with misdirection. Not exactly her expertise but drunken bravado was giving her a high five. She probably had this. Just in case, she adopted a throaty purr underlying her words.
"You've never been to Kaon? I thought you would have been a little more...traveled. You know, a seasoning-...seasoned veteran." Internally she cringed but covered the faux pa with a lopsided smile. Being clumsy was one thing, but slurring and mixing up her words was just downright embarrassing.