[ti]Ep 2.5[/ti]Target Practice (Ended)

[Carbine]

Whoops indeed!

That was an unintentional flub, but no one could say that the failure wasn’t fabulous in the way the arrow cartwheeled off to the side to clatter and clank against the concrete panels below. Carbine himself seemed to lax after this, the string no longer pulled back very far, and instead was held loosely while the bow aimed towards the ground off in the general direction where he had been aiming a moment previously. There was no outright laugh, nor a scowling sneer, instead he just seemed perplexed and confused with a sort of half aborted 'huh' sound to pair with it, while Javelin went to retrieve the object for him.

While she moved, he turned his frame a bit to follow her, so that she didn't traverse directly behind him, but instead would end up to his side where he could still watch her from the corner of his vision.

"Ah, I don't havè ̛m̵y͟ s͝ervi̵ce pistol anymore, long lost to t-t-̷i͘me, but I have a built in electrical tool!"

Carbine let go of the string then, and lowered his left hand, allowing him to lift the right without anything in his grip. His fingers flexed out a moment, and once he knew she was watching, the entire servo seemed to snap down at the wrist, and slide back at a channel on its underside. This drop in the joint left the end of his forearm exposed, where a minor transformation unfurled and clapped together to form a set of prongs that hooked at one another. A moment later, a near silent whirl booted up in his torso, the electrical generator gearing up for possible use, while a small charge of blue light jittered and cracked between the weapon.

It wasn't lethal, at least, it wouldn’t be unless you had some spark damage already, or were subjected to it for a long time. If Carbine were to jab this thing in someone's throat and just hold it there for as long as he could before heat damage could creep up his arm... he could probably lay some rather painful injuries or throw someone offline, but it would take far too long. The real point to it was more immobilize, than kill.

He tried to ignore the mention about Bumblebee, his frustrations high regarding the scout, not wanting to ruin this moment.

"Has a range featu̷r̷e o͝n i̶t ͞t̀-tǫo, but it loses effectiv̢en͢es͘s when used like th-that."

The booting of his internal generator seemed to rouse Bolo from his suspended sleep. The canine stirred and moved silently in its dock, consciousness creeping into play while wariness glazed over it all. Was a fight starting? Would he be needed? He didn’t sense distress or rage. The soft concepts drifted past his languid processor, pinging Carbine for assurances of action or inaction. It seemed to urge the black and white mech into his next words.

"My prim-prim-p-ķz̸z̡tt̶t͢-main weapon tends to be my Casse͘t͏t͢e͠. Can't go wrong with a murder hound!"

He barked out a laugh at this, before his back flexed and he hunched forward some. The electrical surges in his taser stopped the moment he did this, while he seemed to almost double over a moment in discomfort. What seemed to be pain for a flicker of a second, changed instantly when the plates along his spine started to flare and flex out abruptly. A set of white rings along his back surged out and away from the central column, before branching away from one another with a hard snap and a snarl of internals moving around. A few seconds later, and more than a few moving components relocating themselves, and a large canine that Javelin had seen before unfolded and planted its paws down along its owner's back.

Bolo eased up onto his paws with a tired shake, his forelegs planted down onto Carbine's shoulders just beside the rotor posts, while his back feet were latched over the pronged hip posts that jutted out from his lower back. The dog groggily looked around, blearily peering over at Javelin to try to figure out where he was. After a moment, he seemed to relax.

"He won'̸t͏ ͢bite unless you hurt him."

A smirk seemed to be implied with this, the bottom edges of his optics creeping up once more in amusement. At this, Bolo seemed to ease forward a bit, stretching his long neck and helm forward over Carbine's right shoulder, to try to sniff at Javelin if he could manage. He was curious, and it showed with high set ears that were fanned forward with interest.

[Javelin]

Turning on a ped slightly, Javelin turned her attention to Carbine’s servo as he lifted it. Her blue-green optics blinked when the taser powered up, the blue electricity arcing from one prong to another. The thoughts of what that would feel like invading her systems made her tank churn a little in sympathy.

She was a little confused as to why he hadn’t been given another weapon once he lost his pistol. There was still a war going on - he needed something to protect himself!

“Ranged is good - everyone needs something ranged. That’s my view, anyway.”

After Carbine spoke a second time, hunching over, Javelin’s optics widened slightly. She moved back a few steps as his posture changed, gaze riveted on the sudden motion on his back.

She watched as what looked like the backpack folded and unfolded, parts moving, flicking out and around. As a Cybertronian, it was less confusing for her to watch than the humans, and her vision was able to follow the format of the cassette as it appeared.

Finally, presented with the large canine perched upon the black and white mech’s back, Javelin’s stepped forward.

“Oh.”

Not an actual word, her exclamation was a soft vent of sound. She took another step forward, and pushing herself up onto the very tips of her peds, she slowly reached out a hand up to the canine, palm up. Her other hand lightly rested on Carbine’s shoulder, to give herself better balance. She wasn’t close to touching Bolo, but the gap would make it easier for the cassette to decide if he wanted to reach out any farther with his head or not.

“Aren’t you the most beautiful thing.”

Her voice retained the soft tone, though it wasn’t the sometimes annoying, high-pitched, squeaky tone some individuals took with cherished pets. It was clearly not her usual talking voice.

If the canine decided to lower his head to sniff at her offered fingertips, she would gently attempt to scratch him beneath his chin.

Smiling, almost with joy, she looked at Carbine, optics still wide, “I saw him when we were in that mine, but I didn’t want to push. I never saw him this close. Carbine, he’s gorgeous.”

Javelin smiled back up at Bolo, but continued to speak to Carbine, “Even with this handsome guy, you should have a better weapon than that taser. Why didn’t they issue you one? Did you turn one down or something?”

[Carbine]

Bolo didn't seem shy at all, and the moment Javelin reached her hand within possible range, his frame canted forward so that his snout started to drag and press against her open palm. A rubbing motion, a snorted huff, scents filtered in to his system and hefted out of the vents on the canine's back, the sound of air puffing out was plenty audible while he sucked and tried to evaluate her and log it into his memory.

There were all the familiar scents right up on the forefront. The Omega Outpost, others around the base that he has smelt before, all muddled with the 'blueprint' of her own metal makeup and the types of maintenance that was done to maintain herself. Oils, fuel, a bite of some cleaners muddled and dusted over by a distant scent of some other locations laced on top that he didn't recognize. Bolo smeared his snout sideways to try to huff at the underside of her hand, going so far as for a silver tongue to poke out and lap at the joint between hand and wrist in curiosity.

Carbine beamed when Javelin muttered out praising words towards his companion, his field lighting up a bit. Bolo meant so much to him, that any good attention towards his Cassette was a fine way to try to cut through the gloom that had hung over his head so prominently the last few weeks. In return, he would dip the shoulder that Bolo rested on a small amount, so that the dog could reach forward further if he really wanted to.

When Javelin pulled her hand down to go under Bolo's jaw, The Cassette seemed to catch on to what she wanted, and tilted his head up a bit while stretching his helm out. His jaw was flared at the back edges, branching to either side with moderately decorative fins that mimicked his owner. While those areas where good to be scratched, the second Javelin's fingers would brush against the connector where the hydraulic latched into his jaw? It became obvious Bolo wanted THERE scratched!

A warbled noise, a lean into her touch, he almost seemed to try to guide her hand there, the thick cable bracketed securely into his mouth to be able to fuel his bite in combat. Carbine laughed at this, shifting his weight some to get comfortable since it seemed Bolo wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon.

"I think you have ́a̵ ̀ne͜w friend"

He mused, before answering her following question about his weaponry.

"Ahh, well... I really want a mac͘h̛i͝ne ́gu͞n or something. Somethin' with s-̡s͝-o̸m̛e mowing power to it where I don't have to be accurate. I thiǹk͜ ͟t̴h-tha̵t w̷oųl͡d be awesome, but I have kind'a maybe a little itty bitty bit possibly PERHAPS have bee͘n̛ ̴i͝n a minute amount of slight trouble and hav͞ȩn't ͏been i͢ǹ a̧ position t-t-to bring it up."

Sheepishly he said this, while Bolo continued to make grumbly happy noises and fanned his ears out, trying to push Javelin into scratching more. If she were to be cruel, If she stopped, a clunky paw would sweep out at her in a light batting motion to beg for more.

"As a past cop, I also have issues͜ w͏i͞t͞h͢ ̶leth̨àl͡ ͢ẃèapons that I have t-t-o aim with. Call it some kind of ingrained morality; I call i-̵i̧-͜ì-̕it a fraggin' handicap, but directly killing someo͞n͟e̡ doe͘s̨n'̷t ḿa͝ke my cop side happy."

He snorted at this, his gaze narrowing some.

Carbine had no mental issues with murder, this was war, and he has managed to take a fair few lives along the way in indirect means. That said, taking a gun, aiming it at someone else, and trying to convince his processor murder is the only means for survival? It didn't make his primary coding happy. His processor fizzles, it flinches, and he can only come up with the hundreds of different options to survive the situation and try to take down the foe without lethal means. It is why he wanted a machine gun, pull the trigger and fan it in their direction, and if a bullet HAPPENED to kill them? Lucky day!

[Javelin]

Javelin smiled again up at Bolo. Her hand scratched around the bottom of his chin, and when her fingers moved over that particular spot, it was apparent that’s where Bolo wanted her attention. She lightly laughed, and accomodated him.

The femme listened as Carbine spoke of his trouble. She slightly frowned, wondering what trouble he could have gotten into. He was a police officer. It couldn’t be that bad. Although she did remember his odd behavior when they were in the mine. But she put that down to stress and tension. Primus knows, everyone had been tense. It’s not like he had been in jail.

“Oh, you can’t be in that much trouble. You wouldn’t be able to just walk around if you were. You’d have guards on you and everything.”

She had stopped scratching Bolo as she spoke, and looked back, smiling a little, as the canine pawed at her for more attention.

She listened as he spoke again, talking about his choice of weapon.

When she spoke, her voice was a little different. Not the usual cheery, happy tone Javelin usually talked with. This seemed a little darker. Tighter.

“It’s not morality. It’s coding. There’s a difference. And morality sometimes is a handicap.”

She paused.

“Well, I would have offered to make you a bow, but….bows are very intense weapons. You can’t just point and shoot. You’re scanning their frame for a place to hit. Preferably a lethal place. You’re often looking your target in the eye when you shoot, unless you hit them in the back. Personally, it doesn’t matter to me. If I want you dead….well…I don’t really care if you see it coming or not.”

She continued scratching, voice and field still low, restrained and tight, “I guess I’m lucky in that way. The only coding I was given was for searching. Morality? Right and wrong? I was allowed to make up my own mind about that. And I weigh options before I decide on an action, but when I do? I have few regrets.”

There was silence from Javelin for a moment, just scratching Bolo, showing him full attention. After a few seconds, self-consciousness bled into her field, and when she spoke again, her voice was more light hearted, open. She half-laughed, uneasy, “Sorry. Anyway….it shouldn’t be too hard to find you a weapon, Carbine. There must be ones around here that can be fixed. And the offer is still open, by the way. If you do want to learn the bow seriously. This ... has been fun."

She smiled at him, “Don’t forget, you said you’d teach me to make shivs. I’m counting on that.”

[Carbine]

Oh.

That was hot.

Gotta' love a girl that could find the balance between a stereotypical femme delicacy, and cold hard brutal murder. That caught Carbine's eye instantly, finding a sort of messed up delight that this small thing had no hang-ups with killing and sounded like she would point blank impale someone's head with an arrow if the opportunity showed itself. Carbine wished he could act in such ways, he wished he was that FREE where he could slice into a foe without trying to trick himself he has to or he will die. So many Decepticons wouldn’t have been able to live to see another day if he didn’t have to throttle himself, including that black and gray one here on earth.

So close... he was so close to ending her life. That dull blade would be plenty sharp enough to do what was needed, even if he had to saw back and forth a few times to gore into vital lines, or plunge it in deep enough it hit something of value. She was lanky too; he could have dug his knee down between her shoulder blades, and tried to brute force wrench her helm clean off that thin wired neck. Heck, he could tell Bolo to do it for him. Have no issue about uttering that silent command to attack, and just never tell the dog to stop until the mangled bits of twisted blue smeared metal were motionless.

He envied Javelin's freedom.

"Ah yeah, I will conti͟nu̢e̵ ͜t̵o ̀p-pl͘a̶y support."

He said boldly, thumbing proudly at his chest as he did so, while lowering his free hand with the bow a bit to let it rest at his side.

"Distract, pummel, weaken, s-so peop͏le͏ l͝ik̵e you c-can cut them down so we ͞d̡òn̛’̶t͢ h͏ave any more of those Cons cominǵ bàck͜ f̡o͡r s͞econ̵ds, or th-thirds. How about we look ͞a͜ftèr on͡e another eh? Just don't shoot mȩ b̛y m͡įstake!"

Carbine laughed at this, while Bolo seemed annoyed at his Master's movements while exclaiming his ideas. In the canine's mind, he was getting attention! He was getting pets! He was the center of this little world! And the person he was using as a stepstool to get optimal head scratching height, was moving around and ruining it all with some over animated nonsense!

Bolo made some annoyed sounds in reply, a huffing pop while a small nipping action was sent back at Carbine's helm, though no contact was actually made. In reply, Carbine simply stood upright fully, ejecting the hound from his spot by turning gravity and lack of thumbs against him. A scrabble of paws, a slide of the dog trying to hang on, it was futile, and a moment later Bolo flumped down onto the ground on all fours. His body shook heavily at this, armor plating rattling on its mountings before settling in place where it needed to be. Now that he was free however, he trotted around Carbine to look up at the 'deliverer-of-scratches', ears perking high again with interest.

When Javelin said 'This ... has been fun' however, Carbine's posture changed some, looking almost concerned or alarmed. He peered down the room at the targets a moderate distance away, before looking back at Javelin, then at the bow in his hand, then back at her...

"W-w̶-wa͢it... no more?"

He exclaimed.

"I didn't even ̸g̷e̡t ̴to ͢s͠h͟o͏ot anything!"

There was a pause when he thought over what to say, before he quickly added.

"Tsk, not muc̛h ͡o͘f ̢a fi̵r͘st date huh?"

A sheepish look, his helm tilted down a bit with rotors and shoulders sagging.

[Javelin]

Javelin listened as Carbine spoke about working as support. Arms loosely crossed in a comfortable stance, she nodded, “That’s usually what I do, to be honest. Obviously not a frontliner. I tend to stay back and shoot.”

She smiled sheepishly, “And…you know…I don’t want to give you the idea I’m some slavering, mass murdering psycho. I don’t go looking to kill Decepticons, but….if I feel they deserve to die? I don’t really feel sorry if I do.” Her voice changed for a second, “They took too much from us. And Primus help me, I can’t forgive them for that.”

She shook her head, again, clearly not overly comfortable with the conversation. Again, it was getting too dark, and that was a path Javelin wasn’t ready to walk down right now. She had been doing well, the path to the dark places staying away. She didn't want to go searching for those paths now.

The way back took too long.

Javelin looked up at Carbine, and smiling, rubbed the back of her neck, “Look after each other? Isn’t that what Autobots do? Look after each other? Scrap, I’ve pulled enough afts out of the fire on weird, overgrown planets, and had mine saved as well. Unless you cross me, if you wear the red brand, I’m on your side.”

When Bolo leapt down, Javelin went down on a knee, and returned to giving the beast’s helm gentle strokes and scratches, “Just remember Rule Number Two; don’t get in front of me if I have an arrow pulled. Once it’s moving, I can’t control it.”

Looking back at Bolo, she admired the canine’s form. He was so sleek and serious looking. Javelin wondered what he had been like when Carbine had been on the force. The mental image of Bolo running down some dangerous criminal gave her a little secret thrill of delight. She started to wonder what his top speed was. When the war started, Javelin had a few mods added to her frame: dampeners for quieter recon, better fuel economy seeing she could be weeks out in the landscape with no contact with the Autobots, and an upgrade to her speed on foot. While having average speed on her wheels, her light frame made her speedy on her peds, and she suddenly started wondering how much of a chance she could have trying to outrun Bolo.

All in fun, of course.

Upon hearing Carbine’s voice again, she looked up to see him looking at the bow in his hand.

She gently laughed, “Hey, if you want to keep the lessons going, I’m game. Just figured you might be getting tired of me right about now.”

Getting to her peds, she motioned with a servo to a nearby corner, “Might want to get Bolo to curl up there, so he’s not in the way of the arrows. I don’t want him hurt.”

She suddenly burst out laughing, “Wait, this is a date? Oh Carbine, you have a lot to learn about dating! You didn’t even bring me a gift! Tsk tsk. How ungentlemanly.”

[Carbine]

"Hey, don̨'t g̛ot̡ta̸'͞ ̧e̵xplain yourself to me, we all got a dark side."

He mused, before allowing the subject to somewhat move on to less serious things.

"-and you know that̷’͠s nǫt what I m-m-ean."

Carbine's hand lifted as he said this, lightly poking her in the shoulder when she had pointed out that all Autobots look out for one another. Sure, he would look out after his team always, but there were bound to be sub-teams within any faction, individuals whose skills line up to mesh nicely and are able to polish off foes and clear a path with efficiency. He wanted to try that with her, to get in a scuffle and suddenly see someone's helm explode in front of his face from a well placed arrow turning the 'Con's head into a doughnut. He however, let this topic drop away as well, focusing on how she interacted with Bolo.

"I don't remember̡ ̛you̢ ͟sa͘y͟ing a Rule n-n-um-ber One, is that your way to make me ͝b́ite͠? ͘O̴h you t-tease!"

The black and white canine beamed when Javelin came back down to his level and started to pet and scratch his helm again, always finding joy in such attention. It was a calming wave that soothed over any irritation or frustration the dog had in any given moment, allowing him to unfurl the little doggy tension and give up on simplistic concerns to just be tended to and coddled. This relaxation showed while he stood there, peds planted well enough apart for good balance while he leaned forward into her hands, ears folding back smoothly against his neck so that her hand could pass over his helm unobstructed. Bolo went so far as to even deactivate his optics. While he could not blink in the traditional sense, the dark lenses with nothing behind them seemed to convey the idea enough.

Carbine meanwhile, seemed to be trying to figure something out. He wanted to offer a gift, to give her something and state she hadn't given him the opportunity to present it yet, but at the same time, he didn’t really HAVE much to offer. He had a couple Garrus shivs probably hidden away somewhere, but getting those was a pain. The knife he tore out of the Decepticon was nice'ish, but that was HIS and part of HIS conquest. He had handcuffs, which were also his and he didn't want to part with them ((even if it'd make a kinky/funny gift)), and he had a chunk of raw Energon he has been hoarding to use when he has to scent hound with Bolo. I mean... he also had body parts of a random unnamed femme, but handing Javelin the severed mangled and greasy hand of a murdered Cybertronian probably wasn't the sexiest thing around.

"-and he̡y̸-̸ņo̷w͞! Who gives gifts on th-the firs̸t͢ dat́e ̕a̴nymore? You got to wait and - and - k̕zzt̕t͘t͢-͟s͞e̢e if there is any spark first. Th-that is just being̸ ̕e͘cơn̷o͜mical in this war torn existence of ours!"

Melodramatics, he placed the back of his free hand up and across his forehead, over exaggerated anguish sloping off of his posture. Bolo's optic slightly illuminated as it activated again, giving Carbine a side eyed look before grumbling and scooting closer to Javelin when she tried to point across the room.

Nope! Not going anywhere!

"Resources and valua͠bl͞es ̛a̸re spread far too thin, tò u̵şe u̷p̨ ̢on th-those that are tak̷in̷g yơu for a spin!"

Score- unintentional rhyming.

"BUT, if this date g͠oe̕s̕ w͠e̸l͝l, perhaps th-there could be another, and then I can make up for my uni͞nt̶e̴n͜ded̶ s̵light."

[Javelin]

Javelin listened as Carbine spoke.

Yes, she knew what he had meant. Keep an eye out for each other. Sometimes mini-groups formed within the larger ones.

She didn’t really know Carbine well enough to be sure he would have her back beyond the normal brother in arms camaraderie that existed among soldiers, but that wasn’t a big deal. She could keep an eye out for both of them. Javelin, while not actively distrusting anyone, was so used to watching her own back, she wouldn’t be able to just trust anyone that completely. Not yet.

But there was no reason to tell Carbine that, and maybe insult him.

“Sounds good,” she smiled, seemingly chipper.

She held out the arrow to Carbine again, motioning for him to turn back towards the target, while she walked towards the small step stool again, stepping up so she was once more on the same eye level with him. She said nothing about Rule Number One. She didn’t want to come out and tell him that rule was for the very few people who, over time, got past all her walls, all her defences, and entered the realm of those she trusted entirely. What the inhabitants of this world called family. That rule was not for just friends. Too heavy, and could be too off-putting.

Javelin assumed Carbine would just forget it as she went back to her lessons.

She looked down at Bolo and chuckled as the canine had squished himself a little closer to her, obviously wanting more pats.

“Not right now, handsome.”

Javelin was about to speak, when Carbine began talking about gifts and she laughed.

“Oh, so I’m not worth a gift at the start, is that what you’re saying?” she grinned at him, “Yes, you really seem like an economical individual.”

She shook her head at his melodramatic motions, grinning as he continued to speak, “And now you’re accusing me of taking you for a spin, hmm? I must say, I’m feeling very unappreciated here!”

She chuckled.

“Ok, from the top again. Keep your spinal strut as straight as is comfortable, nock arrow, pull, and hold. Wait for my signal to release. As you aim, take note of where it looks like it’s going to hit. Keep it in mind. When the arrow does hit, look at where it did hit. That will be your handicap. Everyone has one. You’ll take that into consideration the next time, whether you tend to naturally aim high, low, to one side or the other.

And I’ll be the one deciding if there’s to be a second date, thank you very much. Better impress me on this shot.”

She grinned.

[Carbine]

Not now?! NOT NOW!?

Bolo knew those words. He knew them, and he knew what it implied. It meant that she wasn't going to be petting him anymore, and all the fun was suddenly drained out of the moment. To the canine, this was the worst possible outcome imaginable. Ignore the fact one of them could get seriously hurt, or some kind of bomb or other crazy stuff could happen... no... to the dog, being snubbed for cuddles and denied attention was the greatest of insults.

With a rolling huff, Bolo threw his head up like a snooty pree-teen girl that was just spoken to by some lower classman that was more than a few tiers down on the social hierarchy. He rolled his head while he turned, standing up to trot away from Javelin to give her the cold shoulder. He believed that was plenty to show off his absolute 'devastation' for how he felt, paws padding with a lazed prance until he got a good distance away out from the immediate action.

Carbine, simply smirked, continuing to interact with Javelin, keeping a mental note on where Bolo was behind him. He did however continue to smack himself internally that he didn't have a gift ready. He needed to make something generic enough to give away to a lady, without being so valuable his own greed and obsession would force him to hold onto it. Put it into his hip storage with the mutilated femme parts, and have it always at the ready for situations when he was trying to woo someone. Maybe some fake flowers, humans seemed to find those pretty, and a local custom adopted could make him seem sympathetic and worldlier or whatever other crap they could make up in their minds to fill the nonsensical gap.

Sadly this didn’t help him now.

"Is being economica͢l̀ r̕ȩaļl̸y ͝so ̶bad? But z̀z̷ look does k̸zz̷t͜t͜t̵ it mean of me."

He had the foresight to play back his pouting, and actually seem remorseful, looking down and to the side, while his free hand gingerly took hold of the arrow she was offering him from earlier. It was still a jokey pose, still exaggerated some, but it was played back.

"Been spit-t̕-e̢d͞ ͟be̷fore, I should not have projectęd͏ m̡y ins͠e͡curities onto you, th-͡t͡h͠-t-̕at was aw̸͝f̀uĺ̷ly̵͟ ̨unfa̛͘ì̶r!"

The way he spoke, it wasn’t apparent if he was 100% playing still, or if this was a small sliver of truth underneath all the humor and laughing from before. After this inkling of reality though, he gasped over dramatically again, the humor from crashing back into play at full swing.

"Awyus, sh͠oơt̨in̛' t̵i̸m̢e."

He actually was looking forward to this some.

Now that Bolo was no longer docked, Carbine was able to actually straighten his spine a bit better, and balance his stance far more effectively. He didn’t have to lean forward as far, nor hook his hips in front of him, and he didn't have to pinch his rotors in the uncomfortable angle. He was able to actually stretch the components along his back, to better angle his body gently into the stance he was trying to mimic from her example earlier. Small silver panels flexed and flared along his back as he did so, the vents angling a bit before mostly closing since he was at a state of rest.

Further trying to imitate Javelin, Carbine lifted the arrow and bow up in tandem, and nocked it with care, lowering it down to aim it in the direction of the targets. Unlike before, he remembered to push his pointer finger out a bit more, giving the arrow a bigger rest to lay upon, since he just couldn't seem to get the arrow to rest on the proper spot. This kept it from pin-wheeling away once more, completing the posture.

Instead of simply firing on his own, he waited for her approvals, side eyeing her with a smirk.

"Ah b-v-baby, I wìll sho̴o̢t ̛ỳa̛h throuǵ͠͡h̴ ̴͏t̛h̢e hea̢rt̵ wit̢h ͘im̴p͠re͞ssed-ness. Except not literally, becàu͝se̡ I ͏a͜in't kzz͟ murderin' game kķkt̷tt̷ ͟f͠-̷game for today."

Carbine seemed ignorant his speech was getting worse as time progressed, having too much fun for the moment. Bolo meanwhile had walked over to the table of other bows that had been made for the demonstration. He sniffed around, rubbed a bit against one of the table legs to itch a spot on his side... and then plunked his head onto the top of the slab to see what was actually there.

He didn't recognize what the objects were, and didn't really see enough of them at this angle to connect the dots that they were the same things that Master was currently holding onto. In turn, the canine sniffed at the nearest one, his mouth opening a bit to 'lip' at its edge and try to snag it over one of the prongs on the front of his mouth. Every now and again, he would glance at the others, to make sure nobody saw anything, before attempting to pull it closer, trying to slide one off of the table.

[Javelin]

Javelin watched Bolo walk off, a sort of bemused look on her face.

“Sorry fella.”

She turned, moving back towards Carbine, and chuckled, “Economical? Sure. And I doubt you were heartbroken for too long. You probably have several femmes on the side. Smooth-talking guys usually do.”

She stood back a second, looking his frame over, nodding in approval as he was more able to remain straight without Bolo docked. This would aid his ability to shoot straight. Watching as plates shifted against each other, she inspected him with a critical eye, tilting her helm slightly for a second, making sure his peds were properly spaced, shoulders proper width apart, and with a good, strong stance.

Javelin chuckled again when he made the comment about shooting her in the heart. She noticed his speech was starting to act up, but she made no show of it. Javelin had no idea how bad it could get, but she knew it was something he had when she first met him. It was just a part of him, no big deal.

Javelin kicked the stepstool back into place, stepping up to stand alongside Carbine as he raised the bow, aiming for the target. Smiling, she gently reached out, and using her smaller hands, adjusted an arm here, moving an elbow there. She gently leaned against him, sliding one arm around behind his neck to push down on a shoulder a little. She remained with an arm around his shoulders, leaning against him, head close to his.

To anyone watching, it would be quite obvious what she was doing. Whether it was obvious to Carbine was another matter.

“Now,” she said, her voice pitched slightly low, “the longer you try to hold the wire back, the harder it will get, even with your strength. Your big strong arms will start to get tired, so you want to try and have your target picked out before you draw back.”

Javelin, smiling saucily, leaned in to whisper, lips inches from his audial input, “Can you feel the tension?”

She leaned back, and spoke normally, “In the wire, I mean.”

Still smiling, she leaned away from Carbine, standing upright, and spoke, “Now, roll your fingers off the wire, and shoot.”

[Carbine]

Don't hit her.

Don't HIT her.

DON'T HIT HER.

Silent screams shot through Carbines' processor, all thought locking down and freezing up as a lance of uncontrolled fear shot through his systems. Outwardly, he held it together well; his field recoiling back to tuck close to try to hide the anxiety that plagued him like a disease, while he didn't flinch or break his posture that was pulling the bow back.

He did tense up however.

When Javelin had put her hand behind him to touch his far shoulder blade, she would find that he did not bow or move under the touch like he had with his arm. The hands on his limbs allowed her to move them at ease, relocating to whatever angle she needed him to be, but the shoulder was different. It is difficult to explain exactly how metal could go 'ridged', it was already a hard surface that was plated over securely, yet, Carbine seemed to. The plate did not shift under the touch, or move ever so slightly in its mounting brackets. It held secure, and the rest of his body mirrored as much.

His left hand tightened on the handle of the bow, becoming more of a fist than a grip to keep it steady. If the bow had been made of wood, it would have begun to splinter, joints flexing at the seams from the amount of pressure he was exerting into it's handle. His right hand tightened on the string and arrow, crooking the cord itself into a 'Z' shape at his hand while his elbow trembled some.

Laughing.

Jeering.

They were going to kill them both. They were going to mutilate Bolo. Hands scrabbling, clawing... 'Making an example' some said, 'Retribution' others claimed, 'Amusement' being the silent cry of all that wore mangled grins of gnarled teeth. A flash of orange. They only saw him as what his job had been, only saw his paint and cared not for the fact it wasn't HIM. He wasn't the one! He didn’t! He didn't clip their plans! He didn't take them down! Not all cops looked like him, it was just one squad! Why were they... the pain... don't turn your back, don’t let them get to Bolo... Don't let them sneak up on you! Beat them down if they try! It is the only way to survive!

Carbine's left arm trembled noticeably, his body screaming to slam his finned elbow as hard as he could into Javelin. He could ram her to the ground before she knew what hit her; he could get out from under her grasp! She was going to tear into his back just like the others! She was going to! He doesn't have armor there now! Bolo couldn't even protect him!

Except... he knew she wasn't.

Slowly, Carbine's helm turned to look in her direction, Optics wide in horror, circles of yellow that fiercely latched down with small pinpricks of white nestled in their center.

Don't make a scene! Don't show weakness! What is WRONG with you!? Look at her! She is flirting! You love that don't you!? Get your act together you piece of garbage!

Bolo stopped what he was doing, watching Javelin from across the room. He had given up on his mischief, stance now proud and strong. Paw pads were planted down broadly; back limbs bent just enough to give a hefty push if he needed to run at her. His ears were uptight, yellow eyes latched down and attentive to his master's needs. It would take only one call for help, one silent whimper through their shared link, and the canine would be upon her in an instant.

"T͜h͘e͘͡re̶͘͡'s ̴͘͘ţ͡è͟͢n͜s̀í̵o͏̡͜n̸̛ ̕a̢l̕͡ri͘͝gh͞t!"

He forced laughed back, static extra thick in his stress laden words.

"I ki̷n̵d̸'͠a ̶don't D̗̭̼͚O̟͉̘ things z͟͝z̶̸͜t̀͢t̀͜ ̕͠t-things on my͡ ̕b̧ac̢k,̧ ̡p͢léase. Love though attention K̢̕z̧͝z̛t̕po̕̕p the! A+ attracti͝v͟e͞ yo͘u ̢a͞r͝e excellent."

Give her a chance. Give her opportunity! Don't try to cleave her head off with the side of your arm you dumbass!

"It's fine,͝ I͏'̨m͘ ̶f͠ine, good yes... af̶f-͞áąf̢f͟-irma͏tive app͝r-̀ap͘-a̴-̶con͡f̵ormity sound z̨̛z̢͝t̸p͘̕ stupendous. Le̵t͝'̧s͡ do͜ ̴t͝his sh̡it!"

With his completely broken posture, he forced himself to let go of the string with a creaked groan of his locked joints being forced open. The arrow sharply bit forward with a 'thwip' followed by a bang as it collided with the far wall, missing the target completely and crashing into the stone a good distance to the top left. Its end would bend horribly from the impact, rattling to the ground noisily.

[Javelin]

She was aware something had changed instantly.

Carbine’s field suddenly collapsed in on itself, drawn back so quickly it was like it vanished entirely.

It took her far too long to realize it was her that was causing that tension. At first she thought she had said something that had angered the mech. Some slip of the tongue, something said without even thinking, and she had offended him, pissed him off. She cursed herself in her mind for being so out of touch with her own people that she had said something offensive without even knowing.

But when Carbine turned and looked at her, with fear in his optics, she was all too aware she was the cause, and it wasn’t anger or annoyance, it was outright terror. For whatever reason, she was utterly terrifying the mech.

Javelin pulled her arms back swiftly, breaking all body contact with him. She stepped back a few steps, to put space between them, “Whoa, sorry, I-“

Javelin forgot for a second she was standing on a step stool. Literally walking off the edge, she stumbled back onto her back and aft with a crash.

Instantly, pushing back up into a sitting position, she held up her servos, palms out, in an “unarmed” motion. Her voice was slightly strained with embarrassment, but she smiled weakly, trying to put reassurance in her tone. She wasn't frightened of him - she had no idea how close she had come to being attacked - but wanted to put Carbine at ease, and repair the mistake she had made.

“Sorry, shouldn’t have done that, should NOT have done that. Way too pushy, too forward, sorry! It’s all good, it’s fine!”

Carefully pushing herself up from the floor, she brushed off her hands, and turned, walking towards where the broken arrow lay. She was trying hard to make it appear as if nothing had happened, but her processor was buzzing, her own field jumping slightly. How on earth had she managed to scare him so badly? He towered over her!
She was very lightly armoured, and not much of a hitter.

Some people just had a thing about being touched, but....he didn’t seem to mind –

Oh. He said his back. There was something about his back?

Javelin bent and picked up the arrow, pretending to look at it for a second, while she went over what had happened. He obviously had a strong aversion about his back being touched. Alright. That was ok, nothing wrong with that. Understandable.

She took a silent invent, and settled herself inside. As odd as it sounded, once she knew what she had done wrong, she relaxed. Knowing a mistake was the best thing – you could just avoid that one thing.

Feeling more settled, she turned on a ped, and looked back at him. Her own field was more relaxed, and her smile was genuine again. She held up the arrow.

“Since I caused interference, we’ll discount this one. You want to try again?”

[Carbine]

Carbine was rather frustrated at himself. He was having such a good time! He legitimately was! Javelin was enjoyable to speak to, and wasn't so serious she was above a bit of immature flirting and other nonsense just for a good laugh and a bit of lighthearted fun. No TOO heavy conversations about the war, nothing too pointed that wasn’t diverted with ease, a bit of chat over weapons but mostly just letting everything vanish around them to play some kind of 'I am a better flirter than you' game.

He wanted to hope he was above such fearful responses, especially since he knew it was always a possibility the second she was moving him around that she could touch his back. But... he wanted to believe he truly was better than that. The delicate touch of such a small femme couldn't compare to the damaging claws of others. Her careful movements weren't able to be translated as aggressive intent. She was so mindful, and so cautious, and despite this he just couldn't turn off how broken he was over it all and had ruined this interaction.

Sullied first impressions.

As Javelin fell, Carbine's right hand that had been holding the arrow a moment prior, reached out towards her, as if wanting to catch her and stop her fall, but being too slow to do so. His fingertips curled through the open air, before pulling back closer to his body, trying to debate with himself if he should approach or not. Part of him wanted to offer her a hand up, the other... the other saw the fear she now felt in response to his own, her hands held up as if he was going to still hurt her. This hurt some, his frame pulling a bit further away with a new layer of shame that was difficult for him to swallow.

"No no! I like forward̕! ̧I̛-I͢ ̡am ͟sòrry̧! I j-just... sorry I sh͏o̴ul͟ḑ ha̷v͡é ͡wąr͜ned͠, th-thought I'd be ok..̸. ͟I̡ ̢don̶'t̡ do..."

He stumbled over his words a bit, static chattering and popping with the compound stress while he tried to explain himself. These heightened emotions made it even more difficult to discern, everything made worse which only added to his frustration and made a bad loop. He wanted to still help her up, but he hesitated, wary of scaring her more so he refrained, watching as she pushed herself back to her feet and brushed off any dirt that may have gotten on her hands.

"I've been wo͜r͢ki̸n̨g͠ ̢on͝ i͡t̡,́ bu̷t ͝I not kz͟z̨t͝t͘ enough guess..."

Carbine was torn, saying this while he took the arrow carefully from her hands, and let its end nestle back between his fingers like how he was shown. On one hand he felt like he needed to drop it all and focus on this next shot. Javelin was trying to move on, she was trying to get things back on track! And he should do the same! But... there was also the feeling of needing explain himself. He had messed up and he didn't want her to think he was unstable and unreliable; he didn't need her to see him as some liability on the team, or see him as a freak. He didn’t mean to do what he had! It just... no... no... he needed to not let her feelings influence him.

As much as Carbine may try to be social, and did have a strong need to fit into a team and be a part of a unified group, he was a very aggressive individual that looked out for himself and little else most of the time. He could play nice, but... he knew he was fine and he didn't need some approval from some femme he didn't even know. Because of this, he took in a long invent, before air sifted through the large slats lower on his back with a hiss, trying to regain his composure. Trying to assure himself he didn't care.

Lifting up the bow again, he was trying to move on, trying to get things back how they were just as she was. Despite the moment being passed however, he still seemed to tremble when the string was pulled back. The end of the arrow slightly jittered and swayed from side to side as he aimed, fingers clenching around the shaft of the bow with a bit too much force in his attempt to be steady.

Calm down.

Relax.

He tried to think about his old blaster, his service gun that he learned how to use well. It was familiar, and required careful aim, but this was completely different and couldn't even compare really. It just was one more thing to try to think about, while he steadied just enough he let go of the string.

With another 'thwip', the arrow thunked on the left edge of the target.

[Javelin]

Javelin was doing her best to make it appear what had happened was no big thing. In truth, she was a bit shaken up, but more from her assumed faux pas than anything else. Dammit, she was so bad at re-integrating.

Listening to his words as he spoke, as he tried to apologise, just made her feel a little worse. Now he was blaming himself. Perfect.

She also noticed the slight tremble in his hands, the way the arrow jumped a little. She knew there was no way he was going to be able to shoot straight, but was pleasantly surprised when the arrow did in fact impact the target.

“Hey-hey! That’s better!” she grinned, “Looks like you might be pulling to the left, we’ll see with a few more strikes.”

Javelin pulled an arrow from beneath her left arm, passing over a much better made one. Maybe he’d have better luck with one that wasn’t shoddily made.

Javelin glanced at his faceplate, then away for a second. She wanted to say something, but she wasn’t sure if it was a good idea. Sometimes, trying to make things better ended up in making them worse.

But her inner personality found it hard to shut up. She wanted to make up for her mistake, and put him more at ease. He was obviously trying to get past what had happened, but the tense quality to everything, even his speech......the overall awkwardness made things uncomfortable.

She looked back up at him again, and spoke gently, “Hey, listen. Don’t worry about it. You have a...thing, is all. Everyone has a thing, you know? Some things are big, and some are small. Some people don’t even know they have a thing until something happens and there it is. Your thing is your back. You don’t like your back being touched. Nothing wrong with that, and you don’t have to go around warning people either.
Things don’t always make sense. Some of us got them in the war, some were born with them.”

Javelin paused, opening her mouth, closing it again. Then opened it again, speaking once more.

“I have a thing too. My...my bow is my thing. I don’t like it being touched. I don’t mean, like, “Oh hey, pass me my bow.”, I mean like....someone poking at it or....or using it. It’s why I keep it magna-locked to my back. It can’t fall off, but also....because someone once yanked it clear off my back and I....well I ...over reacted, I guess. Got in a lot of trouble. The mech who stole it needed to have his face repaired. He was only joking around, but he said he was gonna break it in half, and I....don’t really remember a lot of what I did, but I kinda messed him up a little.

So...yeah. I understand things. So... I’m ok with yours.”

Javelin awkwardly rubbed the back of her neck, feeling foolish. As usual, she had over-talked and probably made what should have been a simple moment even more awkward.
“Anyway...if you...wanted help working on your thing, I’m up for it.”

Trying to go for a more humorous, lighthearted mood, she grinned, “I could, like, bonk you on your back with a mop or something. A nice wet cold one. All muddy and gross. How’s about that? That would work, right?”

She flashed him a double-thumbs up.

[Carbine]

As the nice arrow was passed his way, Carbine chuckled a bit.

"Oh, I get to upg͢ŕad̡e ţo ̨th̛e ̨bi͢g ̷ki͠d's t-toys now?"

He remarked, folding back to a more normal tone of voice. While the static still betrayed some residual stress, it no longer leaked into the actual pitch of his words, his gaze settling on the weapon and looking it over as it sat in his hand. Really... an arrow was an arrow as far as he was concerned. He couldn't tell you what made this one nicer than the other, he couldn’t explain its balance nor the finer care taken with the guides, but something about it did seem to be of a higher quality more so than the barbed and more lethal tip to it. He could pick up on that much.

Loosely knocking the arrow, but not yet pulling back, the black and white mech would peer over at Javelin as she started to speak, his attention focused upon her words, but... immediately he started to feel defensive. It had nothing to do with her statements, nor the point of her expressions, for what she was saying was true and compassionate, but Carbine had an ego to him, and having his issues and flaws brought up again made his plating itch a bit and made him want to defend himself. He was justified! His fear was valid! It wasn’t something to be pitied in any way! He didn't like being pitied! But was she pitying him? Or was she just being nice?

When she offered her own 'thing' to show it wasn't just him, it seemed to act as a bridge to quell some of his defenses. She was sharing with him a weakness, something that could be exploited later if he was ever pushed into a bad situation. That was a really bad way to look at it, and a really unhealthy response to a teammate being open about their issues, but he couldn’t help it. His processor did what it did, and he could not stop that thought. But while he went dark with his initial internal reaction, he knew enough to recognize it for what it was and appreciated the sentiment, even if he didn't show it well.

"Note to̡ ͠s̸elf then, d-d-on't try to use̕ ͡Javel͠in'́s̴ ͠b̶o̸w͡ ͟as a boomerang!"

A joke, still locked back into the lighthearted mood to try to remove the seriousness as best he could. At her following words however about the mop, some fleeting bits of real amusement seemed to skitter through his suppressed field, peeking out again after recoiling earlier.

"Aww, well if you wa̢nn'a h̡el̴p me with my b-back, th-thąǹ ̡à ni͘c̷e s͡exy backrub with oil and candles can pos̶s̕ibl̸y bȩ ͏ar̡r̷a͏nged."

He would wink at this, obviously joking. Even if the best looking femme alive somehow wooed over him and wanted to rub down his spine and the components along his back, he would probably lose his metaphorical shit and mule kick her across the room like a ragdoll. He wouldn’t cope well, and it would not be a fun experience for anyone involved. But it made a good joke! It honestly helped him snap back more to normality, doing well to mask over emotions to hide things that bothered him or any weaknesses that he may show.

Now that Carbine had a REAL arrow to play with, he drew it back and took his stance once more, trying to keep in mind how he had did the last two times. The trembling and quivering from before had mostly dissipated, no more 'fear shakes', but he did sway ever so slightly, sourced from armature capabilities and a lack of talent for this craft. He would aim carefully, he would try to recognize the fact he had aimed too far left before, and tried to compensate. His processor churned and ticked through small calculations in a blind attempt to do well.

Once more he let go...

It didn't end well.


Carbine's arms both flung up in front of him, and his rotors flared out abruptly to either side, the flat panels of metal almost looking like a dragonfly's wings as they hiked high into the air. He let out a half aborted squank of a noise in response to the arrow coming back to make his acquaintance yet again. It didn't hurt him, it didn’t have enough speed to injure in any way ((especially since the metal tip was soundly dented by the rock wall)), but it was alarming, and he barked out laughing after as he didn't even understand WHAT had gone wrong!

Bolo had relaxed from his earlier tension, feeding off of Carbine's shift in emotions, and in response? He charged over and started to slap at the arrow as it landed on the ground as if it were a snake that was writhing around. Heavy paws thwumped and whacked, the dog's mouth open into a happy grin as he barked at the object in excitement. He didn't know WHY or HOW it attacked master, but boy he was helping!