Flashback - Learn to Share - Closed
Jun 19, 2012 7:50:32 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Jun 19, 2012 7:50:32 GMT -5
::As tired as he is?:: It was impossible to make a proper scoffing sound through comm signals, but the overlay of Ironhide's glyphs spoke for itself. ::Next round of drinks that ain't at someone's makeshift still says he's completely out in five kliks.::
Jazz's optics flashed behind his visor with muted humor. ::Five? Think you're underestimating Blue. Bet it takes less than that.::
Ironhide nudged his cohortmate back - carefully, so as not to jostle long legs that were already relaxing, the quiet hiss of easing pneumatics and hydraulics audible in the silence. ::We ain't usin' our sparkling t' nap attack th' Prahm.:: Jazz just LOOKED at him, then pointedly up at the large mech on their sofa, and Ironhide was hard pressed to keep the grin off his faceplates. ::Leastways, not ALL th' time. Yeh gonna share that datapad, or what?::
Jazz obligingly passed the pad over for Ironhide's inspection. The saboteur was also a cagey gambler - it was little more than three kliks later when the fatigue strained field emanating from the figure they were leaning against had eased into the cycled down deepwave of solid recharge, quiet and relaxed.
::Think Blue can keep him out for a few breems?:: Jazz suggested, hopefully.
::Ain't bettin' on it, but we can always hope,:: Ironhide replied. He had sent his own queries out, needing status reports on supplies and how quickly they could be moved. He stretched his legs out, tugging Jazz against his side, his cohort mate a familiar and comfortable presence as they waited for intel that would let them put together a comprehensive report just waiting for Optimus when the large mech inevitably woke up. It felt strange not to have Bluestreak tucked safely against or under his own plates, but the quiet sounds of resting systems was more than worth it. Shuttering his own optics, Ironhide leaned his helm back with a small, contented smile.
<fin!>
Jazz's optics flashed behind his visor with muted humor. ::Five? Think you're underestimating Blue. Bet it takes less than that.::
Ironhide nudged his cohortmate back - carefully, so as not to jostle long legs that were already relaxing, the quiet hiss of easing pneumatics and hydraulics audible in the silence. ::We ain't usin' our sparkling t' nap attack th' Prahm.:: Jazz just LOOKED at him, then pointedly up at the large mech on their sofa, and Ironhide was hard pressed to keep the grin off his faceplates. ::Leastways, not ALL th' time. Yeh gonna share that datapad, or what?::
Jazz obligingly passed the pad over for Ironhide's inspection. The saboteur was also a cagey gambler - it was little more than three kliks later when the fatigue strained field emanating from the figure they were leaning against had eased into the cycled down deepwave of solid recharge, quiet and relaxed.
::Think Blue can keep him out for a few breems?:: Jazz suggested, hopefully.
::Ain't bettin' on it, but we can always hope,:: Ironhide replied. He had sent his own queries out, needing status reports on supplies and how quickly they could be moved. He stretched his legs out, tugging Jazz against his side, his cohort mate a familiar and comfortable presence as they waited for intel that would let them put together a comprehensive report just waiting for Optimus when the large mech inevitably woke up. It felt strange not to have Bluestreak tucked safely against or under his own plates, but the quiet sounds of resting systems was more than worth it. Shuttering his own optics, Ironhide leaned his helm back with a small, contented smile.
<fin!>