Ep 1 - Idle Hands Are the Devil's Playthings (Open)
Jan 15, 2014 21:56:54 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Jan 15, 2014 21:56:54 GMT -5
((OOC: Set after Avon Calling and free to anyone to join.))
Habit was beginning to be the the downfall of Roulette. As much as she loathed having anything to do with Shockwave, there was a certain sureness in his actions and (ugh) logic that was almost soothing. Well...perhaps not soothing. That word didn't mesh well with the purple menace. Perhaps it was his usefulness as a fount of information that kept Roulette coming back.
That was surely the problem, wasn't it? She'd grown to rely on his precious logic. In her own terrified way she'd grown used to his presence on Cybertron. How demented was that? A whole ship full of mechs and here she was, hieing back to him on the whim of some stupid questions that had popped into her head.
Gods, he didn't do something to me when I wasn't looking, did he??
Memories of the incident with a tracking chip reared its ugly head. In the gloom she shuddered hard enough to nearly dislodge one of her pistols. Ew.
I'm making an appointment with the doc first thing after this.
It wasn't like she often sought him out. Reverse, really. But she kept tabs on him probably more than he kept tabs on her. Survival dictated she know where and when he was at all times. The best avenue was the drones. They were so helpfully observant and willing to trade information over menial things.
She didn't know what he was up to and didn't care. The drones mentioned that he'd had several large boxes carried into his lab which meant he was going to be busy with something. That something insured her safety. He was less prone to be...threatening when he had a project to occupy his time.
Assured of her survival rate (or at least relatively sure he wasn't going to jam a probe somewhere unpleasant) she opened the doors to his lab and peeked in. All questions she'd had were gone as she took in the towering boxes. What in the human's devil was he up to?
"Spring cleaning?" Internally she smirked and doubted very much he would get the human vernacular.
Habit was beginning to be the the downfall of Roulette. As much as she loathed having anything to do with Shockwave, there was a certain sureness in his actions and (ugh) logic that was almost soothing. Well...perhaps not soothing. That word didn't mesh well with the purple menace. Perhaps it was his usefulness as a fount of information that kept Roulette coming back.
That was surely the problem, wasn't it? She'd grown to rely on his precious logic. In her own terrified way she'd grown used to his presence on Cybertron. How demented was that? A whole ship full of mechs and here she was, hieing back to him on the whim of some stupid questions that had popped into her head.
Gods, he didn't do something to me when I wasn't looking, did he??
Memories of the incident with a tracking chip reared its ugly head. In the gloom she shuddered hard enough to nearly dislodge one of her pistols. Ew.
I'm making an appointment with the doc first thing after this.
It wasn't like she often sought him out. Reverse, really. But she kept tabs on him probably more than he kept tabs on her. Survival dictated she know where and when he was at all times. The best avenue was the drones. They were so helpfully observant and willing to trade information over menial things.
She didn't know what he was up to and didn't care. The drones mentioned that he'd had several large boxes carried into his lab which meant he was going to be busy with something. That something insured her safety. He was less prone to be...threatening when he had a project to occupy his time.
Assured of her survival rate (or at least relatively sure he wasn't going to jam a probe somewhere unpleasant) she opened the doors to his lab and peeked in. All questions she'd had were gone as she took in the towering boxes. What in the human's devil was he up to?
"Spring cleaning?" Internally she smirked and doubted very much he would get the human vernacular.