EP 1 (AR) - Last Friday Night (Open)

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((OOC: Set directly after Losing Marbles thread))

Roulette was feeling good. Which was such a foreign feeling she didn't actually know what to do with herself. She'd never just been at a good place emotionally since...well, she couldn't really recall. Which was so very depressing that the quip about drinking on Megatron's time seemed like a damn fine idea. Just a few drinks. Besides, she was on her down time, technically speaking, and could do as she pleased as long as she didn't slight the Decepticons too badly.

A few drinks never hurt anyone.

Despite her outward calm, Roulette was still nervous about being at a neutral base. There was always a low-lying hum of wariness to her field when she was on the Nemesis and if anything, it hadn't left her here. Perhaps she was always going to be slightly worried about her lot in life no matter where she went. Thinking about it caused a redundant feedback loop about worrying. And she could only take so much worrying about worrying.

The bar seemed ok for a hole in the ground. As she wasn't being pelted with sand or course particulates, she was just fine with where she was. No tiny organic lifeforms were in danger of making themselves home in her plates. She suppressed the urge to shudder at the memory and delicately perched on a chair at the bar.

In a way she was reminded of her former life in Kaon. Sitting at seedy bars with atmosphere so dingy and hostile, one could feel tarnished from close proximity. How many times had she sat with her sister and drank crude rotgut and dreamed about their better futures? Shadow had had such high hopes for herself...

"I just wanted to live..." she muttered to herself and leaned on the counter, chin placed in the palm of her hand.

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Though he'd been pinged by the proximity sensors that someone had entered the bar, Layby had given the femme a few moments to pick a perch and get comfortable before he emerged from out back with two steel drums. They made a hollow sound as he set them down, tucking them neatly to the craggy wall at the edge of the bar.

Coming along to his favourite spot behind the taps, he lay his hands on the polished counter and inclined his head to the Decepticon patron.

"G'day, there," he greeted, warm in voice and field both. "I'm Layby. Looks like I'll be yer medic."

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Upon hearing and feeling nothing but open friendliness, Roulette smiled and slid further onto the counter until both elbows rested on the hard surface. This, she could deal with. And the mech wasn't too shabby, either. She'd always had a thing for large mechs. ...or fliers. Or grounders. Or really anyone with a nice voice and non-homicidal tendencies. Sadly, on her side that was a rare commodity.

"My lucky day. You're just the mech I needed to see. Do you have something as strong as you?" She smiled, showing slightly sharp dental plates behind a pretty smile.

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'Aw shucks, Ma'am' was the immediate response that came up in Layby's mind, but he caught it before it made it to his vocaliser. If Cat ever caught wind that some of those corny films they'd watched together were rubbing off and spilling out in the presence of pretty femmes, he'd never hear the end of it.

The smile, distorted as it was by the deeply carved scar, wasn't tempered, however. He drummed his fingers in a metallic Mexican wave, left then right, thinking. After a moment, he straightened up with a grin. "I reckon so."

It was none of his business if she was on-duty, off-duty, laying low, celebrating, commiserating: only that he serve his function as a neutral audio and supplier of moonshine. It certainly seemed that she needed it.

From beneath the countertop, Layby twisted open a storage cylinder and produced a vial of something silver that slid clean off the sides as it was moved. He held it in his fist to warm it whilst he filled a cube with clear High Grade from the closest tap.

With a last, scrutinizing look at the femme seated at the bar, he set the cube down and held out the vial. "K-Class Spinner. You put this in there. Mind yerself, though: couple of them'll knock a Frontliner off his aft, sitting."

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Manners (what little she possessed) told her not to ask about the scar. But gods, she was so tempted. Battle? Embarrassing accident? Jilted lover? Yeah, she was going to go with the last one. Seemed more exotic and mysterious.

Her grin grew wider as she watched him. His carefree ease behind the counter reminded her of simpler, but not that much better, times. She'd rarely served where she had worked but she'd enjoyed watching the barkeeps do their alchemy with fluid ease. It was a skill few appreciated.

"Did you make these?" She squinted at the vial. "Do I put all of it in? You sure there's going to be room?"

...at some point I should think before I speak. Perhaps this evening would be a good start. She coughed off the innuendo and reached for the cube.

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Layby chuffed a laugh. "Have a little faith - sure yeh can manage."

He watched her pour the mix of sweetners and catalysts into the cube, taking the empty vial as it was handed back. The mixture in her cube came up exactly to the brim, quivering in iridescent ripples. Above it, the air shimmered with vapours.

"Haven't had the binding elements to make up the vials until recently," Layby said, tapping the vial against the bartop for emphasis. "Trade's been good. I think Cleaver's neglected to mention that we use standard credits as well just so she can have more stuff."

The last was said with a rather rueful smile, affectionate and long-suffering.

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She smacked her palm lightly across her helm. She wasn't writing a tedious report to Shockwave for nothing! Leaning back in the chair, she reached into a subspace compartment and pulled out the bartering thing and set it on the counter.

"I have this for trade. It's a ceramic extruder. I have the vaguest of notion as to what to do with this. But I know it's high quality and won't malfunction any time soon. The creator was ah...a bit too technical for me to follow." She muttered to herself, "As always." And she still didn't have the foggiest as to what to do with it. From what she could figure, something about ceramic pastry bags.

Greedily she dragged the cube closer to her, mindful of not spilling any of the fluid. Not wanting to seem like a lightweight, she took more than a dainty sip and enjoyed the delightful sting all the way down to her tanks. This she could get used to.

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"Oh. My. GOD."

The voice echoed across the cavern. It sounded as if it came from somewhere behind Roulette - the doorway of the tavern, perhaps. It sounded shocked.

"Oh baby. Oh, you know that's right. I've never seen one of you around here before! Oh, man, you are so easy on the eyes. I think I'm in love."

Footsteps galloped her way. All at once a rather scruffy grey flier appeared beside her. He came skidding in to the bar, his limbs akimbo and his feet kicking up sparks from the floor. His wings stuck straight up from his back and his orange optics were wide.

Without a shred of hesitation, the stranger leaned over her and stared directly at her chest.

"Holy hell! Where did a sexy little thing like you come from? Baby, you have got to get out of my dreams and into my processing tank!"

He was talking to her drink.

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Roulette wasn't nearly relaxed enough for a stranger to be hitting on her.....drink. At his loud arrival she choked on the mouthful of fuel she had and ended up sucking air down her tubing. Generally speaking, air and fuel didn't make good friends going down.

With a shaky cough, she ended up gulping down a much larger mouthful than she normally would have imbibed in just to push the irritating sensation out. With half of the cube gone, she glowered at the new arrival with a twitchy glare.

"What are you doing?!"

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The grey flier made a noise of chagrin when most of the cube was gulped down. Only the sound of her choking seemed to make him finally notice her.

"What am I doing?" he said. He leaned back and reclined against the bar, resting there on one elbow. "Offhand, I'd say I'm standing here like a putz without getting one of those gorgeous drinks put into my hand. And that is terrible. Hey, barkeep!"

He looked around at Layby and grinned. He waggled a finger at Roulette's cube.

"What do you charge for one of those babies?" he said. "Because I need one like burning! Which is probably the exact chemical reaction that will occur when that stuff chases down the raw engex cut with gasoline I drank like an hour ago. But life is meant to be lived dangerously! Which is exactly the life advice my lawyer once advised I stop listening to before he threatened to drop me as a client."

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Layby accepted the ceramic extruder with a pulse of thanks, slipping it under the bartop. He sent a receipt notice equating its value to as much as it took to get her fendered on this occasion, and set a cube under the High Grade tap.

Deuce was a ball of mischief and trouble with wings, but he certainly kept things colourful. Layby had decided he liked the Seeker after he'd emerged wide-opticed from the Medbay, scoured clean in places he probably didn't know he had, and made straight for the bar without a murmur of complaint. He was grateful for the help and the shelter, and polite on top of the attitude.

Layby was considering letting him have a lock on his room.

"Cutting your fuel like that when Cleaver was saying not but an hour ago how much you'd slagged your tanks..." Layby shook his head, his expression the picture of deep concern and tutting scepticism. "Certainly living dangerously, alright."

He set the cube and vial on the bartop. "Five shanx, or half an hour fixing cabling with me tomorrow. Your call, hot shot."

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Seekers.

Roulette found it hard not to stare at the colorful lunatic next to her. For one, he was absorbing the entire atmosphere of the bar, and another he was in her personal bubble. Granted, she wasn't the prickliest ball of prickles to ever prickle on the Nemesis but neither was Roulette a touchy feely femme. She liked space and she liked to keep strangers at an arm's distance in case she had to...do something. She didn't think she'd have to do anything in a DMZ but weirder things had happened.

Oh, quite being so negative. He's harmless. Just...weird. You've known weirder. You work with one.

With a bemused grin she continued gulping down the drink and watching the barkeep. Who was far from unpleasant to watch and certainly had a way with his hands. Now, wasn't that the wrong avenue for her thoughts to go down?

I meant, she fuzzily debated with herself, that he had nice hands with which to do things with. Bar things. Primus, this drink was good. I need another. I haven't been this relaxed since the last time I Shockwave was away on extended leave and I got into his stash.

She motioned for another drink with a little waggle of her fingers and a smile.

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Deuce considered it.

Money, or labour? He liked his money, and he liked - not doing labour. Well, that wasn't entirely true. Working with cabling would be interesting. He was fascinated by electrical systems in general. Less so by electrical burns.

He rattled his fingers on the bartop, thinking.

"Half an hour of cable repair!" he said. He grinned. "And if you follow up one drink with a second as soon as I toss it down you have me for a solid hour. I'm willing to barter up to five hours or until I pass out, whatever comes first."

Still grinning, Deuce winked at Roulette.

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Some mechs were Bad News when they were on a mission to get cratered. Deuce, once fendered, was a Seeker Puddle and relatively harmless. His mouth got bigger - that was the only downer. The Decepticon femme... Layby was leaning towards flirty more than melancholic under the influence.

To Deuce, Layby gave a curt, authoritative nod. "Done. Part cubes count as whole half hours, and if you get through five hours worth, I ain't having you anywhere near summut with a live charge for at least two days."

His patrons weren't really talking yet (Deuce was talking to her drink, and that didn't count), and Layby wasn't sure if he was currently acting as a peaceful buffer between them or being intrusive.

The big mech took a step back, picked up a cube he was planning on experimenting with and began rubbing oil into it. More than anything it was to look busy. He smiled at the femme. "That going down alright for you, miss?"

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"Mm, hmm. Gimme another." She nudged the empty cube toward Layby with two fingers. And while it was probably a bad idea to imbibe in another stiff drink, she figured one more couldn't hurt. It wasn't like she had many free moments to relax anyway. She half turned in the chair, lazily looking at the Seeker beside her. By now the first drink was starting to make her limbs feel like they were loosely connected to her body by satin strings.

"What is it you said you ingested earlier?"