Ep. 2 - Shafted (Closed, Megatron, Roulette) Oct 22, 2015 11:53:07 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Oct 22, 2015 11:53:07 GMT -5
Megatron gave the Eradicon the briefest of acknowledgements, glancing at the red visor with a nod. He had eschewed the hose in favour of waiting for a real shower; Roulette just seemed disinclined to move at all.
He sort-of-accidentally nudged her with his foot when he started walking. They’d passed the point where he could hoik her up by the scruff and get her moving.
The walk through the short tunnel to the chamber Russell had indicated was taken in exhausted silence. Just as they entered, the groundbridge bloomed open with the promise of escape. From the cave; the filth, the pain; and the awkwardness, combined.
It was dim on the other side, and the air was thick with the smell of cleanser, wax and polish. The room sensors detected them as they stepped fully out of the vortex, casting a white glow from recessed lights the length and width of the room. It was brighter than the rest of the ship, and felt more spacious for it.
There were dividers set at regular intervals down the walls, each with an array of spigots and sprays suspended overhead. The 3-wall-cubicle structure was not for privacy - only to support the looped extendable hoses and racks of brushes of varying size and thickness. An Eradicon was slender enough to be hidden from view behind a divider, but nothing larger. The floor sloped at a shallow gradient towards the middle line of the room, where grated drains lay in a wide line.
Megatron glanced down at the top of Roulette’s helm before moving towards the middle of the room, leaving her space on all sides to put as much (or as little) distance as she wished. The communal rack was only designed for a maximum of twenty mecha at a time, and his mass took up the space of three, so it was still ‘cosy’.
“If you’re absolutely determined to have a bath and soak in your filth,” he said as he slapped on the cleanser and stepped under the spray, “you could block the drains.”
Stupidly, Roulette thought the awkwardness would ease up once they were out of the cave. The trial was over with. Done. They didn’t have to scrabble at the walls or dig in the dirt like mudbugs. In theory, this was the upswing of the evening. But the staring was just horrendously awful. She’d have to be blind not to notice the nearly palpable excitement being given off by a few of the Vehicons. Sweet Primus, DIDN’T THEY HAVE LIVES OR SOMETHING?
At the nudge she made a grumpy noise that could be taken as a vent clearing. But she was on her feet and following behind him as the groundbridge bloomed in front of them. She was fairly certain the minute they were through the vortex, that cave was going to be alive with heated debates and tittering suspicious gossip the likes of which the Nemesis hadn’t seen before. Oh goody.
Leaving that worry behind, she focused on putting one foot in front of the other into the rather pristine washracks. Wherever they were on the ship, there wasn’t too much activity seen in this area. The hallways leading away from the room were dark and the atmosphere had a cooped up feel to it. Which surprised her as she hadn’t thought the ship large enough for a whole section to not see use. Clearly the ship warranted more exploring by her in the future. Which was perfect as she planned to never run across Megatron again in front of anyone if she could help it. Lest the rumor mill grow terribly out of hand.
“...remind me to start taking my showers down here.” She glanced around, admiring the quiet despite never having been a fan of it before. After the cave, however, she wanted nothing but quiet, dark respite from any excitement. The fact that she was sharing this space with Megatron didn’t count. Possibly.
“I’ll have you know, a bath is supposed to be a treat.” Without questioning her options, she took the shower furthest into the room that still happened to be beside him. If he was going to insult her indulgences, she could at least stick within talking range. “Sink into a pool of hot solvent and stay there until the mood improves or you’re too drunk to get out.”
She’d only ever had that privilege the few times in her life. Her and her sister’s dwelling had had the barest of showers installed. Half the time, they didn’t have hot solvent. But she’d been invited to lavish parties where the theme was rather...festive and involved baths and tubs of bubbling solvent.
Mildly grinning to herself, she slapped on shower and just stood under the hot spray before slumping forward to rest her helm against the wall. Her body was slightly bowed forward, arms folded just under her face and her weight resting on one leg. The water sluiced off the grit, leaving muddy pools to slowly trickle for the drain. If she wasn’t careful, this was exactly how she was going to fall asleep.
The large mech huffed, scowling at the wall. “A wasteful indulgence. Though I suspect Knock Out would gladly join you in a bath-building venture.”
His tone indicated that he was less than happy about that.
Were Megatron able to do so unseen, he’d have adopted a similar position to Roulette’s. Not needing to be constantly alert and actively working for survival had left a vacuum that weariness had suddenly rushed in to fill. Though he’d been engaged in frontline combat for longer and not been left this exhausted, a combination of overheating and the clay gumming up every joint and making all movement an effort had sorely tested his stamina.
He would not lean his head against the wall, but he would sit and let the shower sluice the worst of the muck of his shoulders and back. With one arm damaged and a pre-existing difficulty in effectively scrubbing his backplates, he would be relying on the spray to clean his dorsal plates seams.
Sat hunched on the deck, with his legs parted and knees drawn up, his pedes reached well beyond the divider and almost to the central drain. Megatron let his helm fall forward, and fidgeted his arm under the cleanser. As chunks of mud began to loosen and fall away, the liquid started to work its way to his exposed wires and torn mesh. He pressed his hand to the gouged area to shield it from the worst of the spray.
“How’s your bumper?” he asked in a tone that bordered on absent.