[ti]Ep 2[/ti]For a Song [Closed/Vega]

[Deleted]

Sparkplug set to work tacking the hefty armor plate to the wall. The weight began to gradually - and thankfully - lift as Sparkplug drilled into the thick metal. Not a moment too soon, Vega began to feel the strain on her leg as the limb began to quiver. It wasn't enough for any outside onlookers to notice but she could definitely feel it starting. More and more weight lifted as bolts were fitted into place the smaller femme proving first hand her resourcefulness and flexibility. Just how many fixtures did she have hiding away under her plating? Came with the territory of her profession Vega dared to guess.

Finally Vega moved away from the wall pausing just for a moment to warily eye the potential disaster. Even with her size compared to Sparkplug the moment the heavy plate gave in she'd be spending another day- maybe even longer in the medical bay. Knockout would not be pleased...or maybe he would? Hard to say. The heavy black slab didn't so much as shudder. Luckily Sparkplug would have the rest done by lift later.

The bright white and green femme settled onto a crate, nudging another with her foot in invitation to Vega. She settled onto the crate draping her poorer leg over the better, laying her hands neatly in her lap. Eagerly yet professionally Sparkplug inquired of Vega's own weapon systems. A small frown pulled downward on her mouth.

"It saddens me to say I do not have very much in the way of defense, being as it was rare for me to travel to spots of interest without armed fellows in tow. I do however have this."

Reaching for her hip Vega quickly withdrew a simple looking pistol, rub marks on the handle told of many years of use and the barrel glinted with fresh polish. She turned it over in her hands a fondness in her tone as she spoke once more.

"It's nothing grandiose but it has certainly served me well over the course of this war. I can't even fathom how many times I've taken this bloody thing apart and put it back together again. Mayhaps I could even do it with my eyes closed."

Setting the pistol down on her thigh Vega's face pulled into a small grimace.

"And I...do have another weapon in my alt...however I struggle to even call it that. Bloody thing is deplorable."

[Sparkplug]

A tiny little pistol? Sparkplug admittedly wasn't expecting that. Missiles and bombs for long-range bombardment were far more in line with her expectations for the other femme's large frame. All the same, even though Vega expressed regret at her lack of armament, there was something fond in the way she fondled the small weapon, and in the familiarity with it built up over great depths of time.

For once, Sparkplug recognised when it would be unwelcome and inappropriate to offer to rebuild it into something with a little more firepower, or even replace it entirely. This once, it would be better to gloss over the obvious potential for upgrades.

Even if she could do so much with a frame like Vega's.

Occupied with these thoughts, she misheard the tail-end of Vega's sentence, and looked up at Vega questioningly. She had another weapon in her aft? That was ...a pretty non-standard location for offensive capability. Though, now she thought about it, that aft could be considered a weapon in its own right...

Realisation struck.

"Oh! You said in your alt. Right, right." That made far more sense. "Well, you're still here, and you've gotten through the war this long, so I guess that pistol's served you well. You don't have to have the biggest guns around to be in the right place at the right time to make a difference."

Sparkplug cocked her head, grinning wryly. "Mind you, I do like big guns. My chassis, I know inside and out and back to front. I know exactly what I can fit into it, how much energy I can squeeze out of my on-board converters and how to make the best use possible of it."

Her hand moved across her gleaming white plating, touching her shoulder. The twin rectangular headlights pivoted upwards as she indicated them, revealing eight snub-nosed little missiles under each. "So under the headlights on my shoulders, here, I've got a pair of two-by-four micromissile racks. Ammunition underneath, in an armoured box with a blow-out release in case of internal explosion. If I get shot in the shoulder and the ammo detonates, I won't enjoy it, but it won't blow my helm off. Not got the room for a lot of ammunition, but they don't take any noticeable energy to fire, so they add offensive capacity without putting more load on the energon converters."

Letting the lights swing back down into place, her slim grey hand moved down to her lower torso, where two swirls of white plating irised open, allowing the snub-noses of a pair of eight-barrelled rapidshot blasters to slide out a little. "Now here, these are a pair of rapid fire systems. You can spit out a lot of plasma if you don't have to wait for the barrel to cool between shots. Light-grade offensive weapons, but catch a bolt in the faceplate and you'll regret it, and they soften up armour for the main event."

The short-barrel gatling guns slid back into her torso, plating sealing over them. Her smile was wide, her optics bright, radiating enthusiasm as she got to show off her own modifications to her chassis. Stretching out her oddly jointed silver arm, she passed her right hand over it, palm upwards, in the manner of someone showing off an expensive product. "This right here is the serious business. Chained capacitor banks, focusing assemblies, energy collimators - I get a respectable output out of the cannon here, you better believe it."

She considered unfurling the weapon, but paused, then grinned up at Vega. "So tell me about this deplorable weapons system of yours, I'm real curious now."

[Deleted]

A quizzical cant of her finials, a slant of her mouth. What had Sparkplug heard differently? A feeling of hesitation...maybe it was best to leave things unsaid. Vega smirked as Sparkplug praised the fortitude of the small firearm. True, she was here despite the war and surviving on their dying planet. She had lived through it and was sitting here despite the odds.

"Very well put."

Vega nodded as Sparkplug went into detail of her adoration for large scale armaments. Something Vega too admired from a distance with great envy. Then the smaller femme began to flaunt her own mods. Fins pointed straight up against one another and a smile Vega listened intently as Sparkplug showcased her own weapons systems. She was far more surprising than she appeared. Tools and countless missiles hidden away under her plating.

Vega wondered where she fit it all and for a moment juggled the idea of asking what else she had under that shiny plating. But then the smaller femme asked about her own weapons system. A grimace crossed her face and for a moment she was silent. Suddenly feeling slightly inadequate by comparison.

"I struggle to even call it a weapon system. The twin guns in my alt are better at range and I suppose have better piercing power...but they are so bloody inaccurate. They'd be better use in distraction then actual aerial combat. It gives me such grievance outside of close combat."

She shook her head disapprovingly. It was such an embarrassment honestly, certainly in the current company. Sparkplug was a proverbial walking armory and Vega had to admit to being an envious shade of green. What could Sparkplug do with her frame? Just what ideas did she have floating around in that head of hers.

Vega wanted to know. Desperately.

[Sparkplug]

Sparkplug listened with her head canted to one side, pulling a face as Vega laid out the true inadequacies of her alt-mode weapons systems. With a small snort, she replied, "Heck, when you said the weapons system was deplorable, I thought you meant ethically unjustifiable, not just terrible."

Wrapped up in her thoughts, she didn't really think how insulting her words might have sounded. Frowning thoughtfully at Vega, her bright green optics tracked her from head to ped; even sitting, the flier was immense. "Look at you, though. You've got a really big frame, there's no way there isn't room in there for more than what you've got. Got to have a decently powerful energon converter, too, just to run it all. And there's no spare capacity to run some plasma generators off? No way. I don't believe that for a nano-klik."

She hopped up onto her peds, frowning in concentration. "Stand up, and hold your arms out to your sides. I need to have a look at your chassis." Not that she hadn't been looking at Vega's chassis anyway, but that was personal interest, and this was professional. Moving in close, Sparkplug's small hands moved over the large flier's ebony plating, exploring where her joints and articulation points lay with the kind of methodical thoroughness that paid no attention to personal space whatsoever. Reaching up, she grasped one arm and moved it carefully, then shook her helm and lifted Vega's arm back into place straight out from her side, returning her attention to the femme's main body.

Her faceplate locked in a mask of concentration, Sparkplug lay her helm against Vega's chest, one audial pressed against her plating, and began tapping with her fingertips across the expanse of her armour. She could hear the hum and gurgle of the energon pump beneath the plating, listening past it for the reverberations of each tap. It was no replacement for a full-body scan, but it wasn't the first time she'd been challenged to analyse a mecha's frame without the use of any external tools, and she liked to think she was fairly good at it.

The long structural members resonated in a way that made her mutter, "Honeycomb struts, I think." It made sense; strong struts but still fairly light, more important for an airframe. As her hands moved around Vega's sides, she nodded with satisfaction to herself to hear a more hollow boom. Her mechanisms were less dense at her flanks, with the bodywork smoothed over for aerodynamic performance - probably, anyway. "Sounds promising..." she murmured. Lifting her head abruptly, she stepped around Vega, standing on the crate the other femme had been sitting on to examine the upper reaches of her back. Slim, pointed fingers played over Vega's plating either side of her spine. "Mmhm. Think so."

Stepping off the crate, her elongated arm dipped into one of the boxes of miscellaneous odds and ends, and she scooped out a thick black marker. Gesturing absent-mindedly to Vega, she beckoned her over to the end wall, where the slab of armour plating loomed, and began drawing on it. A few rapid strokes of the pen sketched out the outline of Vega's torso, from the front, the back and the side.

Tapping the flanks of the sketched torso, Sparkplug added two sliding panels that slid out from either side, just above her waist, each occupied by three vertically stacked circles. Drawing a line from the circles, she outlined a long, streamlined shape that was obviously a missile, then drew inside the torso a pair of vertical racks holding six more circles each. As she drew, she said aloud, "Reckon you've got some air gaps in your flanks we can work with. So what we can do is - pending me giving you a proper scan to make sure I've got the right grasp of your internals - shift a few mechanisms into your core, and fit in a pair of missile racks. You're pretty broad, so we can fit them front to back, gives more room than if they had to fit top to bottom. Nine either side gives you three volleys of six. Long-range tracking missiles; nothing fancy, but hard to shake, and getting hit by one will really spoil your planetary cycle."

It was obvious that Sparkplug in her element was gleefully enthusiastic, putting her regular garrulousness to shame with her rapid-fire explanations. Moving to the next outline, Vega from behind, she went on, "As for guns, let's go external to give ourselves a little more room to work with. What I'm thinking is a pair of medium range blaster rifles, but we don't want to get bored with that, so let's make them variable rate." She sketched a pair of long-barrelled weapons lying flat against Vega's back, parallel with her spine, then on the sketch of her from the side, added them moved up into active firing position, the barrels over her shoulders and parallel with the ground, either side of her helm.

"Stowed against the back, deployed over the shoulder. Limited arc of fire before the barrel smacks you in the faceplate, so you'll have to turn your torso at least vaguely towards the target, but that's not so bad. Being variable rate, you can either fire bigger bolts less frequently, like a regular blaster, or turn up the rate to a hail of small bolts, which ought to be better for aerial fighting." She glanced over her shoulder at Vega, and added, "Decent targeting software, too. Shouldn't be a problem; not having another system that can't hit Unicron's aft while you're standing on it. Full replacement of your existing guns. I'll have to have full scans of your primary and alt to get the details right, but if you've been spending as much time with Knock Out as you say, he ought to have the data I need. How's that sound?"

She stood beside the brief sketches, a bright grin on her faceplate, positively radiating enthusiasm, and seemingly unaware of just how thoroughly she'd steamrollered Vega's ability to interrupt.

[Deleted]

Offensive or no Sparkplug was right. Vega would have honestly perfered something unjustifiable over this embarrassment. And again: Sparkplug was right. She was far larger than most femmes, her frame had so many possibilities now that she put thought to it. The smaller femme stood motioning for her to stand so she could inspect her.

Vega rose from the crate spreading her arms out wide as she was instructed to. As the femme - who was shockingly silent in her focus - examined her, twisted her arm about, and examined her black plating she remained still and silent. Allowing Sparkplug to focus on her superficial inspection. Then....she got a little closer.

She willed herself not to falter as Sparkplug simply placed her head against her chest plate. This was an examination, Sparkplug doing what she knew best. Still it was a little strange. Judgment would be withheld until the results were seen however. Unconventional methods often led to spectacular results. Thus Vega remained still and allowed Sparkplug to work.

Then the florescent femme stepped to a box and withdrew a large marker, tossing an offhanded gesture toward Vega as she did. The large femme stood still against the armour plating as Sparkplug set to work tracing her frame from three different points of view. One from the front, another from a profile, and then a rear view. Sparkplug then began making quick and precise strokes as she scribbled out a the rough idea she had in her head.

Then she began to go into lengthy detail over her designs. And they were awe inspiring.

It was obvious Sparkplug couldn't be more in her element, and loved being there. The over powering excitement in her field, how she spoke even quicker and with more purpose than before. She went into glorious detail over the changes she had in mind for the large flier's frame. And Vega hung on every word.

"Good Lord," she muttered awe struck "that sounds marvelous!"

Vega had never stopped to consider all the possibilities that her frame held. She had been given a bare minimum of what she needed in order to fight the enemy. But that was always a when push came to shove situation. She never traveled alone, her superiors always assigning at least two body guards to over see her as she worked. And honestly? It always bothered her.

She was just as capable as any other Decepticon. She under went the same training they had. This was a chance to better her stance as a single fighter. Vega was tired of sitting on her hands. Well, she had no choice right now with the treaty in play. But this meant the moment it was no longer in effect she could reap the benefits of this...strange yet pleasent encounter.

"When can we start?"

[Sparkplug]

"Right awa-" Sparkplug began, glowing with enthusiasm, then her optics flicked to the empty chamber, the trolley of equipment and pieces standing forlornly to one side, and her enthusiasm dipped a notch. "Oh. Right. ...later, then, I guess. Forgot where I was for a nano-klik there. So used to just - leaping on an idea like that, you know? Like a starving predacon on an energon crystal. Or on a lost minicon. Something like that."

Looking around the room, mentally populating the empty floor and barren walls with workstations, she started over. "What I mean is, we can start once I've finished kitting out this place. I've got to get work surfaces in, standing tools, a decent lathe... got to beg or borrow a microcircuitry clean rig from somewhere..."

She caught herself drifting off on a tangent again, and reined herself in sharply. Her vents flicked a little wider as she drew a deep, cooling draught of air into her system, and her optics turned back up towards Vega's. "It won't be in the next few planetary cycles. That's what I mean. I'm really excited to work on you, Vega. Not only will it be fun to get stuck into that kind of work again, it'll be a real joy to get to make some real, tangible improvements to your design. I'm gonna be really proud of getting to work on you, and by the time I'm finished, you are figuratively and literally going to blow them away with the armaments I can get installed in your frame."

Her smile turned wry. "Honestly, I can't wait to get started. And I know that if I was you, I'd be so excited that I could barely stand still. But as much as I want to go right now and beg or borrow time in Knock Out's lab, or Flatline's, I need to do this without rushing, and I need to do it right. Soon, though. I promise."

It had actually been a pretty long time since she hadn't had instant access to an array of fabrication equipment that would make a constructicon green - even more green than usual - with envy. If there was one thing to say about the Decepticon science division, they certainly didn't skimp on the facilities. Especially for weapons development labs. But she could do a good job with a lot less than that, once she got a few fundamentals in place.

And it went without saying that working on Vega would require the two of them to spend more time together. A lot more. They couldn't exactly go for a scenic drive together, given the difference in their frames, but Sparkplug was sure they could work out something nice to do.

Her small, delicate hand came to rest on Vega's chest plating, smoothing over it slightly before withdrawing. "It's nice plating," she added aloud, though mostly to herself. "I'll have to give you a fresh coat of paint afterwards, buff you up nicely until you shine. Got a buffer built in, you know. It'd be nice to polish you up sometime, when you're not busy."

[Deleted]

The enthusiasm radiating from the smaller femme diminished, and Vega was quickly reminded of their current position. Vega had no doubt that given the proper equipment Sparkplug would have the flier outfitted in mere hours, but all she had was an empty room and a trolly over full with the pieces of a work station. Vega quickly reigned her own vigor, giving a half smirk to Sparkplug.

"Seems we both did." Vega gave a huff of a laugh.

Once again Sparkplug began prattling, listing off what installments she required before work could begin. Not for another few planetary cycles, a far more impatient bot would be fairly miffed by that prospect. But Vega had been graced with patience in spades. She was eager to finally upgrade but was not going to make a fuss about having to wait. Clearly Sparkplug took great pride in her work and that was something Vega resonated with very deeply.

"I am very eager, I have no doubts that your work will be absolutely blinding. However I have no qualms with waiting, a job isn't worth doing if it cannot be done properly."

Abruptly Sparkplug again touched her plating but as quickly as she was there she moved away again. Vega was by no means vain, in all honesty she would gladly strip her own paint off if it meant getting to see another day. But the gesture Sparkplug offered was kind and Vega could not bring it unto herself to turn her away.

"Thank you, and much appreciated. I can't even recall when I actually looked top, it would be a welcomed change of pace."

[Sparkplug]

"Can't remember the last time, huh?" Sparkplug grinned at the larger Decepticon, shaking her helm slightly. Clearly Vega didn't appreciate herself the way Sparkplug was inclined to. "Well, we'll have to fix that."

Still... priorities. Sparkplug's glowing green gaze slid away for a moment, drifting over the boxes of odds and ends littering the floor, leading down towards the massive armour slab decorating the end wall. There was a lot of work to do here, no doubt of that, and she'd been instructed to carry out the work by no less a figure than the second in command of the whole Decepticon armed forces. And even if that wasn't enough to remind her of her duties, there were all the designs and projects she wanted to work on.

In the past, Sparkplug had been known to get so tied up in her projects that she forgot to refuel on a regular basis, the hollowness of insufficient energon and the blinking fuel warnings simply tuned out as not relevant to the problem she was working on. She was something of an obsessive personality, in that respect, capable of getting lost in a situation to the exclusion of all else.

On the other hand, Sparkplug had been working in a lab for a long time with a trio of other scientists that she liked a lot, but they didn't flip each other's switches that way. The last mecha that she'd actually been interested in had left Antilla a long time ago. Now, here she was on a big ship full of fascinating opportunities, and one was staring her right in the optics.

All things considered, she decided, she was due a little personal time.

"Well, now. It's not like I have to wait until the lab's all ready for hard-engineering to do something about that. You've got a nice colour scheme running there, suits your frame. I can give you some touch ups, cover the scuffs, wipe out any sun-fading on the purple... then, yeah, I can give you a nice going over with a buffer." Wouldn't that be a lovely way to spend some time. "You can always brighten up a planetary cycle with some hot wax," she concluded aloud.

The lab, as it was, wasn't much fit for that sort of thing. Keeping Vega standing would keep her from relaxing and enjoying being tended to, and the med bay definitely wasn't the sort of place that engendered relaxing feelings. Cocking her helm, Sparkplug added, "Y'have some kind of personal quarters I can give you a going over in?"

[Deleted]

Sparkplug seemed quite intrigued by her words, a tilt in her helm and a hum to her tone. Seemed she had half a mind to change that. Vega found no reason to argue, she wasn't exactly on a deadline herself. A little R&R was never frowned upon by the scientist. Seemed Sparkplug noticed things about her even she was not aware of.

Had her purple been fading? The small patch at her wing tips had looked the same to her, though that may have been her own oversight. A gradual change in something seen every day was not so easily noticed. "Thank you, and I had not noticed fading anywhere if I were honest. I have never taken the same level of pride in my outward appearance as some others but I see no harm in it."

Vega had always taken much more pride in her accomplishments in her field of study. She held no grudge to anything or anyone who damaged her paint, it was an inevitably in some situations. But there was no shame in indulging now. Sparkplug then asked something....slightly questionable if taken in the incorrect context.

She had not worded it quite right and one of a more..."inappropriate" mentality would have gotten quite the chuckle from it. But Vega was not of that sort, the context was different here. "Yes I do, it isn't terribly far in fact." If she had her bearings correct it was only a minute or two walk away, towards the stern of the ship. She shifted her weight toward the door, taking a few lazy steps forward to lean casually against the wall. She turned her attention to the smaller femme waiting as she gathered what she needed from the mess on the floor.

"Perhaps once you are finished we could go for a drink. I hear tell the neutral base has a bar of sorts."

On any other day she tuned out the drabble of the Vehicons around her. But the moment one had made mention of the Neut bar she made several mental logs of it. It had been ages since she had a decent drink and she saw no issue in inviting her new acquaintance along. Good company made any drink better.

[Sparkplug]

Vega's offer brightened up Sparkplug's field considerably. "A bar, huh? Yeah, that'd be right nice. I've heard there's a neutral settlement on this planet - which is weird, that sort of thing usually gets squashed, or the neutrals chased off-planet, or recruited, or something - but if they've got a decent bar and a place to hang out, all's forgiven."

Following Vega out of the workshop, Sparkplug touched a couple of controls on the door panel. The door slid obediently closed, a blue light flashing on the panel as it locked itself. "Primus knows, there's nothing worth stealing in there anyway," she remarked mostly to herself, "But there's such a thing as the look of the thing. Hang on, let me check something."

Looking down at her long, oddly structured left arm, she flexed the joints. A ripple of transformation ran over it up to the first joint, restructuring it into a sharply angled nozzle. A panel slid back on her upper arm, revealing several slim cylinders with inset transparent strips, and she tapped a couple of them, checking the levels within. Nodding to herself, she snapped the panel closed with a flick of her arm.

"Got enough on-board for detail work. If I had to do a whole chassis spray, I'd need to get some external paint cans, but grey and purple is common enough that I have some, and I can do some pre-mixing to get the shade right." Looking up at Vega, Sparkplug nodded to herself, then started walking, taking two quick steps for each one the larger femme took.

"I've got a lot of tools on-board," she remarked as they strolled down the corridor. "Comes in useful in the work I do, and it's kind of a hobby to see what else I can work in there without degrading the cannon. Now and then, I have to swap stuff out, or redesign it, when I'm tweaking other things in there. It's amazing how much you can pack in, if you get each piece to have multiple uses."

Looking up as Vega's steps slowed, she glanced around herself. "Is this it?" she asked curiously. While she hadn't noticed any specific weathering of Vega's paint job, other than the inevitable small scratches and abrasions, she was definitely looking forward to spending some time polishing the big femme up.

[Deleted]

"It certainly is all that matters to myself anyway." It was odd that the pacifists had not been assimilated into either side and simply left be but Vega would not be raising any fuss or loose any recharge over it. They were of little consequence as long as they kept her inebriated. She purposefully slowed her gait to let Sparkplug keep up watching as yet more surprises came from the smaller femme. She had on board paint canisters and applicators as well, what was next? "It seems so." She muttered to her obvious statement of having a lot of equipment built into herself. Her ingenuity was something to behold...for better or for worse was to the individual discretion. Some might find that amount of self body modification horrific, she herself was not concerned. Obviously it was working in her favor. No reason for alarm.

She turned into a corridor and followed along it for several meters before pausing by a door to her left. "Indeed it is." She confirmed quickly running her claws over the display on the panel beside her, the door hissing obediently open afterward. The other side was nothing special really. It was clean, the only thing considered 'clutter' being a pair of data pads laid on a low metal table off to the left. A berth hid in the immediate right hand corner and that made the contents of the room. Vega hated unnecessary clutter in her space, the simpler her means the better.

"It certainly isn't anything remarkable, but I prefer it that way."

She strode inside pivoting to the right and stepping toward the large metal slab she rarely actually used to recharge on. Rest was inconsequential when there was work to be done. "Do you prefer I stand first or is there no preference?"

[Sparkplug]

You could tell a lot about a mecha from their living space. If you entered Shockwave's quarters, for instance, Sparkplug imagined you'd see neatly arranged workstations, powerful terminals, and several experimental subjects-slash-victims stapled to the wall in alphabetical order. Knock Out's quarters would be expensively tidy, all lounging chairs and tables that doubled as artworks, with an expansive array of polishing and buffing tools in a neat case. Her own room, given any length of time, would be cluttered with half-built pieces of technology, datapads and tool racks.

Vega's room was spartan to the point of being almost unoccupied. This was the room of someone that had better things to do than lounge around in her recharging space, and had little time, nor patience, for frivolities. Sparkplug filed the thought away, stepping inside.

"Lie down," Sparkplug told the big femme, with a pleasant little spark of anticipation. "You're too tall for me to see what I'm doing on top of your shoulders, otherwise. Don't you worry, I'll take good care of you."

Remembering to consciously tone down the enjoyment leaking into her field, Sparkplug gave Vega space to lie down, then stepped up to her side. Laying her right hand on the other femme's shoulder, Sparkplug said, half to herself, "Let's start with the colour accents. Then I can sort out the black, and then... wax."

Running her hand down Vega's proportionately slimmer upper arm to her forearm, the small femme frowned thoughtfully, then brought the spray gun currently replacing her left hand to bear on a small, neatly bordered stripe of red paint. With a soft hiss, she sprayed a little paint spot, then shook her helm, paused, then sprayed again, covering the little spot with a slightly darker shade of red that matched the existing colour perfectly. Nodding to herself, she internally tweaked a few valves, and sprayed a test spot onto the adjacent patch of grey, saving each colour configuration to long-term storage as she matched them.

"Alright, now I've gotcha..." she murmured. Slipping her hand under Vega's forearm, she lifted it gently, turning it slightly this way and that as she sprayed over every little scratch and scrape. "Jest you relax," she said softly, as she worked up Vega's arm to the shoulder, and touched up the coloured edges of her wings. "I'll do your whole front, including the polish, then I'll turn you over and do your back, alright?"

Inwardly, Sparkplug had to admit she was enjoying handling Vega's impressive frame, but the spray-paint was merely the preamble to the main event; polishing her thoroughly. Still, touching up Vega's paint beforehand was important to get a smooth, even gloss afterwards, and Sparkplug's inherent professionalism wouldn't let her get away with a job that was anything less than perfect. Beginning to hum softly, quietly enough that the hiss of the spray gun drowned it each time she applied another touch up to Vega's chassis, she worked over the prone flier, coating and blending as she went.

[Deleted]

"I hold no doubts about that."

Vega nodded with a ghost of a smile before turning to sit then lie on her back for Sparkplug to begin her work. The smaller femme walked around to her side rolling one arm to the long stripe of red paint on it's underside. Sparkplug ran the spray tip along her arm seemingly disapproving of the shade and retrying a moment later. She ran the tool along several parts of her arm, testing each shade before moving on to the next. Vega simply let her roll her arm around as she set to work matching each color before setting to work. Relax. That was something she hadn't done in ages. It didn't come easy to her now as it had in her past. Earlier in her life all she needed was a halfway decent drink and she was content. But now she had made a habit of always being alert and on edge. But as requested she let her guard down and left Sparkplug to her work.

She wasn't exactly in danger at this point in time and even if she were she was sure Sparkplug would rouse her. Vega listened to the soft hissing of the paint applicator making that the focal point in her relaxed state. It was strange being this still, usually she began feeling anxiety crawl up her back right away. Her hands weren't used to being idle. It was something she had carried with her for most of her life. It had begun as something simple, just her being a diligent working. In more recent years it stemmed from the fear and very real threat of death if she didn't keeping moving. But Vega relented keeping focus on the soft sounds around her to remind herself of the situation she was in right now.

Barely able to be picked up she heard Sparkplug humming softly as she worked, it was just a whisper compared to the much louder hiss of the paint gun.

"What is that? I don't recognize that tune."

Frequenting bars a in her area Vega was no stranger to the many genres of music their people back home made. But this...was different. Was it from Earth? If so...why? Why would anyone bother with music from this pathetic excuse for a planet?

[Sparkplug]

Sparkplug had a veritable cornucopia of tools installed within her frame, for every task involved in stripping down a frame all the way up to cleaning and detailing after reconstructing it from scratch. One thing she was missing, however, was a convenient drinks dispenser. Nonetheless, she seemed to be doing a sterling job of getting the big flier to relax under her patient care.

"Hm?" Sparkplug murmured, distracted from her work for an instant by the question. "Oh, right. Hadn't even noticed I was doing that. Something from the local saps. No idea what it's called; didn't pay that much attention. Real nice to be somewhere there actually is a bit of local noise on the radio frequencies. Where I've been for the longest time, the only sound you get is your flatline crackle of radiation. Pretty repetitive, the beat's lousy, and you can't dance to it."

Sparkplug grinned wryly, finishing off a little scrape near a joint - near invisible even before she'd gotten to it, but she was a perfectionist. "Not that I've got a real fondness for the squishies. After hitching a ride here - not with the local species, another lot - well, I've properly had enough of organics for a while, and the fact they're messing with us just shows they're either ignorant or crazy. Sooner we give them a quick kicking and remind them to keep out of our war - which we've been getting on with just fine without audience participation - the better. But, well. You know how things are."

Lifting her arm into the air, Sparkplug flicked her odd double elbows, paint sprayer collapsing and restructuring into a broad, circular buffer. Giving it a moment to heat up, she went on, "Can't remember the last time I heard a new piece of music from the old bands. Not many of them left, not many musical types posted together, and no one's wasting interstellar bandwidth on showtunes. But this lot? You can hardly find a wavelength that isn't full of their clattering and chatting and singing. Been listening to it while I work. Now, let's get you polished up nice and shiny, alright? Femme like you, you deserve to look your best."

Bringing the buffer down, she slid the soft, white pad over Vega's chestplate. It spun and subtly vibrated, hot wax extruding from a nozzle at the centre, then spread out and smoothed by the heated polishing pad. Everywhere the pad stroked, the paintwork glistened and shone, the colours deeper and more intense. "There now, doesn't that feel nice?" Sparkplug asked, mostly rhetorically.

[Deleted]

Noise was something Vega could do without in all honesty. She never minded it and was in a way adapted to a lot of it. It was very rare to visit a quiet bar - at least ones that didn't charge a small ransom for drinks that were always more diluted than the local dive down the way. But she often tuned out the celebratory cheers and the hoots from the bots cheering on their friends in the free fight for the night. Silence was something that most people felt anxious about - and Vega could easily see Sparkplug being that sort of personality. It made other folks uneasy, but Vega enjoyed it when she was fortunate enough to find it.

Then the subject shifted from how one couldn't really dance to the clicking of a radiation reader to the local organic life. And that Vega could easily agree to. "I hold little love for the organic life myself, pests really. The sooner we remove them the better." This conflict had nothing to do with them. While, yes their home was temporarily being used as the battle ground, that gave them no rights to meddle. It puzzled her how they hadn't taken an effort to eradicate the humans certainly now after they had done damage to either side of the war effort. But their orders were clear and she would follow them regardless of how she did or did not feel.

Content with her work the paint applicator was promptly swapped with a buffer and after a moment Sparkplug ran the tool across the fresh paint on Vega's chest plate. Where the warm wax rubbed had left a shine she hadn't seen in what felt like a life time. Vanity was never something she had any fantasies about having - rather she hardly paid any mind to her own self - but Sparkplug had a point. This did feel quite nice.

"I will admit, while vanity is something I care very little for, it does feel quite nice. Thank you"