[ti]Ep 2.5[/ti]As If It Were Nothing [Closed]
Jun 1, 2019 0:27:41 GMT -5
Post by Carbine on Jun 1, 2019 0:27:41 GMT -5
Ratchet spoke a lot. He cut in to try to disarm an explosion, swooped back around to offer some clarification and then continued to make his intentions more transparent. He was being forthright and honest, and while Carbine didn't feel like he could trust him fully, just as he had issues trusting just about anyone... he was starting to feel disarmed again like he could offer a bit more than he had been, and try to play ball a bit better. The momentary flare-up and alarm that had been kindled at the idea of undergoing tests a moment prior, was now subsiding down into a simmering fear that crawled beneath his plating like spiders.
Verbal tests.
He... he could do that, or... he could until he couldn’t because of unrelated issues. Respond honestly, or as honestly as he could, try to find a solution or give any tell that something would be amiss or wrong before things go truly south. He could manage that! But... the questions Ratchet asked were a bit outside of something he really knew how to approach. He may not have to think about them right away however, offered an out, but... logic... Logic told him that trying to find a momentary reprieve and to run away from the event could possibly end wrong.
"Bumblebee flipp̢-pep-e͘-turned ov̡èr̕n̵ight, what if we don’t h-have a day?"
Was he going to be sequestered to the brig? Was Bolo going to have to wear a muzzle?! He wasn't going to do either! Or more, he planned to pitch a fit if he was told to do either. Carbine would make do, he would rock that prison cell and make it his bitch if he absolutely had to, but he really didn't want to go back there, so he didn't really wait around for such a subject to be brought up. Instead, he shifted gears.
Sharply, Carbine clapped his hands together, curling the digits over one another but leaving the pointer fingers extended.
"Ok SO̴!͞ ͝I̧'͢m̶ ́g̨o̷ing to level with yah Ratch-"
A chipper tone, masking over his emotions with the all too common facade of humor and confidence. Carbine sounded weirdly normal in a way, bizarrely so, as if they weren't just facing an argument a few seconds prior.
"I can't tell you wha͠t́ fee̕ls n͏o̸rm̡al͢ o̢r w̵h͝at's pissing me off, because my entire life is upside down and I feel like a bund͟le ̶o̵f̕ ra͟ģe ̛tha̶t w-was planning to sock you in the tee̷t̕h th̵e̸ s͝ęcond I saw you."
Happy tones! Maybe that'll smooth over the fact he admitted to planning to hurt their CMO.
"Thund̴e͡r is̨ ͡g͘one, m̀y̡ ̀ba͡ckup friend at-at̶-̕a-͡tacked my dog and will probably die, and I miss my Primus forsaken hover mode!"
Where did that come from?... He hadn't griped or complained about his lack of Cybertronian Altmode in a good long while, but it just slipped out among everything else.
"I feel c-cooped up, I'm not fitting in and I'm waiting day the kźz̵t͘t͞t͡ for Optimus backhands my helm clean off my shoulders. I'm hungry, Bolo's cryi͟ng ͢f́or̢ f́o͞od ́iş dri͜v̵ing me mental, and I can't just shove a dagger into a 'Con's eye and take their shit because o͢f̴ a ͞Tr͡u̢ce."
Bolo flicked his ear a bit towards Carbine though continued to peer straight at Ratchet the entire time.
"I now fear losing control, and people wo̶n't uşe ́t͡he s͘ám̛e͢ r͏e͞straint because I'm the resident dickwad while Bumbleb̸e̛e͞ w̸as ̴a ̶g̡ol̸den child."
He sounded almost PROUD of being the asshole of the base, not really perturbed as he did a slam dunk of information at Ratchet.
"So I don't know what's wh-what, and even if I want͡e͠d ̸to ́br̸in̡g̸ s͜o͡meone in for moral support I don't have anyone. I'm prob́ab́l̸y̢ ̛clos̛ęŗ ͞to̢ ̕you͞ ͞j̕ust from this scraptabulous conver̛-er͞-e͝r-͡sation than I am with ninety percent of the entire Outpost."
His hands changed posture then to fully lace together, as he swung his feet back and forth a bit, almost looking like a kid waiting for their good job lollypop.
Verbal tests.
He... he could do that, or... he could until he couldn’t because of unrelated issues. Respond honestly, or as honestly as he could, try to find a solution or give any tell that something would be amiss or wrong before things go truly south. He could manage that! But... the questions Ratchet asked were a bit outside of something he really knew how to approach. He may not have to think about them right away however, offered an out, but... logic... Logic told him that trying to find a momentary reprieve and to run away from the event could possibly end wrong.
"Bumblebee flipp̢-pep-e͘-turned ov̡èr̕n̵ight, what if we don’t h-have a day?"
Was he going to be sequestered to the brig? Was Bolo going to have to wear a muzzle?! He wasn't going to do either! Or more, he planned to pitch a fit if he was told to do either. Carbine would make do, he would rock that prison cell and make it his bitch if he absolutely had to, but he really didn't want to go back there, so he didn't really wait around for such a subject to be brought up. Instead, he shifted gears.
Sharply, Carbine clapped his hands together, curling the digits over one another but leaving the pointer fingers extended.
"Ok SO̴!͞ ͝I̧'͢m̶ ́g̨o̷ing to level with yah Ratch-"
A chipper tone, masking over his emotions with the all too common facade of humor and confidence. Carbine sounded weirdly normal in a way, bizarrely so, as if they weren't just facing an argument a few seconds prior.
"I can't tell you wha͠t́ fee̕ls n͏o̸rm̡al͢ o̢r w̵h͝at's pissing me off, because my entire life is upside down and I feel like a bund͟le ̶o̵f̕ ra͟ģe ̛tha̶t w-was planning to sock you in the tee̷t̕h th̵e̸ s͝ęcond I saw you."
Happy tones! Maybe that'll smooth over the fact he admitted to planning to hurt their CMO.
"Thund̴e͡r is̨ ͡g͘one, m̀y̡ ̀ba͡ckup friend at-at̶-̕a-͡tacked my dog and will probably die, and I miss my Primus forsaken hover mode!"
Where did that come from?... He hadn't griped or complained about his lack of Cybertronian Altmode in a good long while, but it just slipped out among everything else.
"I feel c-cooped up, I'm not fitting in and I'm waiting day the kźz̵t͘t͞t͡ for Optimus backhands my helm clean off my shoulders. I'm hungry, Bolo's cryi͟ng ͢f́or̢ f́o͞od ́iş dri͜v̵ing me mental, and I can't just shove a dagger into a 'Con's eye and take their shit because o͢f̴ a ͞Tr͡u̢ce."
Bolo flicked his ear a bit towards Carbine though continued to peer straight at Ratchet the entire time.
"I now fear losing control, and people wo̶n't uşe ́t͡he s͘ám̛e͢ r͏e͞straint because I'm the resident dickwad while Bumbleb̸e̛e͞ w̸as ̴a ̶g̡ol̸den child."
He sounded almost PROUD of being the asshole of the base, not really perturbed as he did a slam dunk of information at Ratchet.
"So I don't know what's wh-what, and even if I want͡e͠d ̸to ́br̸in̡g̸ s͜o͡meone in for moral support I don't have anyone. I'm prob́ab́l̸y̢ ̛clos̛ęŗ ͞to̢ ̕you͞ ͞j̕ust from this scraptabulous conver̛-er͞-e͝r-͡sation than I am with ninety percent of the entire Outpost."
His hands changed posture then to fully lace together, as he swung his feet back and forth a bit, almost looking like a kid waiting for their good job lollypop.