[ti]Ep 2.5[/ti]Against All Odds [Knock Out]
Jul 4, 2020 2:00:11 GMT -5
Post by Flatline on Jul 4, 2020 2:00:11 GMT -5
"Oh wow-wee... its like a plantigrade build has no idea how a digitigrade works different..."
Should he have been able to nearly lock his knees straight and rest his heels down like the vast majority of their species? He would have been probably fine. Wobbly for sure, a bit off balance... but he felt like his entire center of gravity was slightly off and his legs required management of the tension cables within knee and hock to keep himself leveled. There wasn’t a 'pin it straight and you stand upright' function available to him, especially with his particular stance being so aggressively crooked. If push came to shove, he could maybe TECHNICALLY stand post straight, but whether or not he could do so while also bearing his weight would be bad enough... add in the fact he would be profoundly unstable and top heavy? And no. The only good there was to stretching his leg out like that, was simply when sitting or in bed to just stretch the joints for no other purpose than seeking comfort in the joints.
Flatline knew he shouldn’t be getting snappy, his arm that had been folded across the top of the table crooking up then so he could rub at his own face. He dug one of his knuckles down into the area between his eyes a moment, before his entire hand smeared down, pulling down the bottom 'V' of his eyes a moment before the mesh was permitted to move back to its natural placement.
"Sorry."
No matter how many times he scolded himself to ease back in this conversation, it was like he had absolutely no filter and he couldn’t throttle his insulting comments. He was sure Knock Out studied all different types of builds, and having legs like his were not some magical outlier thing that the other mech had never seen before. He had to know how they functioned, and well... Flatline was just an antagonistic little shit.
"I can help. I can do this..."
There was a sort of determination then, a half formed grimace starting to eek across his features. He just had to possibly treat the desk as a sort of cane? Maybe that would work? Flatline could ease upon it slightly to keep from crooking to one side or another, or to bear some weight if his knee acted up, but otherwise he need only push, while Knock Out could do the actual turning. Flatline could try to play the role of 'brawn', even if he was nowhere near as strong and useful as Breakdown ((or most everyone else)). That other mech could probably grab this thing with one hand and just hock it over to the other side of the room without even a grunt.
Breakdown wasn't here though, and as such it was only two half useless little medical personnel that were flopping around unable to figure out how to socialize with any level of competency.
Moving his arms down, while leaving the cane horizontal across the top of the table, Flatline gripped the outer edges of the metal panel, while he readjusted his feet. His once injured ped lifted up slightly, the hoof like prongs flexing a moment before he planted it firmly down with a click. Flatline made no verbal comment then, no articulation of what he hoped to do, but his posture said much in the way he was gripping the table and how he hooked his body forward. Red eyes would flick up to watch the CMO. Should Knock Out catch onto the idea he was ready to heave his weight forward, and should there be no protest or some sort of comment of 'go', Flatline would push with a snarl, attempting to slide the table across the dirt and stone floor.
Should he have been able to nearly lock his knees straight and rest his heels down like the vast majority of their species? He would have been probably fine. Wobbly for sure, a bit off balance... but he felt like his entire center of gravity was slightly off and his legs required management of the tension cables within knee and hock to keep himself leveled. There wasn’t a 'pin it straight and you stand upright' function available to him, especially with his particular stance being so aggressively crooked. If push came to shove, he could maybe TECHNICALLY stand post straight, but whether or not he could do so while also bearing his weight would be bad enough... add in the fact he would be profoundly unstable and top heavy? And no. The only good there was to stretching his leg out like that, was simply when sitting or in bed to just stretch the joints for no other purpose than seeking comfort in the joints.
Flatline knew he shouldn’t be getting snappy, his arm that had been folded across the top of the table crooking up then so he could rub at his own face. He dug one of his knuckles down into the area between his eyes a moment, before his entire hand smeared down, pulling down the bottom 'V' of his eyes a moment before the mesh was permitted to move back to its natural placement.
"Sorry."
No matter how many times he scolded himself to ease back in this conversation, it was like he had absolutely no filter and he couldn’t throttle his insulting comments. He was sure Knock Out studied all different types of builds, and having legs like his were not some magical outlier thing that the other mech had never seen before. He had to know how they functioned, and well... Flatline was just an antagonistic little shit.
"I can help. I can do this..."
There was a sort of determination then, a half formed grimace starting to eek across his features. He just had to possibly treat the desk as a sort of cane? Maybe that would work? Flatline could ease upon it slightly to keep from crooking to one side or another, or to bear some weight if his knee acted up, but otherwise he need only push, while Knock Out could do the actual turning. Flatline could try to play the role of 'brawn', even if he was nowhere near as strong and useful as Breakdown ((or most everyone else)). That other mech could probably grab this thing with one hand and just hock it over to the other side of the room without even a grunt.
Breakdown wasn't here though, and as such it was only two half useless little medical personnel that were flopping around unable to figure out how to socialize with any level of competency.
Moving his arms down, while leaving the cane horizontal across the top of the table, Flatline gripped the outer edges of the metal panel, while he readjusted his feet. His once injured ped lifted up slightly, the hoof like prongs flexing a moment before he planted it firmly down with a click. Flatline made no verbal comment then, no articulation of what he hoped to do, but his posture said much in the way he was gripping the table and how he hooked his body forward. Red eyes would flick up to watch the CMO. Should Knock Out catch onto the idea he was ready to heave his weight forward, and should there be no protest or some sort of comment of 'go', Flatline would push with a snarl, attempting to slide the table across the dirt and stone floor.