[ti]Ep 3[/ti]Click. Click. BOOM! [ Closed | Javelin ]

[Deleted]

Timeline: Week 1 | Day 4 | Late Evening - at the time of Essential Foundations

Summary: Wheeljack is taking advantage of most of the base being distracted by Optimus Prime's training session to do some meager work of his own in silence.

---

     Silence was usually deafening to others, but Wheeljack was so used to it at this point in his life that it was more than welcoming- especially when it came to Omega base. There had been so many new arrivals since the last time he was here that it was almost overwhelming. There were so many voices to take in at once and many of them seemed to have sporadic conversations here and there at the same time. He'd noted that there wasn't much of a quiet place to retreat to anymore- he would leave one room and cross into another and there would either be someone there talking to someone else, or someone looking to engage him in some.

     The old Wrecker just wasn't for it. He needed the quiet and the calm. He tried to keep as much nonsense off his processor as possible so he could focus on things he needed to get done but it just wasn't working in his favor. Bulk knew this about him, but no one else did. Good thing for him that he didn't hide it. Not that he cared if he hurt anyone's feelings by just turning and walking out of the room in the middle of their sentence.

     Right now he didn't have to do that. Everyone was busy in some strange sparring session, and while Wheeljack always enjoyed a good fight, he didn't care for the company. He'd passed by the room and noticed that their 'fearless leader' was there, so he called it good and decided that wasn't his swig of oil. He hadn't seen the Autobot leader fight before, and though curious about what skills he may have, he wasn't curious enough to risk being disappointed. From what he had observed in these situations it was uncomfortably familiar to the gladiator pits in Kaon, where the politicians watched the subdued do battle. It was distasteful. To Wheeljack, fighting wasn't a spectator sport. If he spotted any of that, he didn't think he'd be able to bite his tongue and keep from being outright rude about it. So it was best to keep out of it.

     Which he did.

     With everyone reporting in and wanting to answer the lull of their adoring Commander, there was much more space for the Wrecker to freely move through. He'd set himself up a little workbench in the corner of the control room where he was busying himself with working on the grenade he had been carrying. Currently he was jamming the safety pin and so he could remove the detonation device.

[Javelin]

Javelin, likewise, had been avoiding the general gathering in one of the “basements” of Omega. At first it had sounded like it might be fun – and useful too. Javelin kept wanting to learn new ways of fighting, of defending herself. More than just sinking her arrows into someone’s head and running, but a real fight. Oh, she was pretty good at picking up anything and using it as a weapon – a rock, a steel pipe, hell, once a barstool.... but weapons you literally plucked up off the ground tended to be hard to actually fight well with, so something more stabby might be better.

By the time she had convinced herself to go, she had started down the hallway – hearing Red Alert was in there actually gave her a little more of a pick me up. It was odd, but she actually liked the mech. Obviously he was frustrating, irritating, and high-strung. And you ended up wanting to grab him by the shoulders and shake him and demand he stop worrying about everything (like that ever worked)...but his sense of humour was the type she liked. Sly, wicked, dry, and so sarcastic one had to check themselves over afterwards to make sure you hadn’t suffered third degree burns and were just numb.

But the growing number of voices brought her to a halt, and in the end, she decided against it. She wasn’t actively against other people. Javelin just....had a hard time, sometimes, remembering how to fit in. How to be...normal...among her own people. And sometimes it was hard to just stop thinking about...dark things. She knew she could be moody. She could go from smiles to darkness in the blink of an eye, and because of that, she tended to avoid large crowds unless she knew them all very well, and knew exactly where she stood with all of them.

And she hadn’t had time to really get to know any of them yet, besides Carbine.

So, she turned around, and quietly walked away from the voices coming from the room, and made her way back up topside.

There was probably something she could do to entertain herself. Maybe. If nothing else, there was always going to be something to clean...

Moving back out to the main Control Room, Javelin’s steps slowed as her gaze fell on an unknown individual standing in the corner.

As always, her caution shot up to 10. Her gaze flicked from the individual to where the Ground Bridge would be had he come through there. There was no Ground Bridge.

The fact that no alarms were screaming blue murder told her that though he may be unknown to her, this was no Decepticon, and she’d operate on that assumption unless she saw something to the contrary.

Javelin had never met nor seen Wheeljack. She knew of him by reputation, and knew he occasionally stayed at Omega, but she had no idea what he even looked look. All she knew was that this was someone new.

She was about to open her mouth to speak, when her gaze shifted, and fell onto the grenade he was holding in his hand.

Javelin spoke before she knew she was about to.

“You have a grenade!”

She didn’t sound upset or alarmed....if anything, she sounded excited.

[Deleted]

     Wheeljack assumed that everyone would have been with the Commander for his sight-seeing training session, which was why he chose to do this work at Omega base instead of on the Jackhammer over at the military facility. He wouldn't have been left alone there, needing to answer a million security question and be pestered left and right to why he had explosive materials on board. This was the perfect quiet time. Just him, his grenade, and not a Prime in sight.

     Which was why he was a little surprised to see a walking disaster of a traffic cone strolling past where he was. He gave a slight glance out of the corner of his optic to see if he would actually approach or keep on whatever path he had started on. Once he spotted him going down a different corridor he returned to his work and ignored the brief commotion of what he could only describe as the complaints of a child and what sounded like he'd been smacked by a giant metal flyswatter. Honestly, he was just happy to have dodged that bullet.

     There was no spark of curiosity, so he didn't check it out. Wheeljack just continued to work, twisting the cap of the grenade to loosen the hatch so he could pop the seal. This had to be done carefully as to avoid shaking the small rod out of the safety pin so that just in case his digit slipped and he pressed the center button that he wouldn't set it off and blow them all sky high. There was a small counterclockwise twist and a pop, indicating that the seal had been broken and the light on the grenade went off. Now that was safe to do so, he slowly- and ever so carefully- slid the detonator from the shell of explosive material. Now that the detonator was free from its dark casing, it lit up the items surrounding them with a faint iridescent hue. Wheeljack looked at it closely, trying to identify what was causing the hiccup...

     Then he heard the faint tap tap of someone else into the area. Would he be able to dodge a bullet again and be left to his work? He focused hard on what he was doing, not only out of necessity so that he didn't blow everything back to the Age of Wrath, but to hope they would assume he was too busy with this delicate work to be bothered.

     He could have done this with his optics closed and one servo tied behind his back. Still, though.

     Wheeljack may have not directly looking at Javelin, he was still observant enough to know that she was approaching without him needing to. Maybe in this case, he had perked her curiosity by looking too busy? Was that possible? Whatever it was, the Wrecker vented softly when he heard her yell out that he had a grenade. She didn't seem alarmed by it and the tone was definitely one he was able to identify as one he knew from when he saw something that peaked his interest. 

     "Yeah, I got a grenade. Kinda in the middle of working on it so hopefully you understand my not shaking your servo."

[Javelin]

Javelin remained where she was, watching. The individual working didn’t seem particularly concerned about her presence. That was good, because Javelin’s interest in what he was doing had skyrocketed the moment she had seen the explosive in his hand.

No alchemist, Javelin none the less had a fondness for explosions. There was something so enjoyable about a good, solid boom, one that you could feel right in her tank, where everything sorta vibrated with the percussion. That was, if the explosion wasn’t too near by. That made them less fun.

Her left leg gave a faint twinge in remembrance.

She made her way over to where he was set up, letting her peds make their usual hushed but not completely silent sound. Javelin had no intention of startling him in any manner, but she went on the assumption anyone working on a grenade in the main Control Room wasn’t too concerned about it exploding in his face. He must obviously be comfortable handling it, and wasn’t likely to drop it in surprise.

Javelin took a somewhat wide circle around to see what he was doing, not crowding him but not keeping far back either – giving him plenty of personal space.

When she spoke, her voice was warm and somewhat amused, “Working on a grenade in the Control Room. Gutsy. Then again, I like a mech with an explosive in his hand.”

She tilted her head slightly, quizzically, “What’s wrong with it, if you don’t mind me asking?”

[Deleted]

     "Careful what you wish for. The wrong mech holding an explosive could be your death sentence."

     For Wheeljack, there was no such thing as not enough personal space, but there was a such thing as personal space invasion- even if someone was several hundred yards away. If he could see them, they were invading his zone, and Javelin was certainly well within that immediate danger zone. Or at least the blast radius if the grenade in his servo decided to go off. Not that it would, and even if it did, it wouldn't cause much more damage than a firecracker in the servo, which would be more limited to injury to himself rather than a danger to anyone around him. Still, he had to respect the weapon that he held and not underestimate what it could do. After all, he was the one who had made it and he knew just how dangerous it could be.

     Plus, for the sake of not wanting to have to answer to Optimus to why he was fiddling with such a threat in the proximity of their very sensitive equipment and not have to listen to Ratchet fussing at him while caring for whatever injury may be sustained from it, he REALLY needed to cautious.

     "Nothing's really wrong with it. Works fine, does as it's supposed to- Just been less than satisfied with the last couple grenades. They haven't producing the same impact to their blast radius and they're taking a nanoklik longer than I like. Seeing if there's a way to either improve it or fix the issue." He could have been completely satisfied with it, but this was Wheeljack, and he was never satisfied with just average when it was his creation. These were his babies, and if they weren't being the best they could be, then he was not a happy parent. "Peace of cake. Won't even slip a bearing doing it."

     Wheeljack lifted the detonator above his helm so he could use the ceiling lights to stare through the vial he held to inspect the coils within it. Everything was definitely where it should be, though it seemed that the switch may be a little longer than he liked. If he shortened it that would cut the detonation time. Too short, and he would underestimate how long he had to get away from the kill zone. As he lowered it back to the table, his cyan optics flickered up and locked onto Javelin, considering her presence for a moment before returning them downward so he could make note of what he needed.

     "Shouldn't you be hobnobbing with the others?"

[Javelin]

Javelin’s interest remained on the grenade, watching as Wheeljack moved it about. She knew next to nothing about explosive....save how to keep her own arrows from exploding while she carried them, and how to prime them before using. Beyond that....nothing.

That didn’t mean she didn’t enjoy a good boom, though. She found it fascinating how such a small thing could produce a goodly sized explosion, and if used just right, how to increase the damage done.

She didn’t know how they worked, but Javelin was pretty good at making them blow up.

Her life had literally depended on it, in the past.

Her own optics flicked up to his face for a moment, as he spoke, seeming to scan his features before returning her gaze to the grenade. She didn’t know this mech at all, but someone that good with explosives was good to have around.

“Oh. Uh, well....I’m not really the....”hobnobbing type”. I mean, get me with a few friends, sure. Party with the rest of them. But I’m not a big social dragonfl...dragon?” She frowned for a moment, searching her database, “Butterfly. Not a big social butterfly, as the humans say.”

If Javelin had any idea she was intruding slightly on Wheeljack’s personal space, she showed no sign. She wasn’t crowding him out, but she wasn’t keeping her distance, either.

“So...how would you go about fixing a timing issue? Is there, like, a fuse in there and it’s burning too slow, or just a delay in a circuit, or what?”

Her eyes remained on the grenade. She seemed truly interested.

[Deleted]

     Wheeljack really wasn't one for small talk but the femme who decided to take it upon herself to invade his personal space seemed to be quite the opposite. In spite of saying she wasn't one to be a social-whatever-fly, she sure as hell was keeping up with the chattiness. At least she was asking about something he didn't mind discussing so, at least for the time being, he would entertain the notion.

     “It’s all about finding that happy medium between the ignition timing and the fuse.” He held the detonator up so she could see it clearly as he spun it around from one side to the other. "Can’t shorten it too much or it’ll become an impact grenade- too long, and it’ll give my target enough time to pick it up and hurl it back."

     He didn't know if she would understand anything of what he just said, but with how he just stared at the explosive in his servo it was clear he didn't really care either way. Even though he was talking to her, his focus was entirely on his work. Good thing he could do two things at once or else the base would be getting a renovation at the cost of a mere two Autobot lives and a sad loss of a wasted grenade. The grenade would surely be the largest loss out of that.

     “Explosives are a feat of ingenuity- simple in design and operation, but so easy to mess up at the same time. Even if you don’t make them, you should at least know how to conduct basic maintenance on them- especially if you haven’t used them in a while. Wouldn’t be smart to throw one that’s been sitting idle for months. Can’t trust that it won’t be a dud- or worse? Blow up in your face.”

     Small talk? Hardly. He looked at it more like an educational experience. 

[Javelin]

Javelin’s optics followed the grenade as Wheeljack moved it about. She seemed to be following what he was saying with interest that passed the normal “I’m not interested in what you’re talking about but I’ll pretend I am.”

After a second, she spoke, “I’ve always been interested in how you do that, actually. Explosive engineers. How do you know how long you want the fuse to be? I’m picturing someone attacking me, and hurling one of those at them...wouldn’t you want it to be an impact grenade? Or do you have different ones with different timers on them, so you know how long for each one to explode?”

Javelin took a step back, raising her right hand and lightly tapping her left side, right beneath her left arm, “My explosive arrows are impact. Not much sense in them being on a timer. I mean, they could, but there’s a good chance the person I hit would tear the arrow out before it blew, so not much sense.”

Lowering her arm again, she paused, helm tilted faintly to the side, a soft smile on her face, “You’re Wheeljack, aren’t you? The Wrecker. It’s an honour.”

[Deleted]

     Honor to meet him? Oh boy. A toady? He didn't really get that sort of air from her, but he'd deal with that later. For now, she was engaging him in much more conversation than he initially intended to deal with today. He considered just ignoring her or waving her off in hopes she would bugger off, but some part of him felt that she wouldn't listen to him telling her to 'shoo'. At least she was asking him about something he didn't mind talking about. Whether or not she was just making small talk or actually wanted to have some advanced education on explosives was beyond him. 

     It was just a simple fact that it took a special type to like things that went boom in the way grenades produced it. Sure, dinner and a show was nice and all to talk about, but he knew how 90% of bots were. They liked to keep things neat and orderly when it came to combat style. Go in and do what you need to with the least amount of casualties was usually the name of the game. The other 10% were either Wreckers or dead.

     "An explosive arrow is light years of a difference from a grenade," he began after a heavy, breathy vent. "That's something you want to go off on impact. If there's a delay it'll give whoever you're attacking a chance to remove it and get out of range of the death radius. Now." He set the detonator down on the bench then picked up the shell of the grenade and held it in the palm of his servo as he turned to face her. "The major reasoning behind the difference is simple. When you fire and arrow you have a straight trajectory in your line of sight. It's gonna go straight towards whatever you're shooting and hit whatever gets in the way- or whatever it lands on if you're a bad shot."

     "With a grenade, however," he paused and tossed it up, then turned his servo to the side and snatched it out of the air on its way back down. "You have an idea of where you wanna throw it, but you have a bit more freedom with it. If you're a good enough tosser, you can curve ball it around something. But a lot of times these will hit multiple surfaces as it drops, especially if you're tossing it blindly, such as a spot above your head or down into a crevice. An impact grenade can be really touchy once it's set off. Last thing ya wanna do is have it go off cause it hits the wall you're bouncing it off of and goes boom prematurely. Trust me, impact grenades are not as awesome as they're chalked up to be. They're just a quickie solution for someone who takes too long to eyeball their target. Having a set timer lets you throw and go with less chance of taking out one of your pals with friendly fire. If they keep standing in the way after you've alerted them that you've tossed it, then that's their stupid."

     Wheeljack casually tossed the grenade on the table and walked over to where some crates were and grabbed one up to bring it to where his work space was and set it down. Now that he had a makeshift chair, he could sit a little more comfortably and actually get optic level with the detonator without having to waste the use of one servo because it was holding it. He dug around in the box he had on the table beside him and removed a series of tools he needed to get into the device in front of him, laying them out in a chaotic organized fashion where he could reach for what he needed without having to go searching for it. With both servos at the ready, he could now more suitably get to work.

     "Don't try to adulate me, cause that will just twists my circuits in all the wrong ways," came his delayed response to her previous comment and he turned his upper frame slightly so he could look at her from the corner of his optics. "If you think that based off of the hogwash collection of my public combat files, you're in for a rude awakening Twinkle Toes. It's no great honor to meet or know me cause I'm one of the biggest pain in the afts you'll ever meet."

[Javelin]

She gave a half shrug as he spoke about the impact grenade, “That’s what I was saying. My arrows are impact. Not too difficult. Shoot, and boom. But how do you know how much time you’re gonna need on one of those? Or are they adjustable? I’m thinking, what....four...five seconds? But how much time before they can throw it back at you?”

His second comments about being a pain in the aft just made her laugh, “I didn’t say I adored you, Hot Shot, I said it was an honour to meet you. Adoration may come later. And I don’t read combat files, because they’re usually as dry as the soil outside the base. I’m going on what I’ve heard. The soldiers that got pushed back and watched as you guys went in. It’s not exactly top secret that The Wreckers are sent in when everything else has failed. You want it done nice and neat? You call the top soldiers. You want it done dirty but fast? You call The Wreckers. Just ‘cause I’m a fan of your work doesn’t necessarily mean I’m going to go all moon eyed over you.”

Javelin grinned at him, then turned her attention back to the grenade on the table, arms crossed, shifting her weight from one let to the other. She was clearly not going anywhere, and planned on watching him as he worked.

“I wanted to go into explosives when I joined up, but they had other ideas for me. Scouting. Guess they figured a Scout learning explosives was a waste of time, who knows? I had the frame of a Scout, so by Primus I better get out there and scout.”

She made a face.

Javelin made certain she never went any closer, didn’t want to crowd him, or Primus forbid, jostle the table, but she clearly watching every movement he made.

[Deleted]

     "Trial and error." It was a simple reply for a simple question. Wheeljack had been testing the timers on these grenades ever since he created first created them. There were always room for tweaks, and he was always working on bugs that came up now and then. For what they were and how he made them, they were basic and required that same level of care and maintenance. Adjustments could be done with little to no fuss and usually in a hurry- as long as he wasn't being distracted. 

     "Correction. Ya call in the top soldiers when there's a task that can be completed with as few casualties on your side as possible. We get called in when the impossible has to be done and you don't care how many don't come back. That's what the Wreckers are for. After we're done is when ya send in the clean up crew, and they get all the glory. Can't let anyone know you got a group of degenerates doing the real work. I suppose it works out, though. Wreckers don't have the pretty faces for the photos."

     His frame curled and there was an audible snarl of irritation when she mentioned her function category. It wasn't over what she was, but rather the subject of her being told what she was going to do. Wheeljack knew that all too well. "Welcome to the universe of Grand Cybertronian Taxonomy, where your alt mode determines what you're good for under the watchful eyes of the Fuctionalists." Wheeljack rolled his optics and put a sarcastic drawl in his tone as he spoke. He made a face that definitely showed he felt gross just saying those words.

     "Yeah, I'm there with ya. I got thrown into the high class with the other stiff struts who were supposed to shoulder Cybertron's three highest needs. Took in what I could from the best minds of Iacon, then got outta there the moment that opportunity rang. I'm not one to be told what I can and can't do. It's not my style. Neither is sitting around and letting the world pass me by." Wheeljack had hauled himself out of his social standing by his own accord and it was still something that made his frame tingle with a discomforting sensation like scraplets gnawing at his cranial chamber.

     "Nor am I blind when someone is pressing for a favor or have a specific question they're dying to ask." Wheeljack figured she wasn't here for the small talk, and he wasn't one to be buttered up. "I'm not exactly the one everyone seeks out for an idle 'how do you do chit-chat', not even Bulk." He thought about it for a moment before correction himself. "Uh... Miko maybe." After saying her name, that was certainly the only one who would and he added another correction. "Definitely Miko."

[Javelin]

She listened as he spoke, then gave a shrug, “I don’t really have a favour to ask you. Not unless you’re hiding some decent high grade around here somewhere. Don’t really have a question either, at least not right now. I’m sure something will come up as I watch you work, though.”

Yeah, she clearly wasn’t going anywhere.

“Unless of course you want to use me as target practice or something. Other than that, you’re currently the most interesting thing going on here right now, and I already mentioned I love explosives.”

Remaining standing, she thought back to his words about the way their people were put into roles the minute they came online. It had been a shock the first world she had travelled to, when she discovered that they were allowed to choose their own jobs or responsibilities.

Javelin wished she knew a human well enough to ask them some of the questions she had about them. She knew the children knew about them, but she didn’t know if she was actually allowed to go and talk to them one on one. If they had guardians, that meant they were important...right? Outside of them, the only other humans she really knew about were the military people, and she didn’t know if she was allowed to approach them, either.

She couldn’t help but smile at his last statement.

“I don’t know why,” she grinned, “So far you’ve been nothing but charming and hospitable.” She spoke in a gentle, teasing way, making it clear she was joking with him in a sarcastic manner, not actually complaining or bitching.

She went back to watching him in silence for a second, then spoke again.

“Actually, you know what? I do have a question. What are the odds you might consider, I dunno...training me in explosives or something? Learning how to make some booms of my own?”

[Deleted]

     "You're outta luck by a supereon. I gave up drinking high grade so long ago I don't even remember what it tasted like. Or maybe that was because of the burn in your throat as it went down." Wheeljack knew he was stuck when she just kept goin on. He couldn't tell if she was offering for him to use her as target practice or if that was a rhetorical statement but she didn't give him a chance to respond either way. He returned his focus on the detonator in his servo and casually tilted it from one side to the other to check on the liquid itself. Maybe he'd put too much in and that weighed down the device that caused the delay? He'd have to further inspect it.

     He tuned out the rest of what she was saying so much that he didn't even noticed that she hadn't said much after saying that she loved explosives other than the joke about his personality, which fell on deaf ears. When he finally put the detonator down and became aware that she was still within his bubble, his audials picked up the last bit of her final words.

     '... how to make some booms of my own?'

     Okay, there was definitely a question there, and he could only piece together that she must have been asking if he would either make her some 'booms' or teach her to make some.

     There was an exhale as he turned around with his arms crossed, now sitting on the edge of the table where he had set up shop. He didn't put his weight on it since that would cause everything to tilt over and make a bit of havoc for the base, but he was at least comfortable enough to ease some of the tension in his frame. That is, if one could call his hair trigger 'eased'.

     "What do you know of explosives?"

[Javelin]

She studied him closely, his mannerisms, the way he moved, the way he talked. It wasn’t anything personal, it was just how she had been trained and how she survived trying to blend into alien civilizations. Learn body language. That wasn’t to say she had perfectly nailed down his ways within seconds – everyone took a long time to get a slight grasp on. But it was her way.

At first, when he asked her about the explosives, she had been going to give a funny, flippant reply, but for some reason, it died in her throat. It wasn’t that she was worried about irritating Wheeljack – the mech was apparently easy to irritate at the best of times – existing was enough for him in some cases. It was more that she simply, suddenly, lost the desire to joke, to be funny. What she had asked him? To her it was serious, and deserved to be spoken in a serious manner.

She gave a faint, one-shoulder shrug, “The same as everyone else, really. Not trained, I mean. I know you don’t play around with them, you respect them. They can do a lot of damage to an enemy and friend alike. I know there are different types, and each has a different aspect to it. Some will go off through heat, others through impact or vibration. I know it’s a perfect science – it’s not what you feel or your opinion, it either works or doesn’t.

I also know that if you do teach me, it’s not going to make me an expert in any way, shape or form, that it takes a long time of study to really understand how it works.”

She paused for a minute, then spoke again, “I’m looking for ways to defend myself, Wheeljack. I’m not a fighter, so every advantage I can get, I take.”

A faint smile, “But I won’t lie and pretend a nice explosion isn’t a thing of beauty in it’s own way.”

[Deleted]

     "So you know less than the basics. Fantastic."

     Wheeljack pinched the grove between his optics and let out a long breath that rumbled in the back of his throat, then arms crossed  again as he tilted his helm up and rolled his optics. Staring at the ceiling briefly, he thought over the options that were given to him.

     1. No. This would have been the easiest to say, but most likely the hardest to execute. Considering that in spite of his 'spark warming' demeanor, she still hung around, entranced by the lull of the prospect of getting her servos on some of the best explosives this distance from Cybertron had to offer. Even if he told her to get lost in the most straight forward way, he didn't think she'd back off.

     2. Yes. Like the first option just with a switched situation. This one was the hardest to say, but the easiest to execute. He hung up teaching things a long time ago with the reasoning that worked the same way as explosives did- you knew it, or you didn't. There was no half-assed in between. Explosives came as second nature. He could Macgyver things that one wouldn't even imagine could be turned into an incendiary device. Teaching her these things wouldn't be hard- it came down to how well she paid attention and how quick she could take stuff in. Now saying 'yes' was the problem.

     An animalistic sound of discontent rumbled from deep within his chassis as he tilted his helm down and closed his optics. This was a choice between a rock and a hard place and either way, he lost. No answer was the right one, and as much as he wanted to tell her to get lost and just let her continue on the way she had been that kept her alive, if she tried to dabble in things she didn't understand then there would be some part of him that would be responsible.

     "Fine. But there are some ground rules. For one, I'm not a teacher. I tell you once, and that's it. I'm not holding your servo through it. Two, if there's something you don't understand or can't grasp, tell me and we'll strike it from your lessons and we move on. I won't try to beat it into your processor if it's not clicking. That's how you get killed. You pretend to know something then forget that they're supposed to actually throw the lob once the pin has been pulled. If you decide afterwards to figure it out and fail, that's not on me. So don't come crying to me if you blow your servos off."

     He stared at her from under the rim of his optic ridge, cyan hues narrowed slightly. "And to make things clear... I'm not your friend, we're just on the same side, so if I can teach you something that'll help ya crack some Decepticons wide open that's good for us. Surviving this is up to you."