[ti]Ep 3[/ti]Unstable [Carbine, Patch]
Mar 18, 2021 14:55:30 GMT -5
Post by Patch on Mar 18, 2021 14:55:30 GMT -5
“Ehh, frag that man. You’ve been stuck with this long enough.”
Easy words. Low tone. Re-adoption of an old form of speech the femme could only hope the mech would recognize as “not attempting to personally attack him” as some more... fancy aft bright-plates tended to jump to.
Honestly… It was the only way she figured he would listen.
The ‘butch’ version of no no no PLEASE, are you kidding?! It’s my pleasure.
“It would NOT be your fault either, you put up a hell of a fight to keep me outta this.”
A half snide, half-smile over her shoulder again. Young optics half-lidded and snarkily quiet. She was messing with him, and quite pleased about it, it seemed.
“Did more than your part.”
After the small jab, the young femme allowed her helm to drop forward and roll side to side where her neck met the front of her chest guard. Waking herself up, stretching out as she continued to carry the tray at her waist. A long, indulgent cycle of air, that extended into the end of the next-
“HaaaaI’m just whining.” The back of her helm loosely shook a little. “It really ain’t so bad. I can get more shit done now, with the rank.”
Sure, said shit may have been happening… Different, in Ratchet's hands, (quite arguably better and with MUCH more efficiency) but at least it was still happening under Patch’s command… Even if… Not all at once. Like a wavering bicycle without training wheels for the first time, trying to continue the straight, clean path of a long time professional.
At the very least she was moving forward. That was all the femme could really hope for at this point, she figured.
Easy words. Low tone. Re-adoption of an old form of speech the femme could only hope the mech would recognize as “not attempting to personally attack him” as some more... fancy aft bright-plates tended to jump to.
Honestly… It was the only way she figured he would listen.
The ‘butch’ version of no no no PLEASE, are you kidding?! It’s my pleasure.
“It would NOT be your fault either, you put up a hell of a fight to keep me outta this.”
A half snide, half-smile over her shoulder again. Young optics half-lidded and snarkily quiet. She was messing with him, and quite pleased about it, it seemed.
“Did more than your part.”
After the small jab, the young femme allowed her helm to drop forward and roll side to side where her neck met the front of her chest guard. Waking herself up, stretching out as she continued to carry the tray at her waist. A long, indulgent cycle of air, that extended into the end of the next-
“HaaaaI’m just whining.” The back of her helm loosely shook a little. “It really ain’t so bad. I can get more shit done now, with the rank.”
Sure, said shit may have been happening… Different, in Ratchet's hands, (quite arguably better and with MUCH more efficiency) but at least it was still happening under Patch’s command… Even if… Not all at once. Like a wavering bicycle without training wheels for the first time, trying to continue the straight, clean path of a long time professional.
At the very least she was moving forward. That was all the femme could really hope for at this point, she figured.