He's not happy, Bob. NOT. HAPPY.
Aug. 7th, 2008 @ 07:17 pm
"I'd be after tellin' 'er t' stuff it up 'er tailpipe." Hormah gives him a cheeky grin from where she's standing a safe distance away holding the hand of a purple and grey Seeker who's missing his wings, and who is looking at Random fearfully.
As he notices her, he sits up and watches her warily. His more alert position warrants that he's prepared to fight or flee if necessary. His mouth opens and closes a few times as he struggles to decide to just remark to her statement or just spit out what he wants to demand of her. A deep breath relaxes his shoulders again.
"I'm an Autobot, you're a 'Con," he begins to tell Hormah calmly, but then he becomes frantic and flails his arms, "SO WHY THE HECK DID YOU HELP ME?!?!?!?"
((Sorry, Bob. (I was wondering
if you're gonna bring 'im in.) ))
She winces and quickly puts her arms around the Seeker as he cries out and nearly bolts, her grin fading into the reproving stare of a creator despite her youth. "I's also a servant 'o Primus, ye lugnut. I does what he tells me."
The Seeker, for his part, is shaking badly and hiding his face as he clings to the little femme.((couldn't resist. lol))Edited at 2008-08-08 06:45 pm (UTC)
told you, a Decepticon, to help an Autobot avoid a 'Con set on killing him, so he could return to the 'Con base to help another, dying
Autobot escape. I
see how it is," he says cynically. "Did 'he' even tell you why
we were there?"
((Sorry. Forget to add something.))
"He was after buildin' t' 'Cons too." Her yellow optics continue their stern stare. "Why t' slag shouldn' 'e be talkin' t' 'em, if they listens? 'N no, I wasn' after askin'."((is k))
"It doesn't make sense for him to send a 'Con to help an Autobot when he's suppose to know that a lot of 'Bots know not to trust 'Cons at face value."
She shrugs the shoulder that's not supporting the terrified Seeker. "I was t'ere."
"You were there." No, he's still not believing her.
She rolls her optics and deedlebeeps in a very uncomplimentary tone, then adds, "What's t' slaggin' difference, eh? Ye gotcher help."
Then she turns her attention to the Seeker. "Shhh, Bob. Yer safe, b'y."
is I could've been killed by a Decepticon while
avoiding being killed by another
At that last comment, Random looks a bit confused. 'Bob?' Did she just say 'Bob?' Since when
did 'bots have human names?
"Ye ain't after lookin' dead t' me! Unless t'at smell I was thinkin' was t' trash is really you?" she shoots back at him, still soothing the purple and grey mech.
"No, but it's the principle that's bothering me."
And because it's killing him. "Why's his name 'Bob?'
"'Cause 'at's what I calls 'im." She murmurs to the Seeker in Cybertronian, then shakes her head. "Look, way back 'Cons wasn' made fer killin' 'Bots. They was after bein' t' security models; t' soldiers. T'ere's some I knows as is after reachin' fer t'eir roots."
It's still a weird name.
"Key word: wasn't, and most who do revert become Autobots."
"At least their intentions are more clear."
She just gives him a look, unimpressed with what she sees as narrow mindedness. "If it's hurtin' yer precious Autobotness 'bout gittin' yer spark saved by somebody as doesn't wear yer slaggin' brand I's mor'n happy t' kick yer slaggin' aft anytime I hasn't got Bob wit' me."
'Narrow-mindedness' combined with what he thinks
is an annoyance at how his 'former employer' pushed his way back into the Lumina's life, which during this one time in the Nexus alone he's tried to push toward Arcee, Hormah, and himself, but is probably just an annoyance at how his life's gone on in general. Because if the Autobots--the mechs who are suppose to the good guys--aren't being as good as they're suppose to be, and if Decepticons--the bad guys--aren't as bad as they've been portrayed, then what's the slagging point? "Not a fighter,"
he mutters, slumping back into the couch.
Her expression softens despite herself, and she deedles softly in her strange language, causing Bob to stop hiding and turn to look at the Autobot with wary curiosity.
And the fact that he's not a fighter is partially the reason his friend nearly died that day. However, instead of making him depressed, the fact seems to fuel his annoyance as he notices Bob's look and raises an optic ridge as if demanding, "Yes?"
"Don't be takin' it out on him, b'y." The annoyance has faded from Hormah's voice. "He's less a fighter'n ye. 'N brand new, too."
He shoots his attention to her before rolling his optics and pointedly glaring off in some direction. "That would explain why he's so panicky." His voice has an edge to it.
//No. 'At's a glitch 'is creator built. Right 'afore 'e blew 'im up,// she coms, then says out loud. "If yer not after wantin' me t' answer yer question I should be gittin' Bob back t' Primus' servant."
//. . . Was it a Seeker?//
"I though you already answered it," he says, confused, "and I think telling him to stick it up his tailpipe would give him more
of a reason to hate me."
"I was bein' a smart aft." She snorts. "I's t'inkin' it'd make anybody hate ye."
"Not me," says Bob softly. "I'd just be scared."
"Yeah. I knows, b'y." Hormah rubs his back, carefully avoiding the scars where his wings had been.