Armada-'verse. Cyberton. Wishes in the night.

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Nightwish blinks as she comes back online, and then quirks a slight grin as she realizes that she's laying on the floor in her quarters, in her favorite place partially underneath her berth. -I made it home. Bonus.-

Then she lifts her head to looks at the tiny being sheltered in the curve of her body, one long finger tracing gently along his helm as she remembers how many times she'd had to rescue him from walking over the edge of the bar the night before. "Hey, 'Clash are you awake yet?"

Comments

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-No.- Thoughtfulness swims up out of the haze. -I think I'm jacked up beyond reason... and something tells me if I weren't it wouldn't be pretty.-

[backupbots.livejournal.com]

He can agree with that, and there's the thought that some things can't be handled sober.

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Agreement! And then she pauses as she brushes against another sensor and gets a glimpse at the outside world. -Hey... what's the doc doing? Is that the trank thing?-

[backupbots.livejournal.com]

He focuses. ...Yes. It is.

A second later, Makeshift straightens and regards his patients. That seems to have done the job. They'll stay offline until he's finished his work. He's guaranteed that now.

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((*inordinantlyamused*))

[in-the-cracks.livejournal.com]

((The others were mentioning how evil-doctory Makeshift was looking today...))

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((XD))