Armada 'verse. Team headquarters in Cyber City. Morale building exercise

[random_xtras]

Ironhide appears in the room where he and his sister have been taking their recharge since they arrived here, and looks around carefully to make sure that he's reached the right place this time. He'd intended a quick trip to the Nexus, just to see if he couldn't catch some word of Bumblebee. But instead he'd wound up in another, smaller nexus lined with lockers and littered with human clothing. One of the rooms of this place had been stacked to the ceiling with energon.

There was blue energon there. There was green.

Ironhide's arms are full, and he walks carefully as he goes to the empty common room and arranges his armload neatly on the table before vanishing and reappearing with more. This also arranged to his liking, he grabs a cube of the green and walks out the front door to trade for the last thing that every perfect drinking party needs. It takes a little while to find a mech who has what he wants, but if he still had emotions Ironhide would be very pleased as he returns to the laden table with packets of various-coloured minerals in one hand. He hasn't had this much energon additives since before he'd first left his native Cybertron. And the person he'd traded them from seemed to think they were paint pigments!

Rumbling, he settles down and mixes careful doses of several different powders into a cube of blue, then sips appreciatively as he waits for some of his new teammates to show up.

Comments

[sole-captain.livejournal.com]

He makes a note of that unexpected detail. "As a hobby?"

[random_xtras]

"I don't remember the hobbies anymore." Ironhide shrugs.

[sole-captain.livejournal.com]

Not that surprising, when you think about it. Too much happening in between. Even the Minicons have that issue. He nods, looking glum. "That's always the way, isn't it?"

So now they're both asking not-a-questions, although in the Minicon's case that's because it's meant as commiseration. Congratulations, Ironhide, you've spread it.

[random_xtras]

"Surviving can drive many things from your processor." He gently sets Ironhide's drink aside and pings Nightscream to see where he is. "And the Joe Convoy who once knew the beauty of Tyger Pax died long ago. Better to let his memories rest with him."

[sole-captain.livejournal.com]

There's a sad quirk to Armorhide's mouth as he nods again. He's a student of history. He thinks he has an idea how much has been laid to rest, by this mech and others.

He happens to be dead wrong, but there's no way for him to know that.

//I've found a vendor, all right,// Nightscream reports. //Gimme a few cycles to haggle here and I'll be back.//

[random_xtras]

//Good.// He starts mixing himself another cube of Chromia, Armorhide's questions having called the original strongly to mind.

//Your drink is ready,// he tells his sister.

"What about you?" Let's give Armorhide something safer to talk about.

[sole-captain.livejournal.com]

"Hrm?" Armorhide snaps back from whatever train of thought he was on and tries to recall where they were previously.

//Good,// she replies, trying to sound cheerful and not really hitting the mark. //We're getting close to home.//