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

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

((cup! lol))

"Welcome," says Ironhide absently, his optics unfocused as he watches the femmes, and then he gets to his feet and goes to meet them, trusting that the others won't cause any energon disasters while he's gone. He's still got his Chromia in one hand.

((Gack! That'll always catch me out...))

Cliffjumper trudges in the door first, her usual pensive air overlaid with weariness. She looks up and beeps a greeting as she spots the Autobot. Ironhide follows, looking more alert, partly because she's scanning the street behind them before she closes the door.

"All's well?" she asks, turning and catching sight of her alt. He looks fine - at least, no worse than usual, which is good.

((XD))

Ironhide goes to one knee to offer both small femmes his hand to climb onto, a hint of concern coming into his blank optics. "Stormcloud probably wouldn't say so, but I think the others would."

Ironhide springs aboard without hesitation; Cliffjumper blinks at her before following suit. "Glad to hear it," Ironhide murmurs, leaning against his armour.

Cliffjumper makes a staticky noise like a faked cough. "Uh, Stormcloud's all right... right?"

Ironhide brings them near to his chest as he stands and offers his sister a sip from his cube, which is still flashing and rumbling to itself.

"Oceanglide's not worried," he says indifferently, turning toward the table.

Cliffjumper nods, relaxing somewhat. It's been a long day's talking - and she really hates being the one to do all the talking.

Ironhide whistles gratefully but shakes her head. "I'll leave that one to you," she says, sounding in relatively good humour... though she steals an anxious glance at the other Minicons as her brother brings them in. At least the Sea Team are too drunk to notice the arrivals, except for Oceanglide....

With traces of the courtesy he'd learned back when he was fresh online he sets the little femmes down by the table and then pushes the two empty cups and the cube of mid-grade soother toward them.

And then he spoils the effect by releasing an air bubble and a few sparks from his fuel lines.

Oceanglide raises his optic ridges at their mode of entrance, but chooses not to comment.

"Thank you." Cliffjumper chuckles as she fills the cups and passes one to the smaller Ironhide, who accepts it quietly, skirting Armorhide without looking at him and moving back towards her alt. She's a little more concerned by those sparks...

Armorhide waits for Cliffjumper to down some of her drink before he starts quizzing her. "So how do we stand?"

Ironhide settles back in his place, reaching out with his free hand to tap Nightscream's big cube and add to the song that it's already making. Then he burps again and looks down at his sister. With his team all here, a favorite drink in his hand and a heap of energon on the table in front of him, he finds himself relaxing a little.

Cliffjumper sighs. "We have all the permissions we need, finally. I could have used your help, you know."

"What have I missed?" Oceanglide enquires, lowering his cube.

"A lot of methane-fuelled idiots," Armorhide grumbles, taking another sip of the bitter red while Cliffjumper starts to fill Oceanglide in on the day's proceedings.

Ironhide gives a soft snort, looking up at him. "You need more work on your shell." She glances down as she retrives a fuel siphon for her drink.

"Maybe," he rumbles, then takes another slurp of his angry drink. "But I'm not feeling it right now. How's your soother?"

Ironhide drinks, visor dimming as she does. "It's just what I needed." She moves closer so she can lean against him, watching the room. She's done a lot of standing around today: it's good to take the weight off her feet.

"Thank you." It's murmured low and soft, and it might be for more than the drink.

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

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