randomplaces | Nexus. Blue's Bar. A Meeting of Opposites

It was another late night for Random, another recharge-less night. It was on these nights that he got off his berth and walked down to the Engineering Labs to work on some unfinished project leftover from the day--or at least that's what he told whichever mech found him recharging in the lab one of those times when he was unable to make it back to his quarters.

As usual he had managed to pass through the quiet halls without being approached by the nightshift. ~~If Red Alert heard that, he'd freak.~~ However, when he opened the door to the lab and walked in, he found himself in a place that he didn't recognize as either Wheeljack's lab or the Ark.

At first he wondered if he'd missed a memo, like one saying "Wheeljack's working on something in his lab, ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK," and searched over his memory banks to find such of a memo as he glanced around the bar to prevent extra thinking. When he doesn't immediately find a memo, his 'oh great, just what I needed' attitude began to fade to outright panic. Before it spread too far, however, something in his mind made a connection between "bar"--which this place obviously was--and "Nexus."

Hmm. Maybe . . . ? He began to take his processors off of finding the memo and to set them to the task of thoroughly searching the bar for anyone he's seen before in the Nexus . . .

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"Ah. So it's typical Nexus slag." She stretches, then absently spins one of her new tires. ~~Yes, she's wearing a new alt mode.~~ "Well, Blue's always harping at me to get a life and make new friends, so she can't glitch if one comes to visit."

"Yep." He takes another drink.

Hmm, something's different here . . . ~~Yeah, he must have the rather masculine "selective seeing." Give him a couple more minutes.~~

He grins a bit as he takes a look at his drink. "I'm not exactly either of those things, but yeah, don't think she can send back this order."

As he looks back at her, it dawns. "Hey. You got new wheels! Sweet! What do you transform into now?"

She snorts. "Don't knock yourself, kid. You're a friend."

Then her mouth quirks up on one corner. "2003 Porsche Boxster two door convertible."

His grin stays on his face and gestures with his index finger for emphasis. "Ah, but she said *new* friends, so I'm not what the doctor ordered."

"Porsche, nice," he says with approval. "Should be pretty sweet. Well, as long as they haven't taken a major nosedive in eight years. It's only '95 where I'm from."

Another snort at his first words as she rifles through the small stack of car magazines that were tucked under her seat, and then she lays the article about her alt open in front of him. The car in the picture is red, and it's also as disgustingly cute as only a little red convertible can be.

Has he noticed yet how lived in this booth looks?

"Not bad. Not bad at all." Of course being female she'd take a cute model. "Heh. Looks like Porsche still uses H6s."

He'd noticed that since at least when she had removed the offending ink-stained paper and was clued in when she mentioned Blue telling her to get a life, but he decided not to say anything.

"By the way, when was the last time you got out?" Until now. And like he's one to talk.

"Mmmhmmm. I'm not sure how well it handles yet." Her face drops slightly and her optics drop to the table top, her voice going a bit gruff as she replies to the question. "I just asked a question by the sign a few days ago, when I picked the new alt."

It wound up not being a fun trip.

"Hmm. Explains the distinct lack of chains." Yes, that was a poke at how lived-in this corner looks.

Her change in attitude, whether or not he noticed it, doesn't get commented on. ~~Yet.~~

"Huh?" He gets a quizzical, grumpy Arcee frown.

He slides one finger across the top of the table and wipes it off with his thumb. "The amount of dust on the surfaces of this both is practically the same amount as the amount of dust on your chassis." Or in other words. "Doesn't look like you get out much."

She looks away again, this time pulling the magazine back to scowl at the Boxster pictures. "Don't have a lot of places to go. Or a lot of need to go anywhere. My work comes to me. But I won a race the other day. I'd show you the trophy, but I've no slagging idea what I did with it."

Edited 2008-11-12 23:57 (UTC)

He smiles again. "Well, at least you are getting out occasionally and not spending all your time in here . . . but I see why Blue's been lecturing you."

The trophy part sounds suspicious of either old age or the mole thing, but he's not going to go into either of those depressing topics right now.

Nexus. Blue's Bar. A Meeting of Opposites

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