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Post by Sentinel Prime on Jan 29, 2011 22:59:31 GMT -5
Day 27 - SmickDonald's, open
There's a broad-shoulders robot in a sailor fuku, mostly white, trimmed in cerulean at the collar and pleated skirt, with a lemony yellow bow at the collar and a tiny blue heart pin at the collar, a big blue bow at the back, and white gloves and boots with that cerulean trim.
This is clearly not Sentinel Prime, because the mind completely rebels at such a mental image, and he'd never be caught dead in such an outfit.
Sentinel Prime would especially never carefully apply metallic blue paint to his lips. That would just be inconceivable.
The robot has bought a Grande Mechiatto and is slurping at it while poking through some reading material. Typical student, perhaps! Surely not a surreptitious Autobot lookout checking out Club Con.
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Post by Mirage on Jan 31, 2011 21:16:17 GMT -5
There is no one sitting across from Sentinel Prime, no one at all. That same no one has spent the better part of the last while staring at Sentinel Prime and seriously considering doing a systems restore later from the previous day's data just to wipe this image from his memory.
He checks his chronometer and looks out the windo. Prowl and Wheelie should be getting in position. A few more moments, and Mirage will leave to do his part. He only hopes the others have done theirs.
//Sentinel, where on Cybertron did you manage to find that thing you are wearing?//
OOC: Mirage is cloaked.
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Post by Sentinel Prime on Jan 31, 2011 21:29:53 GMT -5
//I didn't find it on Cybertron,// Sentinel Prime replies mildly, paging down on his reading material. Frakking AllSpark, but the Consu are terrifying! That kinetic energy disruption field sounds like a sick, sick mod. He wonders if anyone ever had anything like it during the Great War. The Autobots would have loved it - it stops lasers and bullets out of the air, if tuned properly, but allows slower projectiles like flamethrowers and arrows to still fly.
He supposes he doesn't have to be catty with Mirage, so he adds graciously, //The sim room generated the design for me, and then I had one of the fabbers make it up. I was playing a video game with Override and the Twins.//
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Post by Mirage on Feb 3, 2011 0:38:22 GMT -5
//I see.//
Mirage shifts in his seat- not that Sentinel can see the movement. He should be heading out soon. Perhaps in a couple of rounds.
//You do realize that is an outfit for a female, yes?//
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Post by Sentinel Prime on Feb 3, 2011 11:04:51 GMT -5
//A princess outfit,// Sentinel Prime corrects smugly, as if royalty status justifies crossdressing.
He leaves it there for a moment and then adds, //But yeah, I wouldn't be caught dead in this, so it's the perfect disguise. Or people will think I'm a zombie. Whatever.//
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Post by Mirage on Feb 7, 2011 0:05:20 GMT -5
Mirage snickers.
//So you're a pretty pretty princess? I never would have pegged you for such a fetish.//
Mirage slides silently out of the booth and stretches.
Time to get in position.
//Gone.//
Out of thread
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Post by Sentinel Prime on Feb 7, 2011 11:16:02 GMT -5
//Must you always take everything in the most perverse fashion possible?// Sentinel Prime protests over the radio. //Sometimes, a disguise is just a disguise!//
Now he wonders what fetishes Mirage would have pegged him for, because an up-and-coming young leader like Sentinel Prime can't have fetishes. He must project a completely wholesome, vanilla image to the populace, though it needs to be a rugged, studly vanilla image. Extra-durable vanilla that will keep the populace safe and satisfied.
Oh AllSpark, Sentinel Prime's just going to go back to reading about the Consu and try to forget all this.
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Post by Elita-1 on Mar 9, 2011 19:12:57 GMT -5
Some time after Mirage departs, Elita-1 slides into the booth across from Sentinel. She is no longer disguised as Laverna, nor is she falling through the furniture. She is, however, a nice shade of purple, and is wearing a damn fine leather coat which covers her sigil.
She smirks at Princess!Sentinel and drawls, "Hiya pretty thing. Miss me?"
Elita can't help it. Sentinel looks so silly.
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Post by Sentinel Prime on Mar 10, 2011 12:35:24 GMT -5
Elita-1 is just jealous she didn't think of dressing up as a princess first, Sentinel Prime is sure!
The purple bothers him, even more than the coat, which is strange, but when he tries to put a finger on why, the reasons slip away through his fingers. So he just greets Elita-1 with a slight smirk and looks her over, trying to see if there's any damage, though the coat makes that difficult.
Tripping over the words a bit - this is difficult, not least of all because he's honestly more concerned about the mission than he is about her, and some part of him knows he has his priorities wrong and can't do anything about it - he replies, "Oh, always and forever. Fuel?"
Sentinel Prime nudges over a fifth cup, one he hasn't touched yet.
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Post by Elita-1 on Mar 10, 2011 18:28:15 GMT -5
There are no damage for Sentinel to see. Elita came out of the mission rather well, all told.
"Sure," she says, picking up the cup and taking a sip. She makes a face, "Meh. That's terrible. Entirely too bitter. And you've had how many?" Elita glances at the empty cups and shudders.
//So, for my part, it went well enough. I'm a bit worried about Jazz, though. Scourge marched him out of the club before I caused my distraction.//
//Not a bad dancer- Scourge that is. And... I think he might be dating... her, or at least they're close enough for him to be able to spy our similarities even when I was very much not myself.//
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Post by Sentinel Prime on Mar 10, 2011 22:51:44 GMT -5
Sentinel Prime laughs when Elita-1 says the drink is terrible and reaches for it. Of course it is terrible! It is a man's drink. Silly girl. He is half-way through a swig when her news has him sputtering it out.
Stiffly, he stands, stalks off, and returns with some napkins. He diligently cleans up his mess, quite wishing he was possessed of some processor bleach. Thusly cleansed and calmed, he takes another swig to steady himself and finally replies, //You know. I was going to say that it's a shame Optimus isn't here. Really. I was. It would be like old times and all, a regular Operation: Broken Lance.//
//But seriously, woman, you would hurt his little head with all... that... intel.//
Urgh. Did someone slap bumper sticker on him saying, 'Please have my dead ex-girlfriend tell me about her evil future self dating my ex-friend's alternate dimension evil bootleg son and also have my dead ex-girlfriend dance up close and personal with said ex-friend's alternate dimension evil bootleg son'? Because that is a frakking stupid bumper sticker, and Sentinel Prime feels unclean just listening to Elita-1.
He answers her earlier question, "Now many? Not enough." He chugs the rest.
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Post by Elita-1 on Mar 11, 2011 17:48:27 GMT -5
"Well, I'm going to order something else," she says as she peruses a menu for a few moments. Elita pushes a small button the call box built into the booth and says, "One Trenta Salty Caramel Hot Cocoaoil. Oh, and can you add a benzene shot to that, please?"
//Oh really Sentinel, it's a good thing to know! If they really are involved in some way, she has to be using him.// It's what Elita would do anyway, //And from what I understand of Scourge, he wouldn't deal well having that pointed out.//
//And if by some odd chance he cares for her, then poof instant hold over him.// Elita shrugs. //Really, it isn't that big a deal.//
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Post by Sentinel Prime on Mar 11, 2011 18:49:36 GMT -5
"Are you still drinking those?" Sentinel Prime teases and then kicks himself - of course she would be. She never grew up like he did. She's still a cadet. That's why she's not a horrible spider.
He rubs his temples and stares at her, one part horrified, mostly intrigued that she's so unashamedly manipulative, and one part horrified that he's not more horrified; horrified that he's intrigued. Sentinel Prime feels like she ought to be passing him this information in a discreet brown paper wrapper, so casually does she speak of screwing over her future self.
Sentinel Prime coughs, //Yeah so...// and is distracted by wondering if Elita-1 was just using him and Optimus.
He tries again, //Yeah so...// by the thought of someone trying to use him or Optimus against her or her against them.
By the thought that he's not sure he'd even care if someone did.
//...yeah, maybe talk to Emirate Xaaron about that. Think he's the bot for the job. Or someone in Intel.//
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Post by Elita-1 on Mar 11, 2011 20:09:41 GMT -5
Elita-1 meets Sentinel's stare with a blank look. "What?" She really doesn't see the problem.
She nods at Sentinel's suggestion, //I can. But this is your mission Sentinel Prime. I figured you want to add that into your final report for the big bosses.// There's a teasing note to her voice.
"Oh, thank you!" she says with a smile as a barrista brings her drink. The lady also brings Sentinel another Machiatto, and clears away the empty cups.
//I hope Jazz is all right.//
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Post by Sentinel Prime on Mar 11, 2011 21:35:31 GMT -5
Machoatto, thanks.
Sentinel Prime waves his hand dismissively at Elita-1, who is still going on about this... stuff. He gulps his new drink grimly and nods in thanks to the barrista for bringing it. Like a drowning man who has been dumped into a pool noodle factory, he seizes the topic shift for dear life, boasting, //I'm sure Jazz will be fine! He's not like my Jazz,// with a distinctly possessive note, //but I'm almost as glad to have him around.//
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