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Post by Clipper on Apr 29, 2010 12:30:17 GMT -5
Clipper will never admit to anyone just how eagerly she had been awaiting exactly this kind of summons. She can handle her pistol just fine, but she's not a fighter. She can speed along the roadways with all of her friends and hold her own, but she's no racer.
She's an administrative assistant, and coffee runs and collecting materials is exactly the kind of work she is used to performing. Of course, Governor Raikaru had her doing a bit fewer coffee runs and she'd be running paperwork and collecting administrative flotsam, rather than tables and games, but everyone has to start somewhere, yes? Besides, there's a lot less involved in running a ship of mostly adults than a planet full of children.
So it isn't long at all before there is a scuff at the door to the medical unit before it swooshes open and admits... a neatly balanced pile of stuff with pink legs.
Of course, Ultra Magnus can't see it from his quarantine room, but Xaaron should have a good view of said be-legged neat stack striding across the floor toward the corridor he is in. She'd briefly considered fetching a cart to carry everything, not because of the weight, but just the sheer awkwardness of scale. After all, Xaaron's idea of a "small table" is significantly different than her own, but she'd deduced that he'd want one big enough to hold his game. It's all just a matter of scale, but stacking the game on the cubes and then putting it all on the table and using that as nothing more than a very large tray had worked quite admirably. Plus, it had just been quicker than trying to find a cart to use, and it gave her space to... add a thing or two.
"Here you are, Emirate Xaaron," she chirps cheerfully from behind the stack as she joins him down the corridor. "I took the liberty, sir, of adding a few snacks for you both, as well. I've never played it myself, but Perceptor said that a game of Full Stasis can be quite lengthy." And there is, indeed, a container of treats there beside the much smaller cube that Xaaron had instructed her to choose for herself.
"Would you like me to find you a chair, sir?" she asks as she kneels to carefully set her burden upon the floor, finally revealing herself in entirety to Xaaron and Magnus. "I saw one in the medical bay that I could bring down for you?"
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Ultra Magnus
Major
Disappointing Fellow Autobots Since the Age of Internment
Posts: 565
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Post by Ultra Magnus on Apr 29, 2010 12:47:44 GMT -5
Ultra Magnus is at a loss for conversation; small talk was never his forte.
"I know the rules," he affirms, shutting off his optics for a moment in a prolonged blink as he dredges up the files. The simulation peeps a prompt at him from its standby slot; he ignores it much the way he tries to brush off that last rejoinder of Xaaron's. He's too tired for the outrage. "I've read up on the game as much as I was able, but as I mentioned, I've never actually played it." Emirate Xaaron has the dubious fortune of being Magnus's first when the former commander can't even get up. "So I may not be much of a challenge," he adds, and there is a vagueness to his tone, as if there's a second meaning to his words.
The awkward stiffness becomes discomfort – even a strange sensation of queasiness – when Clipper arrives and Magnus tries not to look directly at her while not looking away from her, either. There are not one, but two Micromasters here? And this one is female – something that will baffle him later, when he has time to actually ponder that fact. Her good cheer only makes her presence more painful because all Magnus can think of is how she'll be broken by the war.
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Post by Emirate Xaaron on Apr 29, 2010 15:59:01 GMT -5
There might not be much paperwork to be had - Rodimus Prime is second in command, and it doesn't seem like he would like it much.
Emirate Xaaron turns and smiles at Clipper when she arrives. He hesitates for a moment - should he help her with that load? He doesn't want to offend her, and she seems to have managed it well enough so far. So he settles on, "Clipper, you have outdone yourself! Even snacks?"
He turns to Ultra Magnus and gestures at Clipper, introducing, "Ultra Magnus, this is Clipper. She's an administrative assistant." Then, he turns to Clipper, crouches a little, and gestures back at Ultra Magnus. "Clipper, this is Ultra Magnus. He's a soldier. He just escaped from captivity," how gallant he makes it sound! "So you must forgive him for being a bit tired. We have him in isolation to make sure that the Decepticons haven't done anything to him that might endanger the rest of us. Perhaps this will help perk him up a bit."
He plucks up the container of the light, refreshing energon and pushes it into the little slot next to the cell. There is a hiss as the slot seals and then opens on the other side. Then, Emirate Xaaron does move to help her set up the folding table, however, in front of the quarantine cell, so he can keep an optic on Ultra Magnus using his peripheral vision, which shows him that Ultra Magnus, ever stiff-looking, has switched to distinct discomfort upon Clipper's arrival.
Weird. Does he have some kind of bad history with Micromasters, or is this a more wide-reaching phobia of short people? Would he react that badly to Makeshift? To Airrazor? Alas, simply asking all the short people in the crew to show up here would be rather contrived, even moreso than Clipper fetching the table, game, and refreshments.
Emirate Xaaron glosses, "I was just planning on standing, but I suppose that if Ultra Magnus is sitting, perhaps I should sit as well, hmm?" All good cheer, he turns back around to look at Ultra Magnus, and he mock-chides, "And now, are you trying to lull me into a false sense of security?"
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Post by Clipper on Apr 29, 2010 18:25:40 GMT -5
"Oh, than you very much, sir," she replies with a pleased smile. She tries very hard to anticipate things before they're needed. That's what a good assistant does.
"Oh my!" she exclaims, peering up and through the barrier to where Magnus is resting on the medical berth. "That sounds very frightening, being held prisoner. There's nothing at all to forgive, of course. I can't imagine that they would have been very... gentle," she adds, her attention switching back and forth between Xaaron and Magnus as she speaks. If it wasn't before, it should by now be quite obvious that this innocent little creature is really nothing at all like the Micromasters that Magnus would have once known.
"Not a problem, sir. I'll fetch that cair in a moment. Is there anything else that he can have that I can bring you?" she asks as she helps Xaaron finish setting up the table, placing the container of snacks and Xaaron's cube on one edge to leave room for the game. "And, umm... would it be all right if I stayed to watch?" she asks bashfully. "I'd like to try and learn how to play."
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Ultra Magnus
Major
Disappointing Fellow Autobots Since the Age of Internment
Posts: 565
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Post by Ultra Magnus on May 2, 2010 9:13:23 GMT -5
Between the introduction and the awed gushing, Ultra Magnus finds himself in the painfully awkward position of feeling he owes Clipper the courtesy of conversation – at the very least – but feeling far too uncomfortable with her presence and mien to say anything to her. Finally, he settles for a pensive, wordless sound as he leans over to take the cube offered him. His balance nearly goes out in the stretch and he has to pause, bracing himself with his hand against the wall for a moment, before he can retrieve his drink.
It isn't terribly filling, his drink, but that makes sense to him. He certainly feels better for a few judicious sips, and he buries his ill-at-ease grimace at Clipper's request to stay in his cube.
"It's usually a sound tactical move," Magnus says to his unexpected guest, taking refuge in something less disquieting than wondering why Xaaron has two Micromaster assistants, "and though you have no reason to believe I'm being honest, I am when I say that I have never played." And he is somewhat regretful of that; he never saw Sentinel Prime with a game board, but he heard a few times when he was still just another face in the ranks that the Prime was fond of it.
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Post by Emirate Xaaron on May 2, 2010 20:57:07 GMT -5
Emirate Xaaron quirks an optical ridge over Clipper espousing a desire to learn how to play. He's a crippled old man, and Ultra Magnus is a tired, laconic soldier. They're not exactly Super Mario Brothers 9000, here. Still, if she wants to learn to play, Emirate Xaaron supposes he owes it, if not to her, to Micromaster-kind in general. Primus knows he's done enough damage to them.
Though her request makes Ultra Magnus grimace. Hrm.
Emirate Xaaron replies, setting up the game board, "I see no reason why not, Clipper, as long as you keep your radio on in case anyone else needs you." Maybe Botanica does paperwork. Maybe. Or is paperwork against her code of ethics? He looks up briefly, "Any objections, Ultra Magnus?" Leaving Ultra Magnus an out is only polite.
His board looks to be made out of scrap sheet metal, and the pieces seem to have been carved by someone who put a lot of effort into it but simply wasn't very good at carving. It doesn't look like it's ever been used before. Once the board is set, he suggests, "If you don't want me to touch your pieces, perhaps Clipper can move them for you, if she stands on a chair or something?"
Emirate Xaaron takes a sip of his drink.
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Post by Clipper on May 5, 2010 19:36:13 GMT -5
If Clipper wanted Super Mario Brothers, she'd call Holi and go to the rec room with the big game center there. Video games aren't everything, though! And this Full Stasis thing seems like a game of tactics and strategy, something which she could always stand to learn something of, if she's going to make herself more useful here!
"Oh, thank you, Emirate Xaaron! I will, I promise!" she replies, and then, provided that Magnus doesn't have any objections, she scampers - gracefully! - off to the main medical bay to fetch a pair of chairs.
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Ultra Magnus
Major
Disappointing Fellow Autobots Since the Age of Internment
Posts: 565
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Post by Ultra Magnus on May 9, 2010 9:44:48 GMT -5
Ultra Magnus has many objections, the most petty among them that she's going to distract him. But that distraction is really none of her fault and Magnus can't lay the blame on her when it belongs squarely on his shoulders. The least she can ask of him is to watch him fumble through this game and when Xaaron asks him, he quietly shakes his head. Even when Clipper leaves, he doesn't really relax.
"I've no problem if you move the pieces," he says stiffly. The last thing he wants is a Micromaster serving him.
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Post by Emirate Xaaron on May 9, 2010 18:55:29 GMT -5
While Clipper is gone, Emirate Xaaron looks at Ultra Magnus for a silent moment, weighing the options, and he finally replies, "I'm going to have to comment on the drop-ship in the room, you know. Do you just have a... phobia of short people?" He spreads his hands and shoots an imploring look at Ultra Magnus. "I'm not trying to make things difficult on you, and I assure you that I'm not mocking you. I just noticed that you seemed... uneasy around Holi, and Clipper seems to be making you distinctly uncomfortable."
He takes a few steps closer. "If she really bothers you, I can ask Rodimus Prime to devise a sudden critical duty for her and make up the game lesson to her later."
Emirate Xaaron steps back and takes another sip of his drink.
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Ultra Magnus
Major
Disappointing Fellow Autobots Since the Age of Internment
Posts: 565
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Post by Ultra Magnus on May 11, 2010 14:13:10 GMT -5
OOC: Skipping Clipper with player permission.
For a moment, the only response Emirate Xaaron receives is a slow blink and an uncomfortable shift of weight as Ultra Magnus tries to sort out how he should answer. Honesty would be best even if it paints him in an even worse light than already shines on him. He should be used to this by now. What can Xaaron do right now? Take away the game? Oh, Magnus will be inconsolable.
"It isn't," he starts, then stops and shakes his head slightly. "Micromasters," he tries again, "are – I've wronged them. Horribly. These two don't… they don't seem to know. And–" And he has no idea how to act around them. "He looks so much like Stakeout," is what Magnus says instead as if the resemblance pains him.
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Post by Emirate Xaaron on May 15, 2010 10:14:22 GMT -5
OOC: Also skipping Clipper with permission.
Emirate Xaaron's expression is inscrutable as Ultra Magnus explain that little detail without saying much of anything at all. Cagey, he notes, "You didn't mention that in your debriefing."
He lets that sit for a moment. What else has Ultra Magnus not mentioned?
Emirate Xaaron shrugs, holds up on of his hands, closes it loosely, and looks at his fingers. "Holi isn't much like the Stakeout that I know. Holi has manners. And Clipper is... nothing like Hyperdrive." He smirks.
Very casually, Emirate Xaaron asks, "So what did you do them? Put bombs in their heads and tell them to suicide if captured? Then send in another squad to finish them off when the first squad was captured and refused to suicide?" He could be asking Ultra Magnus if he remembered to inflate his tyres to full pressure, so indifferently does he ask it.
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Post by Clipper on May 18, 2010 19:28:03 GMT -5
And with that little bombshell dropped, it's time for a certain Micromaster to make a patented Inconveniently Timed Entrance(tm)!
Fortunately, Clipper is shoving two chairs in front of her, and the scrape of their legs against the decking drowns out the uncomfortable questions and revelations going on down the little hallway from certain Micromaster audio receptors. She arrives with the chairs non the wiser, and with a disconcertingly chipper smile.
"Back! Here you are, Emirate Xaaron, sir," she offers, pausing with one chair beside him, before shoving the other chair over to the side - and incidentally closer to Ultra Magnus - before climbing up onto it. Her feet dangle, no where near touching the floor as she settles in quite eagerly to watch.
ooc: skippable unless addressed!
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Ultra Magnus
Major
Disappointing Fellow Autobots Since the Age of Internment
Posts: 565
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Post by Ultra Magnus on May 20, 2010 12:44:03 GMT -5
Clipper is definitely nothing like Hyperdrive. Which makes it that much more strange.
"I–" Magnus begins to explain that at least expecting them to suicide if captured still treats them like something valuable enough to keep out of enemy hands. He can't bring himself to say that – or detail how he commissioned his own Micromasters and then grabbed them up and packed them off like nothing more than weaponry that wasn't even worth enough to keep away from the Decepticons – not in front of Clipper. "…I don't know the protocol for who goes first," is what he says. He deliberately doesn't look at Clipper.
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Post by Emirate Xaaron on May 20, 2010 18:28:46 GMT -5
Emirate Xaaron wants to facepalm when Clipper arrives, but he restrains himself. Argh, Ultra Magnus was going to say something! He smiles vaguely at Clipper, and he explains, "Really, depends on the regional variant that you're playing, but if you don't mind, I'm just going to say that white has the first move."
He just so happens to have set up the board such that white is on Ultra Magnus's side and black is on Emirate Xaaron's side.
Emirate Xaaron nods absently and murmurs, "Thank you, Clipper. You have been invaluable." He sits himself down in the offered chair, upright and dignified.
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Ultra Magnus
Major
Disappointing Fellow Autobots Since the Age of Internment
Posts: 565
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Post by Ultra Magnus on May 23, 2010 23:30:50 GMT -5
Magnus nods, very slightly, as he takes in the board and tries to recall the rules as he learned them. It was a mind-numbingly long time ago; he can't even recall the names of the pieces. While he thinks on that, he wonders how to continue the aborted conversation – or if he should. Well, he should, he amends, looking to one piece on the board, then another. He questions whether or not he can, and not simply because he doesn't know Emirate Xaaron's frequency so they can carry on privately. Here he is, slouching against a wall and bedridden, plagued by uncertainty, while Xaaron sits there, proud even under his own burdens.
The field is open. He has no idea what move to make against an unknown opponent; he has always been the one reacting, defending. This new position is uncomfortable.
"…Epsilon file," he finally says, sounding far more sure than he feels, "second rank, forward to third rank."
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