I Guess That's Why They Call It the Blues

[Bluestreak]

Takes place on Day 14.

Down a side tunnel, Bluestreak has slipped off on the pretense of doing a security check. Sure, he'll ensure this tunnel's clear of threats, but in reality he also wants to be alone in his thoughts for awhile. So when Kup overlooked him for putting together his own team, he drove off another way before anyone could notice. Someone might reprimand him for this later, but for now he doesn't really care.

This tunnel terminates in a T-intersection, branching off in two different directions. He transforms and looks one way, then the other. When nothing interesting greets his inspection he sighs and sits down, back to the wall of the tunnel, and rests his arms on his knees.

He's tired -- not just exhausted from the battle and evacuation, but weary down to the struts. Will this war never end? Not even coming to another planet has brought an end to it -- they only brought the fighting with them. For once he wants to be able to call someplace home and not worry about it being destroyed. His home city, Autobase here on Gillinan, Autobot City back on Earth... granted, he wasn't there for that last one, but to know that it was moments away from devastating attack when he was pulled and that there's nothing he can do to stop it when... if he ever gets back...

He gusts out a weary intake and stares blankly ahead at nothing, lost in thought.

OOC: Any Autobots at the refugee site are free to come along and bother Bluestreak.

[Rattrap]

Rattrap isn't a medic. He doesn't need to blast out any tunnels; they're all pre-fab. He's been doing a lot of very little since the evacuation, mostly just nosing about and replenishing his bomb supply. Basic work, busy work, necessary work. He's felt about as naked as Grimlock without his usual armament.

Rattrap is many things. Comfortable with feeling like his gearbox is hanging out isn't one of them. Big surprise, huh?

Now, with his explosives supply back to sane levels, he's taken it upon himself as second-in-command of CommInt to go slinking about up top. For one, it's what spy-types like him do. For two, he has a vicious case of the munchies. One more relatively small, furry thing in the woods doesn't draw half the attention big robots – or little robots – do. So he's on his way out and going up to leave instead of down. There's a novelty.

Ditto on the mopey Bluestreak up ahead. Isn't the chatterbox usually all grins and mouth running a mile a cycle? Rattrap stops to watch for a few nano-kliks, whiskers twitching. All Bluestreak needs is a bright yellow paint job with black spots.

"'Ey," says the spy, waving one forepaw in a loose greeting before he starts walking again. He has stubby legs; there's plenty of time for Bluestreak to pipe up before Rattrap can scurry away.

[Bluestreak]

"Huh?" Bluestreak perks up at the new voice and glances around, trying to identify the speaker. He doesn't see anyone right off the bat... until Rattrap starts moving again. "Oh, hey Rattrap. Didn't see you there at first. How you doing?"

[Rattrap]

If people aren't noticing Rattrap, he's doing something right. Of course, Bluestreak's distracted. Not much challenge there.

"I'm doin'," he says with a shrug as he stops and rears up on his hind legs. Plenty of things to do and to be done… most of them not by Rattrap. But he's a big rodent; he can keep himself occupied. Go snooping, stuff his face, and maybe while he's at it talk to the Boss Bug about getting this gaggle of a division operating a little more smoothly. As, well, a team. Better information network, something in case a clusterfrag of the proportions that lost them the base happens again.

Chased out. By stinking 'Cons. And they dropped the ball.

"…Why the long face?" he drawls, lip curling.

[Bluestreak]

"Just... thinking," he replies, shrugging his doorwings. He's a bit reluctant to go on -- as much as he likes to talk sometimes, he doesn't complain much. And he knows a lot of these mechs have lost a lot more than he has in the war -- he may have lost his city, but Jazz and Bumblebee and Skyblast lost their whole planet! -- so he feels almost guilty for being so bothered by this whole mess.

But Rattrap seems genuinely concerned, at least to Bluestreak. And not answering him would be rude.

"I never really liked fighting," he says. "I mean, I support the Autobot cause and everything, don't get me wrong... I'd never desert or anything... but I guess it's just getting to me." He sighs. "My city was destroyed in the war. I lost everything. And losing the base here... I guess that brings it back in a way."

[Rattrap]

"…Oh." Awkward. "Uh…." Think fast, Rattrap. Stop scratching the back of your neck. "It was just a building," he finally says, rearing up on his hind feet and shrugging. "We can set up some place else. Heck, we practically got that down already." He points one skinny pink finger at the Datsun, brows furrowed. "If yer gonna get bothered over something, get bothered 'cause we lost it to a bunch of them." Priorities are important, after all. "Leave the gripin' to experts."

He has to be the worst candidate for giving a pep talk, but he keeps blundering into stuff like this. Must be that Rattrap charm.

[Bluestreak]

Just a building? But to Bluestreak, it was home. Maybe something temporary until they could get everyone back to their home realities, but still someplace secure and stable. Perhaps he was a fool to allow himself to get comfortable here, knowing that what he had could get taken away again at any moment... but too late for that now. He can only deal with it and move on, he supposes.

"Never met a 'Con I didn't dislike," he replies. "Decepticon, Predacon, whatever." He rubs his cheek with one hand, over the recently repaired spot on his jaw where Injector stabbed him. "This is the second time I've lost something to them now -- third if you count Autobot City, even though I got pulled from there right before it was attacked. I guess you're right -- guess I should stop moping about it and do something useful instead. Because just moping isn't going to stop the 'Cons from doing it again."

He tries to smile at Rattrap now. "What are you up to? Need any help?"

[Rattrap]

Rattrap flashes a buck-toothed, mean smirk at Bluestreak.

"Never met one ya didn't dislike, huh?" he echoes, rubbing his chin. Sharing a sentiment with Rattrap isn't always a rousing endorsement from anyone but the rat himself. "Yer a car after my own spark, kid. Ain't a thing about 'em to like anyway. They're all scum." Clearly not the same sort of scum as Rattrap. Who's managed to almost get a smile out of Bluestreak. Score one for the rodent. "Me? Ehh… I'm just gonna go raid the fridge. Which is a lot easier without help, thanks anyway." He drops back down to all fours and flicks his tail.

Besides, his table manners suck.

[Bluestreak]

Well, Rattraps' an Autobot, it's perfectly fine in Bluestreak's mind to share a sentiment with him. (Well... okay, Maximal. But it's the same thing, almost, right?)

"Oh. Well... don't let me hold you up, then. I'll find something useful to do down here, then. I mean, there's always something useful to do, I'm sure. See you, and take care of yourself."

[Rattrap]

Taking care of himself is one of Rattrap's biggest preoccupations. He always manages it flawlessly. …Okay, he usually manages it flawlessly. Mostly. He's had a lapse in judgement here or there before, but he's always recovered. He promised himself every time he'd never do it again, too.

Yeah, change of topic.

"Dat's the plan," he declares smoothly, turning to pad off up the next tunnel. "Try not ta shoot me on my way back in."

---

OOC: Outta here.