It's Like Flowers (but with more fingers)

[Wreckage]

Wreckage loosely nods his agreement with Skystrike's evaluation of the chemists with a tilt of his head, preferring not to verbally commit without knowing them better. Too, much of his attention is inward, monitoring his reactions to the confection as his fuel systems attempt to process it. The aluminium seems unlikely to pass and the gallium sits heavily in his tanks, but the oil runs fairly well – high-quality stuff.

"They enjoy many liberties," he murmurs. Decepticon scientists – chemists, medics, engineers – seem to get away with the most unusual abuses of the troops. "You would dislike one of my kind – Scalpel, if I remember his name. A medic." She seems to stare at him particularly for some reason. He might as well say something.

[Skystrike/Skylar Stringers]

Quietly staring at your date was part of dating, right? Slaggit, how did people do this?

“They are scientists,” Skystrike shrugs, although there is a mild undertone of ancient dislike in her voice. Yes. Medic. The seeker distinctly recalls a few of her previous encounters with them. She spends the next moment popping the candy into her mouth and trying not to.

… Peculiarness aside, the taste wasn’t disagreeable. Although like Wreckage, she does find herself wondering if her systems could handle the exotics.

“Their research helps to further the cause, I suppose,” although their research seemed more like cruel play at times. The blue seeker’s lips twitch, both at the texture of the aluminium and the taste of her own words. Glancing back up at Wreckage, she tries to delicately change the subject with a quiet, “How is the candy?”

She’s really about as delicate as a brick.

[Wreckage]

"Not inedible," Wreckage answers promptly and stiffly, expecting that discussing the food is the more appropriate choice given their ostensible reason for being here. Accordingly, his mind seems to go blank without some prior experience on which to draw. "The oil is better than I expected. I will have to put in for a flush to remove the aluminium." It is a mechanical response even for a living machine, but in truth, he made no effort to dwell on the treat itself – only what it did to him. With an almost penitent air, he tries another.

The moment he bites down, his face goes blank. He had not noticed the light sweetness of the oil on first blush – crisp in a way, flavourful without being cloying. Nor had he noticed the spiciness of the gallium. He peers expectantly at Skystrike with his mouth still full, wondering if she finds it as appealing.

[Skystrike/Skylar Stringers]

Sucking the residual oil off of her thumb and forefinger with a pleased hum, Skystrike idly watches Wreckage as he takes another, shrugging, “The problem with eating off-world.” They didn’t have the same knowledge Cybertronians had of how their race’s systems worked. Which isn’t to say they couldn’t taste good; between the drink and the candy, this place seemed to be a pretty decent spot for an outing.

And then Wreckage gets a truly rather odd look on his face. The seeker pauses in the middle of taking another sip. Slowly lowering the cup, she gives the stryker an inquisitive look. Was he alright?

[Wreckage]

Wreckage, finding Skystrike watching him with an air of curiosity about her, gestures inelegantly to the dainties in the bowl while he swallows his mouthful – except for the wafer shell, which remains caught between what passes for his teeth. He frowns, pries it loose, then turns back to Skystrike.

Words promptly fail him when the thought chances errant into his mental queue: her blue paint takes on an extraordinarily deep tone in this lighting now that he looks at it.

"…Better than I realised," is all he manages.

[Skystrike/Skylar Stringers]

Skystrike watches in mild amusement as Wreckage pulls the piece of aluminum out of his mouth. Should probably order something with a bit less of that if they were ever to swing by this place again, meager as the chances were. This was the nicest place she’d been here and it wasn’t even on the planet itself.

“Good selection of ingredients,” she agrees. And then shifts awkwardly under Wreckage’s gaze, feeling suddenly self-conscious. While she had been admiring the pale glow of the stryker’s armor, she’s now suddenly aware her own state of appearance was... not exactly polished. There was still traces of oil from her little fight for the arm earlier and scorch marks from the fight on Pz-Zazz. Not quite the appearance one should have on a nice date.

[Wreckage]

Proudly wearing the marks of battle – those that have no impact on function – is high fashion of a kind among some of Wreckage's number. He finds it appealing, certainly; the play of light across her plating and the spatters that tell the tale of her combat draw his eye. He can almost picture how she might have struck, then pulled back, by the spread of the droplets and the way they smeared. It occurs to him that he has yet to actually see her in mêlée.

He wants to now. Badly.

"Why this place?" he asks to distract himself, viciously crushing that urge.

[Skystrike/Skylar Stringers]

Born a seeker and raised by seekers. Marred paintwork on herself still had negative connotations even as Skystrike has come to a point where daily maintenance was done practically and for practicality. Caught between Wreckage’s question and the sudden awareness of her appearance as it is, the flier subconsciously tries to cover the discolorations amidst struggling for words.

“It was... suitable.” Asking the Stryker for some of his time had been a impulse of the moment; her plan had merely been to apologize and leave, all of which had been promptly deviated from. But... Skystrike remembers the blue glow from her previous visit here, shortly after having flown by the one of the place’s windows.

It hadn’t occurred to her then that the lighting would make Wreckage virtually glow in such a way, or that she would even be taking him here in the first place. It fit now, however, the image of the front-liner in the calm lighting. It fit very well. She idly wonders how beautiful he would be in the light of a dying city?

The seeker idly realizes she’d been staring again and quickly glances out the window, struggling with how to adequately word her thoughts. Instead she glances back at him after a moment and then at his yet untouched glass and quietly tilts her helm in curious askance.

[Wreckage]

Wreckage is completely unaware of any glow he might be giving off due to the lighting and to Skystrike's musings about how he might look standing amid flaming ruins. He is acutely aware of her gaze, however, and the way it slides from him to his drink. He, too, looks at it, then lifts one shoulder in a faint shrug.

"Getting there," is all he offers in explanation.

[Skystrike/Skylar Stringers]

“Ah,” Skystrike rumbles in response, resting her chin atop her fingers. She wouldn’t mind if Wreckage didn’t drink; the subject matter was brought up to draw attention away from her staring- which she has no doubt she had been doing. Now that it was there though, does hope it didn’t come off as being too expectant.

Realizing her wings were drawn back in anxiousness, the seeker calmly relaxes them flat against her back once more. “I don’t think I’ve ever been on such a peaceful date before,” she admits after a moment.

OOC: Wrap in a bit?

[Wreckage]

The long stretch of silence gives Wreckage ample opportunity to reach an accord with his sensors and the confections, so that he can move on to the drink. It is barely halfway to his mouth when Skystrike speaks up again; he pauses, blinking at her over the rim of his glass. Bemusement tilts his brow ridges; a hint of humour pulls one side of his mouth upward a few degrees.

"…You have been on other dates?" he wonders idly.

---

OOC: I'm good with a wrap/fade.

[Skystrike/Skylar Stringers]

“I, well. Yes.” None of them were in nice, quiet little bars though. And there weren’t any snacks either. All in all this place was something else entirely compared to her previous experiences.

“You?” Skystrike asks quietly after a moment and then quickly adds, “if you don’t mind me asking, I mean.”


OOC: Okay then!