The Coward Heart

[Fleetwind]

"I..." Fleetwind considers the effort it would take to explain what he meant to Duskwing. He considers whether it would be worth it. "Never mind," he finally says. "You're right. She's on the ship, and she makes 'cool stuff.' If you'd like to return this 'cool stuff' to her, or let her know it's here, you're welcome to do so," he suggests helpfuly.

He nods towards Blast Off. "She. She's a female Transformer. More or less."

[Duskwing]

Duskwing shrugs; his reality and Screwdriver's are probably much closer than Fleetwind's and Screwdriver's. "Yeah, I'll tell her if I see her. Or Mistwind. Kid mighta left 'em lying around, but he's usually careful wit' his stuff. Knows not to leave things around where someone might con-confi--uh, take 'em."

Duskwing actually knows no such thing for sure, but the kid's smarter than he is, and Duskwing knows that people will steal his slag if he leaves it out and about, so the kid has to know that, right?

He stares at Blast Off for a moment. Typical 'ossifer', ignoring Duskwing like he's so much dirt on the deckplates. Duskwing resumes ignoring the shuttle-former in return.

[Blast Off]

"Oh, I see," Blast Off replies to Fleetwind. "I am not practised in identifying ladies. I am afraid my own reality only had one of my species."

The ones not of his species? They... kicked his butt once. He's not going to talk about it.

"I appreciate the clarification and shall keep it in mind for future address." Then Blast Off sags a little, holds up one finger, and inquires quietly, "Ah. Actually. What gender are you, for that matter?"

Blast Off would assume 'male', but it would be terribly embarrassing to call Fleetwind a man if the Seeker would prefer to be considered a lady.

Duskwing ignored Blast Off first, but it's just as well.

[Fleetwind]

"Good idea," Fleetwind tells Duskwing when the other says he'll tell Screwdriver and/or Mistwind. That makes the problem officially 'taken care of,' meaning that Fleetwind won't have to touch anything made by Screwdriver. He'll just walk around the things.

Fleetwind's optics flicker in surprise at Blast Off's question, then he shrugs. "I'm male," he answers. Some might be offended at such a question, but Fleetwind is not easily offended in general.

He doesn't appear to notice Duskwing and Blast Off's ignore-off. He might just be ignoring it.

[Duskwing]

Duskwing shrugs. It's not his problem, anyway. "Yeah. An' I know dat. You're not a dame like Skystrike."

How Duskwing ever figured that out is a mystery, possibly tied into the mystery of why his defective dictionary includes every crude slang word for "female" in every language ever known to Cybertronians.

"Anyway, see ya 'round." Still ignoring Blast Off, he continues on his way.

----
Out of thread unless engaged in conversation.

[Blast Off]

Duskwing wins, because Blast Off fails to ignore him. He calls out, hesitantly, "Perhaps you ought to return the... items to Miss Screwdriver or Mistwind? As you seem to be on... friendly terms with them? They might take it poorly if Fleetwind or I were to return them, perhaps thinking it an extortion attempt or some other sordid scheme."

See? Totally legit reason why Duskwing ought to remove the... stuff and why Blast Off shouldn't touch it.

"And then, of course, your... 'friends' will see that you are trustworthy and conscientious."

[Fleetwind]

Fleetwind brightens. That was actually pretty clever on Blast Off's part. He gives a slight smirk and a faint nod of approval to Blast Off's plan, but when it comes right down to it, he considers the problem 'suffiently taken care of' that he doesn't have to touch the blocks.

(Knowing that Screwdriver made them is all the encouragement he needs to stay away from them, anyway.)

[Duskwing]

Duskwing's head slews around with a whirr of servos and gears, and he stares suspiciously at Blast Off. The officer just spoke to him, and it sounds like he's trying to get Duskwing to do work.

"Why? They hurtin' somethin' bein' dere? I said I'd tell them about it!" the dark blue Seeker grumbles.

He scowls and looks down at the blocks, and scowls some more. "'Course, some glitch-ridden rust scale like Sluggy might swipe 'em just for grins," Duskwing mutters. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, not yet decided.

[Wreckage]

OOC: In and out of thread with this unless interacted with or stopped.

---

Speaking of work, Wreckage is busy with his own. Corridor detail is dull drudgery, nothing he would voluntarily choose to do; but it is his assignment, and he will complete it with the same thorough exactitude he gives to the maintenance of his weapons.

Even if it requires absurd equipment like the outlandish, to-scale push broom preceding him on his path. He comes upon the odd tableau surrounding the… toys? He peers at the blocks, then at the fliers standing about and avoiding them. The shift in his expression from attentive boredom to muted disdain is a subtle one, a rearrangement of the thin spars around his optics, a faint upward tilt of his mouth at one side only. Then, without a word said, he shoves his broom along and sweeps away the little pile of intimidation. Once he reaches one of the periodically-placed disposal chutes, that will be the end of that.

[Blast Off]

Blast Off is about to try to wheedle Duskwing into removing the blocks when... Wreckage does just that. The spacer stares wordlessly at the figure of blades in motion, more alien than it is familiar.

Then he says coldly, "Well. Wreckage could come by and sweep up the blocks, Duskwing, That is certainly plausible."

Blast Off tries to duck around Fleetwind, to resume his patrol. He wants to be far, far away from any furball that may result over the ownership of the blocks.

---

OOC: Out of thread unless stopped.

[Fleetwind]

Fleetwind, for his part, observes how the blocks are being jostled. He doesn't stop Blast Off from moving around him, but he does decide he wants to be elsewhere in case the blocks explode, release a deadly gas, send out reality altering waves that turn them all into toys, or whatever else something made by Screwdriver is liable to do. He inclines his head towards Blast Off and Duskwing. "Good day, Blast Off. Duskwing." Then, he walks briskly in the direction opposite of Wreckage to pick a route towards his relatively safe room (as he was not on patrol himself, but had just come off a watch).

OOC: Out of thread unless stopped.

[Duskwing]

Duskwing just stares blankly as Wreckage trundles by and.. sweeps up the blocks. His head turns to follow Wreckage, and a puzzled frown forms on his face.

"Hey!" Duskwing says about the time Wreckage clears the next intersection way down the hall. "Dose were.. uh.. dose were.. well, slag."

He shrugs--not his problem anymore--and continues on his way.

---
ditto out-of-thread.