Everytime the Stars Come Out

[Farlane/Faye Fairlane]

OOC: Month 7, week 2, day 5. Semi-private thread.

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For some reason, being randomly plopped into a squishy flesh form had stopped being surprising a while back. You had a few exciting adventures when your bed partners of choice were sometimes mad scientists. He’d always (fortunately) gotten his body back after those drunken nights though and there was always a perpetrator to blame it on and pester until said mad science was reversed.

There was no perpetrator this time so far though. He’d just blipped into existence as a human being with no where or why, his last memory of being a Cybertronian was him being the middle of mopping up the mess hall on the Event Horizon.

His housemates had been quite surprised after Faye had come running, yelping out of his room after waking up- but he knew everybody there for some reason. And he had a job. Well, jobs. It was all very weird and he felt vaguely like he'd been repurposed as a prefabbed piece of a giant 3D puzzle.

Yeah, definitely could have been worse, but still very weird. He contemplates the... utter mundane normality of the past few weeks of his new life, walking down the street with the sun disappearing behind the buildings off to one side. He was wearing a bright pink leather jacket and plain blue jeans, a bag of candy and soda bottles swinging on his arm as he makes his way down the street homewards.

[Rattrap]

The old evening jog has taken Randy outside his usual circle – and that's a good thing, because he won't always be on familiar ground, so he needs to try new routes – and everything's looking to be as boring as ever when he catches a flash of brilliant pink on a cross-street from the corner of his eye. Now, the odds of coincidence are high, he reminds himself even as he backtracks. The odds of there being some other complication are very high, he reminds himself as he stops to look more closely.

But that shade of pink with that sashay? It's worth a shot. He changes course and sprints a bit to catch up. If he's right, Farlane probably won't mind the attention. If he's wrong, some random stranger thinks he's a greasy-looking creeper. Nothing new.

"'Ey," he greets, flashing a slightly bucktoothed grin.

[Farlane/Faye Fairlane]

The sound of a jogger coming up behind him makes him automatically step out of the way as he unbags one of the soda cans, cracking it open.

Then a very familiar voice makes him spill half the can onto the streets.

“Jesus Christ, Ra-!” Okay, so he shouldn’t be shouting that name out loud. He swallows it instead, fingers dripping with sticky soda as he stares at the... dude who doesn’t look anything like Rattrap. Well, those buck teeth were preeeeetty familiar, but he seemed to have lost that ‘brain outside of head’ and ‘made of metal’ look.

“Jesus Christ,” he reiterates. “Scared the crap out of me there, honey.”

[Rattrap]

Honey? Come on, nobody calls Randy honey. And he isn't deaf; he caught that little slip. It's a good thing that one sound isn't necessarily a giveaway with him, isn't it? He passes, then stops and turns to face the pink-haired man. If this is Farlane, Randy has to admit he's sort of surprised. He knows Farlane just looked really womanly, but it's unexpected all the same.

"Heard that more 'n a few times," he says with a shrug. "Thought you were somebody else fer a second, but, eh… yer missin' a few too many curves." He helpfully pantomimes a voluptuous shape with both hands.

[Farlane/Faye Fairlane]

Well, Faye just did and Randy will be called honey many more times before the evening was done if he had his way.

“Oh please, baby, I still got curves,” Faye scoffs before flashing a flirty smile at Randy. “You jus’ need a closer look.”

“... You got a tissue anywhere on you?” he asks after a moment, holding his soda can at arm’s length to make sure nothing drips onto his clothes.

[Rattrap]

Shameless flirting: check. Lots of endearments: check. (Well, it's a lot for Randy.) That blinding pink: double check, and how did he manage it?

"Nope," Randy answers, but he whips a handkerchief from one back pocket. "I got this… s'a little mucky, though."

[Farlane/Faye Fairlane]

Apparently even the color limitations of human hair gave away under the mighty power of Farlane’s pinkness.

Anyone else would have probably thought twice about taking anything from Rattrap, but Faye shrugs, “That’ll do,” and takes the proffered piece of cloth.

“So, whatcha doin’ ‘round these parts?” he asks as he wipes his fingers. Eying the shorter man’s current attire, he tilts his head and teases, “buffin’ up for some sweetheart?”

[Rattrap]

"Psh," and Randy waves off that idea with a shrug and a flick of his fingers. "Do I look the kinda guy who'd have a sweetheart?" Sometimes it's his natural charm that drives off the ladies. Sometimes it's the work stink that, in spite of regular showers to keep from being yelled at over hygiene and the susceptibility of the human body to a wide range of horrific diseases brought on by the sort of biologics he runs into on a daily basis, he can't seem to quite shed. Maybe he's just forever doomed to bring his work home with him one way or another. "Their loss if y'ask me," he adds, crossing his arms. "Nah, I just like to keep in shape. Can't get rusty in my line o' work."

Now, he's pretty sure this is Farlane, if only because two people like Farlane in the universe would be like having two Dinobots – a crime against nature. But he doesn't want to get friendly and end up with a hole in his head from some 'Con. Oh, how he misses his internal communications.

"Speakin' of work," he goes on, "what's your story?" And he thinks back to the interview just so he can compare notes, see if anything matches up.

[Farlane/Faye Fairlane]

“Oh please, masculine scent aside, you look like you could have multiple sweethearts,” Faye says, trying to nudge the other man in his side with an elbow as he hands him back the handkerchief. Then again, he wasn’t exactly the best of people ask about definitively attractive traits in people. His standards weren’t exactly... high.

“Stripper n’ underwear model,” Faye shrugs with a laugh, reaching into his bag. “I don’t even know how I managed to get those jobs, but I guess there are people out there with a thing for pink.”

Offering Randy a bag of M&Ms with a quirked brow, he asks, “So what do you do?”

[Rattrap]

Underwear model? Stripper? Yeah, Randy can see Farlane in that line of work as a human as much as he didn't see himself in septic maintenance up until this point. He has trouble believing this extra life of his couldn't have involved a better post-military career. He takes that nudge in the shoulder – figures he'd still be the vertically impaired one – and quirks an eyebrow up as if he finds that answer odd. He gets the idea that sideburns like those don't show up on just any underwear model.

"If you say so," he hedges, taking back his handkerchief and eyeing the candy questioningly. "Me," he adds, "I just crawl 'round sewers all day, dodgin' pet gators. Nothin' too fabulous."

[Farlane/Faye Fairlane]

“Oh please, it’s not the job, it’s the man,” and Faye says ‘man’ with the most ridiculously delicious purr as he eyes sweep over Randy. Then he laughs and adds, “Although if you aren’t happy fabbing up the sewers, I jus’ heard there might be spot opening up in the strip-joint...”

“Well, take it, honey,” Faye says at the questioning glance, trying to press the candy into Randy’s palm. “I got more n’ enough and you could use a bit more energy after that jog, huh?”

[Rattrap]

"Ma always told me not to take candy from strangers," Randy quips with a smirk. He adds, eyebrow rising, "Am I gonna have to get the water hose?"

[Farlane/Faye Fairlane]

“Well, I never did mind impromptu wet t-shirt contests,” Faye grins. “Anyways, I’m gettin’ just the strangest feelin’ that we ain’t such strangers, you know?” But he puts the candy back into the bag.

“We ever met before?”

[Rattrap]

"Oh, I'd remember meetin' somebody like you," says Randy, one eyebrow climbing for his receding hairline at the wet t-shirt remark. Because he does remember. He adds as he fishes in his pocket for a pen and a bit of paper only to realise he has neither – Primus, does he ever miss his arm compartments – "But yeah, it's got that familiar feelin', don't it?" He gives up the search and shrugs. "You got a pen or somethin'?"

[Farlane/Faye Fairlane]

“Well, don’t have have a pen but I do got a phone,” Faye says as he pulls said phone out of his pocket. It had been a sleek black smartphone before Faye got it a garish pink, rhinestone and faux flower studded case.

“Gonna give me your number, honey?” he asks, grinning.