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Post by Kup on Feb 10, 2012 22:06:30 GMT -5
"'You cops'?" Kate asks, snorting. "Look, it's not like I asked to be dropped into this life anymore than you asked for that," she gestures. "Anyway, they got good reason to be worried when folks don't have a past. Around here, that's usually bad news. And, hell, right now, it could mean a 'Con."
She settles back into her seat, takes a bite, and speaks through a full mouth, "Anyway, some folks seem to have a life that they can't remember, but the records are there. Others have a set of human memories to go with our Transformer ones..." she picks up her beer and swallows it down. "Some even seem to have trouble remembering they was Transformers at all. Could be those scars are some sort of incomplete try to give you a pass." She looks at the back of one hand. "Me, I'm missing scars I should have, but it seems like that's 'cause I heal faster and more complete than humans are s'posed to." She remembers that, too, as part of the past that isn't hers.
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Post by Swerve on Feb 14, 2012 13:37:36 GMT -5
Willard just grunts and applies himself to his food. He'd rather silence the noisy thing that seems to pass for his fuel tank now than wonder what sort of life he was supposed to have had that resulted in the swaths of ragged scars, or why the ones that look newest are where he should have new pipe joints and knees.
He grabs a second box, this one full of something he remembers a woman explaining as rice, pauses to drain most of his beer, and shovels in a few spoonfuls of the bland, sticky stuff.
"…Thanks," he mumbles grudgingly. He'd been considering heading to the diner on the next block; as much as he dislikes relying on charity, he dislikes feeling hungry even more.
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Post by Kup on Feb 14, 2012 21:48:22 GMT -5
Kate shrugs. She has a hard time seeing it as 'charity' when it's another Autobot. "Welcome," she answers.
She takes another bite, then washes it down with beer. "So... that fight we broke up. What the blazes was that all about, anyway? From what I could gather, that was an organized thing. And no, I'm not gonna make you give over names in our 'off time,' but if you're mixed up in some kinda trouble, the rest of us need to know." The rest of the 'Bots, of course.
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Post by Swerve on Feb 14, 2012 22:28:58 GMT -5
"S'about fighting," says Willard between bites, shrugging. "Winners make some money. Gotta thing about it here… paper… somewhere." He frowns, gaze turning distant as he tries to remember where he tossed the flyer that introduced him to the fighting rings, then leaves the table to go find it because it'll nag him until he does. He vanishes into the back room, what was once the office, and his voice is muffled while he searches. "I dunno that many names," he says. "Names don't matter. Lotta nicknames, I guess." He's been up against the Hammer, the One-Punch Machine Gun, and Mad Max in various bouts.
He upends his cot and the stacked crates beside it – not as though they won't be easy to set right again later – and eventually returns, rumpled, water-stained flyer in hand. He passes it off to Kate as he sits back down.
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Post by Kup on Feb 15, 2012 20:28:02 GMT -5
Kate accepts the piece of paper, putting down her beer but holding onto her fork (it's not that she rates the fork higher than the beer, but it's important to finish with beer so that the solids can be washed down).
"So's this whatcha gotta do for cash?" she asks, looking over the flyer. Then she looks up at Willard and studies him. "Or is this whatcha gotta do to blow off steam?"
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Post by Swerve on Feb 19, 2012 11:08:55 GMT -5
A shrug is the only answer for a few seconds as Willard reapplies himself to his food. The beer is nice and all – he's still adjusting to the concept of thirst as opposed to hunger, and he was thirsty, and the beer's pleasantly cold – but it's that empty rumble in his stomach he wants to silence.
"Money helps," he answers eventually around a mouthful, tone dismissive more than anything else, brows low in thought. His scowl wrinkles the scar across the bridge of his nose. "Some folks aren't as happy to trade a working car for some stuff." But mostly, he throws himself into those fights so that when the rage and the fear are too much to bear, he can hurt somebody without feeling guilty about it.
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Post by Kup on Feb 19, 2012 17:37:08 GMT -5
Money helps
Kate can guess what that means. So she prods. "Y'know, the rest of us can help with the money thing," she points out before stabbing a piece of chicken and popping it in her mouth.
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Post by Swerve on Feb 19, 2012 22:56:16 GMT -5
"I didn't know there was anybody else here until you showed up," Willard fires right back and points at the flyer. "I found those guys only a couple days in. I got to thinkin' I was the only one… and…." He trails off into his beer and leaves the subject again. Dwelling on it makes his head ache and starts up a stinging sensation in his eyes he doesn't like. "Besides," he goes on after a few seconds, "I can bust up those guys all I like." Or get busted up.
In a way, he thinks, it's not that much different from the oilsport racing. No wonder he's so comfortable with it.
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Post by Kup on Feb 20, 2012 17:05:08 GMT -5
"Y'know this town's got pretty... generous masked vigilante laws, right?" Kate asks. She does, of course, have ulterior motives for wanting Willard to find legal ways to let off steam. Given the fact that she's a cop, it reduces the chance of her being put in a situation where there's a conflict of interests. But more than that, there's liable to be only so much the 'Bots can do to protect him, and... depending on what he gets up to, only so much they should do to protect them.
Kate's come a long way with Willard, and she'd hate to see all of that blown now.
She scoops up some rice with some sauce covered covered snow peas and shoves it in her mouth.
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Post by Swerve on Feb 24, 2012 13:11:40 GMT -5
Willard makes a scornful sound that clearly isn't meant for human vocal cords, judging by the roughness and lack of much variation, and the way he grimaces. He downs some more beer, but he still sounds like he just tried to gargle with gravel.
"Those wingnuts running around in stupid tight clothes?" he asks. Then he snorts. "It'll be a cold day in the Pit first."
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Post by Kup on Feb 24, 2012 20:13:14 GMT -5
Kate rolls her eyes. "Didn't know you had such a concern with fashion," she mutters. Then louder, "Anyway, not all of 'em wear the 'uniform.' Some stick with street clothes, or military gear. For crying out loud, one of 'em calls herself 'Gertrude'."
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Post by Swerve on Feb 26, 2012 22:21:51 GMT -5
Willard says nothing for a moment, chewing slowly through a chunk of beef and glaring at the wall. Then he swallows and fixes Kate with a piercing look, eyes bright under his brows.
"What's your fragged point?" he grumbles. Kup wouldn't bring up something without a point, he figures, even if the point is just to get his back up over something stupid. But, he reminds himself, she sounded concerned in that offhand, gruff way only Kup does. "You don't really think," he goes on as it slowly dawns on him, "you're gonna get me out there playing hero." It isn't a question.
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Post by Kup on Feb 28, 2012 19:10:33 GMT -5
"My point is I'm tryin' to find you a way to blow off steam that don't involve you spending every other night in jail," she grumbles, stabbing some chicken with her fork. She points the chicken in Willard's direction. "Sure, this place don't look too comfortable, but it's gotta be better than being locked up!"
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Post by Swerve on Feb 29, 2012 13:05:21 GMT -5
"It's the same difference, isn't it," Willard mutters darkly, glaring into empty air again. Whether he's in this shop or in the drunk tank, he's still trapped. Absently, he scratches the point near his wrist where he should have exhaust pipes attached. He should feel metal under metal fingers, not flesh scuffing under short fingernails. He hates this queerness with a deep, fiery loathing that his human voice can't describe. And what's a few run-ins with the law if it gets that tension out?
Though getting tossed into a cell constantly is a nuisance. He grumbles and lifts his hand to scratch the side of his neck, taking away a layer of grime in the process, and his expression goes from stifled fury to a sullen sort of contemplation. Kup may have crashed them in a Primus-cursed swamp, but the oldtimer hasn't steered him wrong yet.
"I'm not playing hero," he says firmly, pointing his fork at Kate. Unspoken that Swerve isn't really the hero type.
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Post by Kup on Feb 29, 2012 22:13:18 GMT -5
Kate quirks a brief, almost sly grin. "But you haven't even tried it yet," she says almost teasingly.
Then she pops the chicken in her mouth and chews thoughtfully. Of course, Willard being a regular lawbreaker puts her in a bit of a spot, at least if she wants to maintain her friendship with him while she's still human.
And she does.
She smirks. "You just need to make sure you go out there with someone who knows their way around, is all." That's the funny thing about having a drop-in life. She's only been human for a few weeks, and yet, she's an old hand at this.
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