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Post by Farlane/Faye Fairlane on Dec 22, 2009 12:41:57 GMT -5
Day two, private thread.
Something gaudy and pink this way comes. There was the confident 'clack, clack, clack' of lethal metal high heels striking the floor in a staccato beat to herald its arrival too.
Bouncily strutting along, big hips swinging like a an enthusiastic pendulum, Farlane moves down the hall in a manner not unlike a storm cloud made of cotton candy and curves. Even the the long 'skirt' kibble attached to his hips are perked cheerfully, swinging to and fro behind him and ethusiastically threatening to smack unwary passerbys.
He was smiling of course- the sunny kind of smile that people wore on a walk through uptown Iacon and it didn't really fit in with the rest of the image. He might as well have breezed through these hallways a hundred times over rather than being plunked unceremoniously into a different universe a mere dozen or so hours before.
As it is, he's making his humble way to an interview. Which was... in this room?
The door cycles open and Farlane peers inside with a wide-opticked expression of curiosity. Perfectly befitting of an innocent young fembot, but as Farlane was not young, innocent or a fembot (looking more womanly than most fembots aside), one has to wonder what such a look was doing on him.
"Hullo?"
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Rattrap
Major
Sarcasm as a Lifestyle
Posts: 695
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Post by Rattrap on Dec 23, 2009 12:29:02 GMT -5
At first glance, the room our resident Praxus showboat has found appears to be empty. It's a rather nondescript room – bare bulkheads and deck with a single properly sized, L-shaped desk, one narrow end butted up against the bulkheads so that a Transformer can slip in through the gap near the back and be neatly boxed in while he works. However, there's no-one sitting at that desk. There are no decorations or belongings to indicate anyone even uses this room as a workspace. But really, Rattrap's too short to decorate and he's just borrowing the room until somebody with a better temperament can take this leadership thing and run with it. Yeah. 'Cause somebody will come along, sure.
Yeah, right. He's stuck with this gig and he just knows it. Like he's stuck with this little vetting session, as a matter of fact. He can't fault the logic in having him do it – okay, so he can fault the logic, because of the many talents he possesses, one is nitpicking his commanders – but he isn't happy about it. This is the kind of thing command staff do and he hates being included in command staff when he can't lord it over jerkwad traitors.
So he's sitting in the opposite corner of that big desk, tipped back in his chair with his feet propped up on his own little desk-he-dragged-in-here-for-this and ankles crossed, patently not doing any work he probably ought to be doing, when the new arrival peeps around the doorjamb. Right away, Rattrap sneers; that doe-eyed look – just like the one Cheetor used to wear all the time – does not reassure him and he sighs a grumbling sort of sigh, optics narrowing to slits as he shakes his head.
"Take a seat," he mutters in a long-suffering tone, flicking one hand at the big desk and not giving his own butt if Farlane actually sees him.
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Post by Farlane/Faye Fairlane on Dec 23, 2009 14:44:59 GMT -5
The door cycles shut and the circular metal rings dangling from his helm jingle as he swivels his head to peer at Rattrap. There is a moment of contemplative silence before Farlane shrugs, and obediently walks over to the desk.
A noisy whirr followed by a heavy 'thunk' of the pink bot lifting and setting his long metal skirts down on the desk was followed by some shuffling and more noises of him getting properly seated. Afterwards Farlane crosses his long, curvy legs, takes a few seconds to fuss and preen before settling his dainty white hands onto his lap and putting on a smile bright enough to outshine most of the room's lights.
"My, my," Farlane's voice was a vertiable purr, "am I just lucky or do they usually get cuties for this job?"
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Rattrap
Major
Sarcasm as a Lifestyle
Posts: 695
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Post by Rattrap on Dec 29, 2009 16:44:38 GMT -5
Rattrap gives his guest a scathing look from under his brow ridge and his lip curls into a sneer.
"Look, doll," he says as he whips out a datapad, "better than you have tried sweet-talkin' me. Flattered though I may be dat you'd like to make this a social visit–" And there's the slightest twinkle to his optics that says his ego has taken a nice, deep inhale in spite of his preference to be doing just about anything but this, "–I can't get busy wit' a five-ton booty, so you can lay off the act." Which act – the wide-eyed innocent newbie or the cooing flirt – is dealer's choice. Rattrap has his doubts about both.
"Now. We'll start wit' da basics. Name, timestamp," and build type, "an' do you gotta laser core, a spark, a, uh… brain module, or somethin' else we ain't covered yet?"
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Post by Farlane/Faye Fairlane on Dec 30, 2009 7:23:33 GMT -5
"Baby, puh-leeeaaase," Farlane huffs dramatically, "size is a horrible excuse." This followed by an epic pout, as if not molesting Rattrap was the most disappointing thing ever. That didn't last long though and he goes right back to smiling when the questions start up.
"Name s' Farlane," he cocks his head to one side, fiddling with his jingly head ornaments, "but I ain't averse to 'doll', 'honey', 'guuuuurl' or your fiance's name as a matter a' fact." Shrugging, the pink mech leans back and places his palms on the desk.
"Got dragged in from <after 'Nightmare Planet'>," build type? He had one a while back, but then curves happened. "and, ah, I got a laser core, unless the fellow who modded me went too crazy."
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Rattrap
Major
Sarcasm as a Lifestyle
Posts: 695
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Post by Rattrap on Jan 1, 2010 22:14:14 GMT -5
"I'm allergic ta crush injuries," Rattrap says, waving off the impending hussy fit and tapping in the answers Farlane gives him.
Besides that, he knows he doesn't get paid enough to afford the ticket on those tail-lights.
"Laser core, okay… and, ehh, Vector Sigma? Or Primus?" Or both. Is this an interview or a speed-date?
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Post by Farlane/Faye Fairlane on Jan 2, 2010 10:18:52 GMT -5
Farlane's ex-girlfriend was nearly as big as Omega Supreme, but Farlane turned out fine!
Well, mostly. Now he has an orbital sniper to look out for.
"Vector Sigma," the pink mech chirps. If he had his way, this would totally be a speed-date.
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Rattrap
Major
Sarcasm as a Lifestyle
Posts: 695
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Post by Rattrap on Jan 6, 2010 13:26:41 GMT -5
Farlane doesn't have extra-fragile squishy bits plastered all over him. Rattrap kinda needs those intact.
Tap, tap. Rattrap peers up at Farlane again; he has his ideas about what the answer to the next question will be, but things rarely go the way Rattrap expects. Rattrap always expects things to go south, though, so at least when all goes well, he can be pleasantly surprised.
"Least we got an idea where you're from," mutters Rattrap in a sort of stage whisper, "though there ain't much of a resemblance…." He shakes his head, then looks squarely at Farlane with his best no, I really don't care face and pitches his voice once more for conversation. "So, ehh. Whaddaya do, exactly?" He waves his free hand at the wrist and adds, "Repair, techie work, good with a gun, grunt stuff…?" Yes, he's avoiding the elephant in the other corner.
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Post by Farlane/Faye Fairlane on Jan 6, 2010 20:18:03 GMT -5
Fragile squishy bits? Handling fragile squishy bits is one of Farlane's fields of expertise!
"I can generally do all a' those," Farlane nods after a moment of mentally going over his long list of previous jobs. "Ain't a genius at 'em, but I can do 'em. Gotta warn you though; guns? I don't have a lot of militarytrainin '. And complicated techie and repair stuff is outta my league, but I can fix some basic stuff so your eggheads don't need t' worry about it."
"That aside, I also cook, clean, pilot, and uh, entertain in many ways," wink wink, "I can also translate a couple a' languages-" he pauses to check his program's stats, "twenty languages. Not fluent with most of 'em though."
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Rattrap
Major
Sarcasm as a Lifestyle
Posts: 695
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Post by Rattrap on Jan 10, 2010 11:10:19 GMT -5
Rattrap would rather not somebody three or four times his size handle his fragile squishy parts, thanks. He pauses halfway through Farlane's list of talents and just notes JOATMON at the bottom before moving on.
"Well," he says, "you're probably gonna get more trainin' wit' those guns. Doesn't do much good around here if ya can't at least hit the broad side o' somebody wit' a blaster. Preferably a 'Con." Even the greenest Maximal explorers were given some basic instruction. A few of them didn't completely stink, either.
Metaphorically speaking, that is.
"Anything else you wanna share wit' the class?" wonders Rattrap, sounding distinctly bored. He never was an easy audience.
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Post by Farlane/Faye Fairlane on Jan 12, 2010 17:42:51 GMT -5
"I can hit things-" insert indignant huff, "it just wasn't really my, you know, kink. 'Specially when the targets move and generally shoot back." Farlane really liked his shiny pink aft intact, you know? Plus he's only a masochist if the pay was enough to get a decade's supply of decent energon. Good thing there was something more important than a decade's supply of energon at stake here, huh?
"Nope sir!" This said with a cheerful, jingly head shake. The only things he'd share from this point onwards was the TMI kind of things anyways. "So, like, should I get the slag out an' letcha brood now?"
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Rattrap
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Sarcasm as a Lifestyle
Posts: 695
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Post by Rattrap on Jan 21, 2010 12:23:26 GMT -5
"I ain't broodin'," Rattrap counters airily with a lopsided grin, waving one hand, "I'm killin' time." Not his favourite way to kill time, but there was this whole interview thing throwing a spanner in the works. "And I got one last question for ya." His expression turns deadly serious and he sets down the pad, leaning forward on his elbows. "I noticed you ain't got brands. You, eh… care t' explain why?" The sociable mood from before is gone.
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Post by Farlane/Faye Fairlane on Jan 23, 2010 14:48:20 GMT -5
Farlane's cheery face takes a one eighty and careens through 'confusion' before settling simply on 'flat'.
"Brand." The tone of his voice is mildly incredulous. Here he was, Farlane, the epitome of all things ridiculously flamboyant and hedonistic- and he was being asked why he didn't have a brand? Well, alright, that would've be a legitimate question to ask if he'd been back in his old body looking like Prowl's twice removed cousin. The current state of affairs was a tad different.
For one, it would be very, very easy to turn around and show Rattrap the classy tramp stamp that was currently residing snugly above his bum. Is that the brand you were looking for?
"I'm a neutral." The pink mech answers instead, valiantly resisting the temptation. "I get the weird feel that's gonna change soon, though."
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Rattrap
Major
Sarcasm as a Lifestyle
Posts: 695
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Post by Rattrap on Jan 27, 2010 14:30:34 GMT -5
"Neutral," Rattrap echoes in a tone like grease sliding across a pan. If you ask Rattrap, he'll say that neutrals are just wishy-washy wastes of space who don't want bad things happening but don't want to get their hands dirty with the work it takes to stop jerks from doing things they don't like. Which is probably why Rattrap is rarely asked. "So what's your angle? What's ta keep you from turnin' that high-polished tail if the pay's better on the other side o' the fence?" he wonders with a faint sneer, teeth peeking out and optics narrow.
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Post by Farlane/Faye Fairlane on Jan 28, 2010 0:00:50 GMT -5
"'Fraid I ain't after the pay," Farlane says, feeling distinctly unsurprised by the expression that'd scrawled itself onto the little fellow's face. He lets himself smile bemusedly for a moment before adding, "I won't object if you guys did pay, though."
Yeah, his money was kind of in another universe at the moment.
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