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Post by Swerve on Nov 6, 2010 10:46:32 GMT -5
The cooling unit goes from unhappy hum to strained rattling as Swerve hauls himself off his bunk, not that standing gives him that much more height.
"I can handle slaggers out to shoot me," he snaps, pointing at Kup, "or beat me, or run me off a sheer drop! It's the ones who wanna make it look like – like–" He shakes his head furiously, then shoves his forehead into his palm hard enough to crack one of those tiny forehead lamps, as if pressure will alleviate the sharp pains. "Like… accident! They're the hard – never see 'em… sneaking – lying – I didn't…!" He sits back down before his legs can buckle. Not answering things people don't ask in the first place isn't lying… is it?
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Post by Kup on Nov 6, 2010 19:25:21 GMT -5
Kup looks up at Swerve at the other's frustrated rant.
"Lad, if one of us wanted to do that to you, don't you think they'd have done it by now?" Alpha Trion knows, they've got some devious types among the Autobots here.
Then he sighs. "But... I don't want that, so's... maybe we oughta table this until you've had a chance to cool down." Sure, Kup started this, but at the time, Kup himself was angry enough not to notice how badly Swerve's cooling systems were working. Kup's calmer now.
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Post by Swerve on Nov 9, 2010 18:47:14 GMT -5
"Y… you–" Swerve grimaces at the floor. "You're just–" Backing out because you're afraid is what Swerve wants to say. But he knows that makes no sense. He knows Kup – doesn't he? He puts his head in both hands now and hunches inward, bending toward the floor. Kup has no reason to do anything like that. There's always a reason driving what people do; Swerve scowls and buries his face in his palms as, in spite of the warnings blaring in his head, he keeps trying to think. Can't want my parts, he's built too tough. Doesn't need racer gear. Somebody else? Xaaron? As if Swerve could have missed the way the chrome-plated old backfire kept trying to ingratiate himself. But then the racer shakes his head at himself. No, that's stupid. He can't even transform, right? And he said….
A sudden thought reaches his baking processors – something alien and cold that makes him go very still.
What if they're just fed up with me? He said I'm where I should be, but… but I don't fit. "You," he starts to say, jaw clenched, only to stop again. It takes him another second or two before it sinks through the heat; Kup isn't the one here who's afraid. I screwed it up. I blew it. Swerve grabs at his head fins and shudders violently enough to rattle his pipes, making a strangled sound that's half growl, half sob before the tension begins easing from his frame. "R… right," he squeezes out after a few seconds. He makes no move to lie down or even uncurl himself.
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Post by Kup on Nov 9, 2010 20:37:54 GMT -5
As Swerve curls up and shudders, growling and sobbing, Kup's optics go wide. He swings his legs around to the floor and is on his feet immediately, crossing the room in only a few steps before kneeling next to Swerve and reaching for him, attempting to place a hand on Swerve's arm. It doesn't matter if he's hot - Kup tries anyway.
"Lad, what you're doing now? I'm pretty sure that doesn't count as calming down. Now come on... Swerve, none of us are out t'get you." He sighs. "What'll it take for that t'get through to you?"
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Post by Swerve on Nov 9, 2010 21:05:04 GMT -5
Swerve is much warmer to the touch than normal even for him. Not searing-hot, but the racket being made by that extra cooling unit on his back explains why. He hardly notices Kup next to him – his head hurts too much – but he hears the words. He's too hot and yet he feels cold at the same time.
It's been so long since he was scared like this.
"I – I know," he croaks in a small voice. He can't seem to cycle any air. Why can't he get any air? "Nobody… not them. Me." I fragged it all to the Pit. "It's me." I got them hurt. It's my fault the kids got hurt. But she kept thanking me! It was my fault and she thanked me! His fault and they're still giving him another chance. Why? Why do I get another? A chance he's so grateful to have that he almost can't understand why – a chance to keep something he's suddenly more terrified of losing than his life. "…I… scrapped everything," he rasps, at the same time so furious – with them for not making sense, with himself for going soft yet also for nearly destroying whatever it is he has here – and filled with dread that he's shaking.
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Post by Kup on Nov 9, 2010 22:21:21 GMT -5
Kup actually allows himself a faint smile, though his optics are still sympathetic. It doesn't please him to see Swerve in pain, but what this pain is a symptom of, what it means...
Progress. Finally.
"Maybe so," he says softly, gentle grasp on Swerve's shoulder becoming firmer to help reassure him, "but not so bad it can't be fixed, Swerve. That's the important part. Was nothing broken in that business that can't be fixed. S'lucky break, and I wouldn't suggest trying it again, mind you... but you got the chance now."
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Post by Swerve on Nov 13, 2010 14:33:51 GMT -5
Slowly, Swerve looks up from the floor between his feet, fingers sliding down to catch at his audio receptors. That stare Kup gives him makes him feel young and stupid and lost and he returns the sympathy with worry and confusion.
"I… I can't fix this," he says miserably, still shaking. I don't even know what to call this. "I fix bodies… parts… not – not slaggin' chip-fried nonsense fragged all t' the Pit and back." He makes a lame gesture, shrugging his shoulders and holding up his hands, palms to the ceiling. Then he winces and grabs his head again, grinding his jaw against the pain and the warnings flashing behind his optics. "I can't–!" I can't think!
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Post by Kup on Nov 13, 2010 16:24:52 GMT -5
"Time does most of the fixing for something like this. The part that you do is just... be there. Be there when you're needed. That, and learn from your mistakes - you may not be the only one who made mistakes out there, but figure out which ones were yours and try and avoid 'em next time." 'Try,' because Kup knows full well that these things take time, and sometimes, people slip up even once they've learned better.
As Swerve grabs at his head again, Kup moves from crouching next to Swerve to sitting next to him on Swerve's rack, the hand that had been on Swerve's shoulder moving to support his back.
"But with time, you can. I'm sure of it."
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Post by Swerve on Nov 13, 2010 17:42:24 GMT -5
Kup might notice, resting his hand on Swerve's back, that the racer isn't cooling off. He's edging closer to too warm, in fact, and it's doing nothing for the ache in his processors.
"Don't touch me!" he snarls, recoiling, infuriated with his headache and his temperature and Kup's patience and Kup's forsaken sympathy even though he knows why it's there. "Don't – don't fraggin' touch me! Time – time – had enough time to slag-blasted know I can't!" Can't think, can't cool down, can't calm down. Swerve groans and tucks himself down tightly, head between his knees and ventral plate crushed against his thighs to give him some sort of distraction. Pain works. Just said I could fix things. Even if he deserves it, punching him won't – it won't fix anything! He shudders, cooling unit rattling, ventilation whining.
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Post by Kup on Nov 13, 2010 19:17:49 GMT -5
Kup lifts his hands and backs off, giving the universal hand-signal for, 'Giving you your space now.' He had forgotten Swerve's dislike for physical contact - which, in retrospect, makes it a bit odder that Swerve didn't protest sooner, at the touch to his shoulder. "Sorry, lad, forgot," he mutters, standing up and looking down at the racer.
He stands there quiet for a few moments, then, finally says, "I... I'll give you a bit to cool down a bit."
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Post by Swerve on Nov 16, 2010 13:45:32 GMT -5
Kup gives the racer his space and a few seconds of wordless noise pass before Swerve even moves, and that's only to slump a little as his slowly down-ticking temperature comes with an easing of the pain in his head.
"Th… thanks," he wheezes, cycling his optics offline for now. He needs to stop thinking; that just makes it worse. Things can be fixed? He has to leave it at that and worry over the how of it some other time before he blows out his heatsinks.
The cooling unit is back to a low hum by the time Swerve lies down again.
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Post by Kup on Nov 16, 2010 15:27:30 GMT -5
Did Swerve just... thank him?
Hnh, the racer is feeling rough, isn't he?
Kup nods. "I've gotta go take care of some things, anyway," like, oh, fessing up to Emirate Xaaron about knowing about the overheating issue. He turns towards the door. "Y'need anything I can help with, y'got my freq," and with that, he heads out.
OOC: Out of thread unless stopped.
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Post by Swerve on Nov 17, 2010 19:36:17 GMT -5
"Right," Swerve mumbles in that faint, slurred way of someone who's already halfway out. He doesn't appear to be going anywhere any time soon.
OOC: Wrap?
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Post by Kup on Nov 21, 2010 23:30:25 GMT -5
Nope!
One conversation and report with Emirate Xaaron later...
Kup eventually returned to their shared room and throws himself onto the medical berth. He glances over at Swerve, making sure to see if the other is awake, and if he does, states, without preamble, voice full of self-annoyance, "He didn't slagging know. Not for sure, anyway."
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Post by Swerve on Nov 23, 2010 22:23:25 GMT -5
Swerve doesn't move when Kup enters, nor when Kup flops noisily onto his bunk. He doesn't seem to notice at all and is actually out cold, so to speak. Ever a light sleeper, the racket rouses him; his limbs jerk by reflex – he tends to come up swinging when startled awake – but that's as far as he gets before he just sinks back down.
"Hunh?" he mumbles, peering at the sideways Kup with dim, tired optics. The "skin" around them looks pinched, seams deepened with the lingering ache in his head. "…Who knew wha'?"
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