Over the Hills and Not Very Far Away

[Perceptor-3]

"Hmm..." Agreement, or appreciation, or perhaps just filler, but something satisfied threading through that sound, nonetheless. "Pride would dictate a rebuttal, perhaps remarking upon correcting the calculations made in that procedure publication."

That's what this is ultimately all about, isn't it? Pride? Like stags rutting, locking antlers and shoving wiuth all their might, neither willing to back down to the other. Pride and dominance.

Hook may detect a faint tremor that runs through Perceptor's fram as the engineer manipulates that delicate control. He should definitely feel how Perceptor's fingertips drag across that boom arm with a rougher, harder touch. With his hand freed from Hook's grasp now, however, it is time for a little more turnabout. He tries to catch the engineer's hand in his own for a little manipulation of his own.

[Hook]

"Pride would dictate that, wouldn't it? Pride dictates ever so much when it is earned well and truly." A less intelligent, but just as intrigued, mech might consider a nip on that red 'scope to not be out of place. Such mechs wouldn't have survived millenia with Mixmaster to get to this point.

He shifts away from Perceptor's questing hand, twisting the knob on his forearm teasingly and staying just out of the scientist's grasp.

[Perceptor-3]

A nip on his scope would have earned Hook a swift introduction to that tree Perceptor is getting accquainted with. Or at least a hard scuffle as Perceptor would have made the attempt.

A sudden image fills Perceptor's mind - what would those hands do to the finely crafted circuit boards of a particular Emirate? What could those hands do beside his own? My, how these Decepticons here intrigue him.

But this game is a little too... one sided. He would like a more balanced venue. The flash of blue optics is all the warning he gives Hook as he suddenly shifts, throwing his weight into the engineer, twisting, turning, pulling against that green and purple plating to shift them both about.

More himself than Hook, truth be told. Still pinned - mostly - but now chest to chest, one hand curled possessively around Hook's hip, the other resting along Hook's side, creeping its way back to that crane boom. There's a soft whirr of servos as his scope cants up just out of reach of a certain too-curious mouth, as Perceptor's expression widens back into that smirk.

"Perhaps an examination is in order to verify the validity of that pride."

[Hook]

Oh, but, Perceptor?

Hook can fly.

He rather likes this new position. Much less work to hold Perceptor in place, much more opportunity to touch and explore while satisfying his intrigue. This Perceptor is as viciously cruel as few Decepticon medical engineers chose to be, and it is such a delight to wonder what they might build together.

"Perhaps one is," he agrees, fingertips trailing down Perceptor's arm to that fun knob. "But it would be quite unfair not to correspond further on anything we might learn in such an examination."

---

Fade to black?

[Perceptor-3]

Perceptor's only response is a soft, satisfied purr of agreement as his hands begin a slow trek along Hook's plating.

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ooc: Fade To Black.