Constructicon Lab Rat

[Starfighter]

Starfighter feels good about himself, for once. He's been working on his target practice and combat skills, albeit by himself because he's too embarrassed to show anyone how out of shape he is when it comes to anything besides flying high and shooting at things on the ground. But the Autobots have their share of flying objects as well and he'll probably need it if he's going to be playing medic during their next battle.

But he's got his head up and his shoulders set and considers that the day may actually be going well for a change.

[Mixmaster]

Mixmaster was wandering the halls with no set destination in mind. In his hand was a datapad that might look to someone else to have nothing more stored on it than illegible scribbles and drawings. Nothing important.

Hah.

Oh, wait. The chemist froze and back peddled behind a corner, peering around it as inconspicuously as a green and purple mixing truck can.

Blue jet. Check. Normal wings...in his opinion based on many first-hand experiences? Check.

What perfect timing.

Mixmaster eases around the corner, bends lightly at the knees, tenses, and then flings himself forward to try and tackle who was, probably, Starfighter.

Someone who was familiar with Earth culture might add in the unspoken 'BANZAAAAI!' for effect.

---

OOC: Pretty sure this needs to be done...takes place sometime after 'An Unexpected Party' and before 'Fireblade'

[Starfighter]

"Eeeeek!" Starfighter toppled over, scrambling to try and get his guns into position to fire at--oh. Him. Not to be shooting his superiors, that made for bad karma.

"Um...hello, Mixmaster, sir," he asked nervously, trying not to flail too much at the larger mech on top of him. He'd heard that Hook's gestaltmate was a little on the kooky side, but this was just strange.

"Is there, um, something I can do for you?"

------------

OOC: Any abuse and manhandling of Starfighter by Mixmaster is done with permission and mostly for the lulz.

[Mixmaster]

Mixmaster sat up on his knees and grinned down at the jet he was straddling.

"Hello, jetling!" Sir? That was an odd thing to say. And what sort of Decepticon didn't shoot the unknown, heavy, airborne lunatic who was stupid enough to tackle them? Maybe this would be easier than he'd thought it would be.

...Slag-it.

"Nothing much, nothing much," he said in response to the question, grin widening as he reached forward to prod the jet lightly on the cheek-plating.

"How are you this fine day?"

[Starfighter]

Starfighter's optics were large with confusion and dismay. This was very confusing, and people being overly nice to him usually meant they were going to do something very nasty to him in the next few minutes and find his pleas for mercy to be utterly amusing.

"Not...bad, sir. I was coming back from engaging in combat practice," he said meekly, trying to figure out what he was supposed to do here. Mixmaster knew Hook thought he was useful, right? He didn't want to end up art.

[Mixmaster]

Mixmaster tilted his head at Starfighter and squirmed forward a little to rest higher up on the jet's chest, knees just barely brushing the wings.

Then he poked Starfighter between the optics, leaning forward slightly, and keeping his finger resting there as his other hand settled on his own leg.

"Combat practice, Starfighter? You must be tired then, yes?"

And here was where he found out if he'd actually found the right jet, or if Hook would be killing him later.

[Starfighter]

Eeeek. Please don't panic please don't panic he's only messing around please don't go flaring up again...

"O-only a little, sir," Starfighter mumbled awkwardly, squirming a bit to see if he could wiggle through the floor to back away from the crazy chemist. Sadly, the laws of physics were against him that day. "If you need me to go fetch something, I can do it." Especially if it was far, far away.

[Mixmaster]

Success! A reaction!

Mixmaster tilts his head in the opposite direction and grins before he sits up straighter and higher, leaving the jet a bit more room. He wasn't an idiot, however, and he firmly tightened his knees around Starfighter's midsection to help prevent escape. It wouldn't do for the only jet he'd been given permission to play with to get away, it wouldn't.

Sorry, Starfighter.

"If I needed something I could get it myself," Mixmaster says with a lazy wave of his hand, dismissing the question carelessly.

"Hook mentioned you, he did. I was curious."

Starfighter didn't need to know that Hook had mentioned him in response to Mixmaster's question about a test subject. Mixmaster had a hunch that wouldn't go over very well.

[Starfighter]

"Oh." Starfighter desperately wanted to run, yes, but obedience to superiors was practically hardwired into his core. Mixmaster's legs around his midsection were hardly needed, although they made the situation feel all the more uncomfortable--he'd been in one 'sex scandal' already, he didn't need another. "What, uh...what were you curious about, exactly?"

There was an audible hiss as Starfighter drew in air suddenly. His lasercore, of course. Hook hadn't been too interested, but he'd been busy. Maybe Mixmaster wanted to take a closer look at him, maybe even take him apart to figure out what went wrong.

[Mixmaster]

"Hook mentioned you." This is the only excuse he offers because to him, it's the only excuse he needs.

Mixmaster stared down at Starfighter curiously.

What a jumpy jet. It was kind of cute, actually.

...

Remember the lasercore, Mixmaster. Wouldn't do to kill the jet before you drugged him. Dead mechs don't give quite the same response as live ones.

[Starfighter]

"Mentioned what about me?" The whirring of his intakes is getting louder and more labored, and it's quite obvious that Starfighter's struggling to keep himself from shoving Mixmaster away and running to lock himself in his room for the next few days or so.

[Mixmaster]

Now Mixmaster frowns.

Jumpy jet is very jumpy.

"He said that you were useful...and something about your lasercore but I didn't listen much to that." Mixmaster shrugs, a gesture he'd picked up from the humans, prods Starfighter once more between the optics, and rolls off him.

He then links his legs around Starfighter's because he doesn't know that Starfighter won't run just yet, but for once he's making it as non-threatening as he possibly can.

This was a much more fun game than just shoving the sedative onto the jet, it was. Much more fun.

"Hook doesn't usually say others are useful...I was just curious." Mixmaster goes from gazing at the wall to staring at Starfighter.

"I d-didn't mean to scare you. I j-just wanted to say hello..."

[Starfighter]

"Oh," Starfighter repeated, starting to relax a little bit. He adored any scraps of praise handed down to him from legitimate sources, and until then he'd thought Hook saw him as merely a necessary annoyance.

The seeker's intakes started to calm again at hearing that his lasercore is not of interest. "It's all right, I just...you just surprised me. I'm not used to people jumping me when they're not trying to kill me." Or do other unsavory things to his being.

[Mixmaster]

Mixmaster grinned at him again. Bright and cheerful and oh-so trustworthy.

So this jet responded to better to disinterest, but enjoyed praise? Interesting. That wasn't quite like most jets he'd met over the many years.

This was going to be fun.

"Yes, yes, he told me not to do you any damage because you were fairly useful. S-so I was curious."

Mixmaster leaned back on his arms nd tilted his head at the jet again. "What do you do?"

[Starfighter]

No damage, yay! This made Starfighter far less scared that he wouldn't live to see another battle.

"I help Hook out with repairs and log miscellaneous data, mostly. Before I got pulled here I worked as Shockwave's personal assistant." He shifted, trying to sit up a bit and face Mixmaster properly, trying to form a weak smile. "But mostly I just do what I'm told."