"Oh, frag you with an arc welder. I said happier," Swerve snaps, glaring back around one fender. "Not happy." Nothing to be happy about. Stuck in the middle of nowhere with no roads, a slag-sucking oldtimer Autobot who doesn't need the medic he brought along, and no way out but slogging on foot through muck that's worse than the nastiest patch of sinking sand he's ever seen.
Loads of sunshine and fun here.
The idea that he can't drive even if there is an almost decent patch of ground just makes it worse and he growls, more engine than anything else. If there was anything but Kup to punch, he'd smash his fists into it.
"Oh. Oh. Oh," Kup answered, grin on his face, tone maddeningly light-hearted, hands in the air in mock surrender. "Excuse me. So my figuring that the positive scale wasn't there was correct after all." It's almost as if he's /trying/ to get Swerve to punch him, in't it? Of course, the problem there is that Kup hits back.
OOC: We should probably include some scene-cuts and stuff... and we seem to be approaching one. What say you?
OOC: Scene cuts fine by me. Fortunately for Swerve's hand, he isn't so wound up that he can't remember how solidly Kup's built and how likely he is to just hurt himself if he does haul off and clock the smart-mouthed old clunker like he so desperately wants. But how much longer that'll last even Swerve can't be sure, especially not with Kup smirking like he just took first or something.
"Will you just shut up?!" bellows the racer at top volume, scowl twisted up in rage and frustration.
It's like the angrier Swerve gets, the happier Kup is. If Swerve had ears, steam might well be shooting from them right about now. As it is, he feels far too warm.
"I don't slagging care!" Swerve roars, rounding on one heel to storm right at the oldtimer, one fist raised. "And y'know why?" He stops and points at Kup, just short of jabbing the other Autobot with his finger. "'Cause it ain't getting me any further away from you!" He turns half away, then back again, demanding in confusion, "Are you trying to drive me up the wall? Is that it?!"
"Naw," Kup answers as he continues to slog forward. "I'm trying to be friendly. I realize that's a foreign experience for you and all, but..." Kup stops and gives Swerve a look more serious, more sincere... and perhaps a bit sadder. "But, well, that ain't right."
And with that, he turns to trudge forward once more, now in silence.
Swerve can't think of a reply to that. He can't think straight that well at all, but he especially can't come up with an answer. He opens his mouth, then shuts it again, scowling at Kup while the old Autobot walks right on past him. He manages to start on something, more engine noise than anything else – foreign experience?! – but fails to follow through and just sputters into silence again.
Finally, he turns and follows Kup, giving him a sullen look the entire time.
It might've been handy to crash earlier in the day instead of just a few hours from sunset, Kup reflects as his leg sinks deep into a spot he had thought was solid. He growls softly as his arms pinwheel automatically for a moment before he regains his balance, then he starts to pull himself back out. His chipper mood is, by now, long gone.
"Of all the diode-blowing, gear-cracking, grill-bending... the headlights and whatnot ain't doing the job, Swerve," Kup grumbles as he pulls himself ashore. "looks like we're going to have to stop at the next kinda-dryish spot we can find and wait for daylight."
The best Swerve can see, even with his headlamps and chestlamps blasting high beams, is a lot of Kup's backside and it feels like he might never get the mud out of his ankles. Stopping sounds like the first good suggestion Kup's made. Not that Swerve's devoting much processor power to recall right now.
"If there's anything dry in this little slice of the Pit," he growls, perhaps defining dry far too literally, "I'll take up ship-building." The breadth of his legs is a problem in all this mud, making him drag along at a maddeningly sluggish pace, and the stuff is seeping into his rear brakes. At least he's moving slowly enough to try skirting whatever hollow it was that took Kup off balance. He'd rather have knee-deep sand right about now, but anything more solid than this is still an improvement.
"Dry'd be nice," Kup agrees as he trudges forward, now testing his footing far more carefully before putting his full weight on it. This, unfortunately, slows him down quite a bit. "Not going to sink in overnight might be the best we can do, though." He points up ahead. "I /think/ I see the bottoms of those trees? That they ain't going directly into water? Let's try that spot." He takes another two steps forward, then pauses to glance back at Swerve.
"Oh. And if I vanish suddenly, don't try stepping where I was."
"I don't need you t' tell me that," Swerve grumbles in reply, picking and choosing his own steps but never once fully stopping. He doesn't even care that he's just going wherever the smelt Kup points; if there's a chance it's a refuge from seepage and gunk in his brakes, he's there.
With a precariously-balanced pause to try disentangling his foot from the roots and long, stringy plant things that've gotten caught around it. He makes disgusted noises as he peels something out of the gap just above his foot because it's slimy and sticky. It doesn't even have the decency to come with a familiar viscosity.
"Pave it all over!" he snarls, slinging aside his handful of plant muck. "Every last mile of it!"
"Eh. The road would just sink into the much," Kup answers, trudging on. "Besides, there's creatures that live here. No need to kill 'em all off, just because we don't like their home."
He eventually reaches the spot, a small 'island' that is damp rather than wet, from which several trees grow. Kup stomps down on it a few times, and his foot only sinks in a little bit. He sighs, then turns back towards Swerve. "Still, at this point I can see the appeal. I'm an off-road kind of guy myself, but this is a bit too off-road for me."
Swerve figures if the first round of paving doesn't work out, just pave it again. Doesn't make sense, but to him, neither does leaving a useless mass of wet plants and dirt like this no matter what lives in it. Then again, he comes from a world that's almost biologically dead.
"This ain't off-road. This is a nightmare," he declares venomously, kicking off still more mud. Just a couple more steps to mostly dry land.
Dry land that comes rushing up to meet his face when his foot catches under a tree root and, already overbalanced, he trips and pitches forward. It isn't getting smashed in the face by wet dirt that hurts. It's the ground slamming into his ventral plate that hurts. Swerve lies very still for a few seconds, trying to work around the shock. He finally manages a low groan.
"Well, it obviously ain't on-" Kup starts to snap back, then cuts himself off suddenly as Swerve falls. His automatic instinct is to smirk, but he quickly stows that over how long it takes Swerve to do anything after he does hit the ground... and from there he becomes concerned as the first thing Swerve does is groan.
Kup steps towards him and crouches down, reaching for the nearest shoulder. "Hey, Swerve? You all right there?"
"Fine," comes Swerve's raspy answer. "Nothing broken." He works on getting his arms under him, pipes propping him up a little higher. He accidentally meets Kup halfway as he tries to get back up, shoulder butting into the veteran's palm, and Swerve stops dead again to look up. The moment of confusion passes quickly and he drags himself upright, out of Kup's reach. He just cycles air for another few seconds to wait out the echoes firing down his tactile relays.
Finally, he looks at Kup again with a scowl and adds, "Bet you thought that was fraggin' hilarious."