"Yeah, but I figure I can either listen to you up there swearin' and steamin', or I can listen to myself talk about steam ponds. So guess what I'd rather listen to?" Kup answers as he continues to carry Swerve around. He then stumbles himself, although he recovers well before he can fully unbalance. If Swerve was in a position to see his face, Swerve'd be able to see the scowl that rests there briefly.
One of the trickiest things about electrical circuits is that all points tied together with a conductor are electrically the same point - thus, a short in one area is the same as a short to anything that attaches to that point.
Granted, Transformers are well built, with systems as isolated as they can reasonably be, but one system that goes throughout their whole body is power, so that a physical short on the wrong power line in one area can affect an entirely different portion of the body.
In layman's terms, some of the water getting into Kup's shoulder is starting to muck with his sense of balance.
"Guess I better watch my step a bit carefully," is all Kup says out loud, however.
When Kup staggers, Swerve reflexively tightens his grip, trying not to be dislodged and fall into the brackish, muddy water. He can't see that look on Kup's face, but he figures the oldtimer just stepped into another of those holes in the ground. For all Swerve knows, those things are everywhere.
"If you've gotta run your mouth," he fires back, fans spinning up, once he's sure he won't end up on his rear underwater, "at least run it about something interesting! Water ain't interesting! We've got more of the stuff than I ever wanna see again!" He's starting to miss the desert even with its giant flying sand… things. At least the desert is dry. At least the desert has roads. He'll take the baking heat of the sand and rocks any day over all this. "And what'd you do, find a sinkhole?" he demands, concern buried somewhere under the aggravation.
"I don't know!" cries Swerve. He nearly shoves Kup out of reflex and only thinks better of it when he remembers hazily that his feet aren't touching the ground and he's still being toted around on the other Autobot's back. "Just – just not slaggin' water! Or trees! I don't fraggin' care if it ain't any of that! Smeltin' talk about rocks if you want!" He pauses and his engine makes a grumbling sound, sputtering with the limited ventilation his fans can manage, on his behalf. "Not like I've got anything that'll interest you anyway!" What's one planet to somebody who's seen so many?
Without much else to say, he slumps, hunched over so that his ventral assembly remains clear of contact.
"…Don't go breakin' anything thinking you gotta keep carrying me, either, oldtimer," Swerve mutters, shifting his weight uncomfortably.
"Why don't you start talkin' and let me decide what I think is interesting or not!" Kup complains, now annoyed. "I'd think by now you'd figure out that I think quite a bit is interesting!"
"And of course I gotta keep carrying you," he adds. "Your leg's mucked up, and it'll be a lot easier for whoever comes to get us to find us if we haven't split u-" then he stumbles forward again, unbalancing dangerously before he recovers. "Aw, slaggit," he grumbles, then straightens and continues trudging forward.
Swerve's scowl turns exceptionally vicious while he steadies himself, fingers gripping Kup's shoulders so tight it makes his knuckles ache.
"Fraggit, Kup," he snarls, "put me down if you're gonna keep weaving like this! Put me the smelt down or you can forget me talkin' about anything!" He gives the broad green back a shove, nearly tipping himself backwards. "I'll limp or somethin' but put me down!"
"Put you down or you'll shut up?" Kup shouts back at Swerve. "What the hell kind of a threat is that?"
"Listen, you mouthy little track-rat, you ain't getting anywhere on that bum leg of yours," Kup argues as he continues to trudge forward through the muck, "so I ain't lettin' you go 'til I can't go no far- ooooh."
And it's at this point that Kup's balance and gyro systems give out entirely and he falls face forward into the muck. It's only his good fortune he had tromped into a relatively shallow area, and he is able to get his (and presumably Swerve's) head above water by pushing up with his hands.
He spits out a mouth-full of swamp muck. "Well, I guess that joke's on me," he grumbles before looking up.
As Kup topples, so does Swerve, cursing the whole way. He kicks out with his good leg, thrashing for balance and trying to get loose so he can glare properly at Kup.
"Fraggit, oldtimer!" he barks. "I told you to put me down! You didn't and now here we are in the smelt-slagged mud! Again!" He slings water to all sides when he makes a grab for Kup to shake him. "I could've held you up or something! What the smelt's wrong with you anyway? You cracked in the head?!" His engine makes a choking sound and he grimaces, but he doesn't let that ventilation hiccough stop him. "Are you even listening?" Swerve demands, finally noticing that Kup isn't even looking at him. The racer spews out a string of rapid-fire Velocitronian, too frustrated for coherency until he finally manages to add, "Just what're you smeltin' staring at?!"
He twists himself to look upward, expecting to see something like another plant out to kill him.
It's not a plant, but it is green, and is descending fairly quickly.
It is, in fact, Springer, in chopper mode, transforming about fifty feet from the ground and landing with a dull thud, rifle in-hand. "...well, Kup, good to know you've been using your free time well. Though, I never knew you were even remotely interested in mud-wrestling." Springer is grinning as he says this though, stepping forward to help the pair out of the mud. He makes a quick call for his backup to come in, since there's two 'bots to help out, and for their transport to come in low.
---------- OOC: Fade out!
Last Edit: Aug 2, 2009 23:49:36 GMT -5 by Springer
Swerve's only answer to Kup is a furious, disgusted look, and he takes a swipe at that hand Springer's offering, slinging mud off his pipes and leaving little baked-on traces caught behind the manifold. It takes effort and some mild contortion to shove himself upright with that leg still locked up and he isn't particularly steady on his feet. If he has to lean on anyone, it's going to be with bitter profanity and displeasure.