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Post by Rodimus Prime on Mar 23, 2009 23:02:34 GMT -5
Prime narrows his optics. He had managed to swallow down his own temper, tuck away his own hot-headedness... only to have that thrown in his face. He steps forward, about to snap at the racer, when Springer reminds him of what's the top priority here: the health of the patience.
Rodimus gives a single, sharp nod of his head. //You're right,// he radios Springer. To Swerve he says out loud, tone stern, commanding, and just a bit angry, "But there are things you haven't earned yet, either."
"Finish repairing Springer's leg," he now orders sternly. "Then come speak to me." With that, he turns to stride out of the room.
OOC: Out of thread unless stopped.
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Post by Swerve on Mar 24, 2009 20:16:05 GMT -5
"Don't need you tellin' me to finish what I fraggin' said I'd do," Swerve mutters, gears grinding as his fists clench. He wants to punch something. He needs to punch something before he ruptures a gasket.
But he gave his word. He said he'd take care of Springer's leg and smelt it all for rivets, that's what he'll do. It takes almost everything Swerve has to rein in the urge to pound on something until it breaks and pick up what will be Springer's leg plating instead, examining it with a scowl twisting up his face.
I stuck to the specs! He almost pitches the entire piece across the room. He shoves himself away from the workbench instead, mumbling a string of incoherent foul words and wincing before he stalks back to Springer's bedside, parts in hand. He sets them down where they'll be in reach – for him, not for Springer – then hunkers down to look over the latching clamps again. "You two buddies or something?" he grumbles, not really expecting an answer, and 'buddies' sounds like another curse. The fourth looks fine; they're all spec-accurate in size and fit. Maybe that one could use some tightening to slot it in proper, but–
Swerve stops dead and just stares at the offending part for a second or two, fists balled so tightly that the pins in his fingers creak protest. Then he does punch the table.
"Sprocket-stickin' slagger!"
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Post by Springer on Mar 25, 2009 21:13:18 GMT -5
"He says we are in his reality, though I don't have a Rodimus Prime where I come from." Springer says, shrugging.
Then he watches his medic staring at his work so far...and the rage growing inside.
And then Swerve punches the table, causing the Wrecker to flinch. "Whoa, whoa, calm down, guy. Rodimus is just doin' his job..."
Springer abstains from stating that Rodimus has a point. He wants to leave the medbay in better shape, not worse.
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Post by Perceptor on Mar 25, 2009 22:52:57 GMT -5
Perceptor's patient has quietly slipped out of Medical, leaving him at loose ends. Perceptor has also been shushed by Rodimus Prime. Neither occurrence really bothers Perceptor much, really, but seeing Swerve getting angrier and angrier is a bit... Hrmmm... discouraging.
"Yet," Perceptor replies to Springer absently as he strides over. Not that he really knows for certain, but it is the natural answer that comes to him when a Springer comments about not having a Rodimus Prime. Unlike Rodimus, who is different enough to obviously be Not His Rodimus, this Springer is similar enough that Perceptor forgets that they are two distinct individuals of differing origins.
"Not so much performing his function as Rodimus Prime is attempting to be of assistance. It is in his nature," Perceptor offers, although his tone, meant to be soothing, is probably a bit too... lecturing... for it to be really all that comforting. Especially for one who is already at the end of his rather short fuse. It is, alas, in Perceptor's nature; he doesn't mean to sound like a know-it-all. He just is one.
His soothing expression, however, pinches into a frown as he peers at the work Rodimus had been subtly criticizing. "Assistance which you clearly do not require," he observes in a curiously expressionless voice.
// Swerve? // Perceptor transmits to the racer privately, shamelessly abusing the fact that he'd discerned Swerve's frequency not long after the Velocitronian had arrived there. // You have had multiple distractions during your work. It is hardly surprising that those distractions prevented you from noticing the flaw in Springer's specifications. // Curiously, he does not seem to doubt that the flaw had been in the specifications, rather than in Swerve's execution of those specs.
He wouldn't. Not with the quality of the work he is seeing on what has been completed of the scratch-built limb thus far. He is, however, somewhat... frustrated and surprised and perhaps even a tiny little bit angry at this level of skill he is seeing here. He'd suspected from the work that Swerve had done after that disastrous battle at the energy plant that Swerve had significantly more skill than he had claimed, but this is evidence of a greater scope of ability than even Perceptor had guessed at.
And Swerve had never said anything about it, even when Autobots had been stacked in the shattered excuse for a medical ward like cord wood when they had been routed from the city. Surely he had to have heard over the radio how badly things had gone for everyone? Had Perceptor even guessed at this level of skill, he would have urged Xaaron to have that team recalled here.
What else could Swerve be hiding from them?
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Post by Swerve on Mar 25, 2009 23:38:45 GMT -5
"Shut up!" Swerve barks at Springer, then rounds on Perceptor, optics bright and ventilation kicking into full gear. That quick aside on the radio – on his private frequency – does nothing to improve his mood. "And nobody asked you!" He points the piece of armour in his hand threateningly. "Just – just lemme work!" He snatches up his tools like he expects someone to try taking them away, then knuckles down to fix the alignment on the latch so he can finish what he started and Springer can walk out of here.
He said he'd take care of it and nobody, not Rodimus or Perceptor, will make a liar out of him. He's completing the job even if he can't see straight.
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Post by Springer on Mar 26, 2009 0:18:40 GMT -5
Springer kinda just sinks back into his berth, much as he can. If he had a cap, he'd pull it over his face. He just wants it to be over with by now. Cranky medic is a bad thing to have.
So, he sends off a message to Perceptor. //Just let him work, I guess. Unless we have a big hose connected to mass amounts of coolant handy...//
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Post by Perceptor on Mar 26, 2009 0:39:13 GMT -5
// Coolant? // Perceptor asks, confused. // Well, I do have a specialty in molecular chemistry... I suppose that I could compound some coolant fluid, if you require some? I was not aware that those systems had been damaged, however. Are you suffering any additional damages that require repairs? //
Clueless scientist is clueless.
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Post by Swerve on Mar 26, 2009 10:20:33 GMT -5
The silence does brief but drastic wonders for Swerve's mood; now that he isn't being yammered at, he can focus. He starts relaxing, falling back into the work in front of him, and his fans spin down a little. The heat in his processors abates enough for the warnings to scale back to an omnipresent snippet in his peripheral field and his vision to clear up. That's all he needs.
Correcting the alignment of that clamp takes hardly a second, then he moves on, affixing the plating segments to their mounts and applying a drop or two of lubricant where it'll be needed before bolting it all securely in place. Some sealant to help close up the seams that'll open for transformation and then a little welding to secure the seams that shouldn't move, at least according to the specs he read, and Swerve is willing to call the job done. And not too badly.
"Try it out," he mutters when he finally backs away, less agitated now than just impatient to see the results, shooting Springer an expectant look.
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Post by Springer on Mar 27, 2009 13:55:51 GMT -5
//No, it's a joke, Perceptor. Talkin' about using it on the hothead.// he answers. //Though I guess it isn't needed, as he seems to be calming down.//
Which is a welcome event for the Wrecker, as is the completion of his leg. Springer slides off the berth, wobbling momentarily. "Hm..." He raises his leg up, flexing the joint, then taking it for a short walk around the room.
And just to show off a bit, a couple of kicks in the air.
"Well, that's a darn nice job, Swerve. Thanks!" he says, grinning widely.
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Post by Perceptor on Mar 28, 2009 1:52:08 GMT -5
Cue chagrin.
// ...oh. Ah, yes. Of course. //He knew that. Really.
// Well, the, ah... offer still stands. Should it become necessary, that is. // Yeah, chatty scientist will be shutting up now. Probably for the best.
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Post by Swerve on Mar 28, 2009 7:00:31 GMT -5
Swerve makes a face at both the praise and the gratitude Springer offers and shifts uneasily on his feet before he starts gathering up his tools and what's left of his supplies. He's satisfied to see his work is up to standard, but mostly, he's embarrassed.
"Quit thinnin' the mix," he mutters, faintly humble. "I said I'd handle it and I did." That's all.
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Post by Springer on Mar 29, 2009 0:08:52 GMT -5
//Ah, don't worry about it. Guess I need a little more practice on the humor myself.//
Springer stops his motions, and turns toward Sweve, resting hands on his hips. "And I just wanna express how much I liked it, nothin' else."
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Post by Perceptor on Mar 29, 2009 0:39:35 GMT -5
// Ah. Duly noted. //
"Yes. It is very good work," Perceptor adds. "I was not fully aware of the depth of your engineering skills, Swerve."
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Post by Swerve on Mar 29, 2009 2:40:49 GMT -5
The dimming of Swerve's optics is uneven, obscured by their high-sheen coating and by the way his facial seams furrow deeply with his confused and abashed scowl. He pointedly doesn't look at Springer while he closes his toolkit and shunts it back into subspace.
"Whatever," he mumbles. Perceptor gets a wary, shuttered sidelong look as Swerve turns to leave. What's he getting at? The racer's stare dims further in suspicion. "You never asked," he growls.
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Post by Springer on Mar 31, 2009 21:41:01 GMT -5
"Neither was I, Perc. I think I'm gonna go give it a test run by walking around this base we've got going down here. I haven't gotten to see it since I got bedridden."
Springer heads for the door, giving a wave. "Thanks again, Swerve."
---------- OOC: Out of Thread Unless Stopped.
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