Autobrand Party: The Teetotallers

[Swerve-3]

Swerve had his reservations about attending this party; he generally has his reservations about any gathering of Autobots, small or large, and this is quite a gathering, indeed. Emirate Xaaron seemed to find it safe enough to show up, though, and that's saying a lot.

The mood here is rather light for something Swerve gathers is a formal affair. He actually likes it. There's a nagging little sensation in one overtaxed subprocessor telling him he shouldn't let himself relax too much no matter how easy the atmosphere. He has to keep an eye on his leader, after all. Both of them are still being treated with wariness – they have assigned escorts, for Primus's sake. The distrust on one part incites further distrust on the other part and it's all turning into a messy pile-up. It's understandable, really, if Swerve remembers to think about it with a clear head. It's also horribly frustrating.

Thankfully, his mild, pleasant expression gives away none of the aggravation threatening his peace of mind. This Swerve at least understands dissemblance for the sake of tact and not spoiling things for the others. That he hasn't availed himself of the refreshments yet would seem strange only to someone who wasn't at the meeting with Rodimus Prime, of course, or who didn't already know him. He can't chance there being something in the energon, nor can he chance having too much even if it is safe. He can't risk the strain on his systems from processing fine fuel, or risk dulling his awareness.

Maybe just a little, later on. For now, he quietly mills about, keeping an eye on Emirate Xaaron – his Emirate Xaaron, though his gaze sporadically drifts to the other – from a respectful distance, near enough to intervene in case of trouble but far enough not to interfere with his leader's efforts at socialising. Call the constable staid as he slowly, just a bit awkwardly ambles around, hands neatly folded behind his back, but as far as he's concerned, he's simply adhering to his duty.

[Mirage]

Swerve is here, which means so is Mirage. Not that the dilettante would miss a social gathering anyway.
Mirage, however, has been finding escort duty rather tiresome. This Swerve is so tightly wound, so proper, that Mirage wonders if mayhap the constable's energon ration wasn't spiked with starch. There had been some interesting conversations to pass the time, but always Swerve seemed to be looking for his Emirate, worrying over him. It was enough to make one reject one's fuel.

And to top it off, Perceptor had broken out the high grade, and Mirage couldn't have more than a polite taste because he was "on duty." Perhaps if Swerve imbibed as well...but somehow, he did not seem the type.

"Well, we are here, and your Emirate appears to be doing well enough. Would you like refreshments, or no?"

[Swerve-3]

This prim and proper Swerve, so disinclined to take a drink but so careful to maintain his manners – especially here and now – may well be thoroughly screwed if someone suggests a toast.

"Hm?" He glances aside and slightly up to Mirage, then smiles apologetically. Most of the awkwardness that has pervaded the constable's usually mild demeanour is gone; Mirage doesn't outright seem such a bad fellow, really. The conversations, such as they've been, have been pretty nice so far. It's enough to put Swerve a little more at ease with his unfortunate guard, if nothing else. "Thank you kindly, but no," Swerve continues. "I'm fine. Maybe later. But please, don't let me get in the way if you'd like anything."

[Pee-Dee]

Pee-Dee has successfully investigated the boozahol! There is the normal high-grade, a special mix that she's probably going to investigate when things get a little more rocking, and fizzy-energon! The fizzy-energon just fascinates her, so she helps herself to a pair of glasses of it.

Hmm. Nothing has started hopping just yet, but she hasn't said hello to Not-Swerve before. Clearly, it's time to start.

And lo, Mirage and Swerve-3 are greeted by a cheery Junkion with a glass of fizzing energon in each hand. "Good morning!"

[Mirage]

"Hello, Pee-Dee," Mirage replies, "Enjoying yourself I see." The look on his face is teasing, but wary. Mirage still hasn't gotten used to the Junkion. He eyes the fizzing energon speculatively. Mirage never did get that excuse he wanted back when Swerve and Not-the-Xaaron showed up. One has to watch the bubbly, though; it tends to be so smooth and light. Everything is fine, until you try to stand, or take a step. Then you crash and burn. Hard.

Of course, Perceptor's blends may not be so potent. But better to be careful.

He nods at Swerve, "As you wish. I might try some later, myself, but I'm fine for now." Looking back at Pee-Dee, he asks, "How are the Perceptor's drinks, by the way?"

[Swerve-3]

Swerve draws tense for a brief instant at Pee-Dee's approach; he keeps reminding himself there are probably duplicates here for every Autobot he knows, but old habits die very hard. This Pee-Dee is brazenly cheerful, though, and her smile sunny, lacking the malicious edge he's accustomed to seeing. Quite the picture she presents, drink in either hand, grinning unabashedly at the constable and Mirage.

"Good day, Pee-Dee," answers Swerve, as pleasant as he ever is – if he's just a little stilted in his greeting, he does hope she'll forgive him – after nodding acknowledgement to Mirage. "I see you're enjoying the party so far." The idle thought drifts through that he has no idea yet what similarities and what differences there are between this Pee-Dee and the Pee-Dee who delights in tormenting Emirate Xaaron and picking at Swerve for his forthrightness. He'd much rather give her the benefit of the doubt, though; good faith, simple good faith.

[Pee-Dee]

Pee-Dee and the other Pee-Dee share at least one thing in common, though neither of them will probably ever realize it. They're both very, very happy about where they are now, and it shows in their actions and behavior.

"Who else would I be enjoying, Mirage?" Pee-Dee glances around at the rest of the party. "Nobody here really appeals. 'Cept- Anyways! The booze is pretty good. Haven't tried the fizzy stuff yet, but it's fizzy! The hard stuff that isn't high-grade'll probably have me chatting up a lamp post if I start drinking it now. You want one?"

The last is accompanied by waving an extra fizzy drink at the two mechs.

[Long Haul]

Long Haul mills around the rooftop, drink in his right hand. He nods to people as he passes. He doesn't smile. He has no mouth. But still, a general impression of good-cheer is given. Just now, he happens to be closing on Mirage and Pee-Dee and Swerve. Wait. Not their Swerve. Other-Swerve.

"Hey, folks. Pretty nice night for something like this, I s'pose." He pauses and looks around. "Lot cleaner than the sorta places I tended to do my drinkin' and partyin'."

[Mirage]

Mirage can't help it. One browridge goes up, then he smiles, a wide, winning smile full of good humor, and this, if nothing else, should convince Swerve that this Mirage is not the same as his own.

"No one up to your standards then, dear lady? I would be offended, except that I think anyone not able to put him or herself back together might be in dire peril were you to set your cap for them. Not that it wouldn't be worth it, I'm sure." It's teasing and flattering all at once, and Mirage is fairly certain he won't get slapped by Pee-Dee. If it were Arcee....well, he would have phrased things differently.

He does look rather longingly at that she's waving about, then sighs, "Not just yet, I'm afraid." Once he sees some member of command imbibing, Mirage will take that as a cue that even guards can indulge.

Mirage nods at Long Haul in greeting, sparing a quick glance at Swerve. The rooftop is large enough that they can still be social without being in the thick of things, but considering what Mirage understands of Swerve's Autobots...well, he could understand if the constable got nervous being cornered by a few of them.

[Swerve-3]

"Thank you kindly," Swerve murmurs, waving off Pee-Dee's offer of a drink with one hand, "but no. Maybe later." He casts about for a few seconds, retaking his measure of the party and the positions of the attendees. Everything remains light and easy, the overall mood relaxed. Everyone here seems to be happy enough, or something approaching it. Except perhaps his Emirate Xaaron over there, looking rather uneasy. This concerns Swerve, but he decides at length not to head over straight away; Emirate Xaaron is in no immediate danger and hasn't called for him just yet, so things mustn't be too bad.

It's with these thoughts distracting him that Swerve misses Long Haul's approach and is treated to the surprise of a burly Constructibot seemingly there without warning. He catches himself before he can stare, but only barely.

"Long Haul," he greets, and agrees, "a great night for a meet." He thinks better of commiserating on the location, though it isn't as if he hasn't spent his share of time in a few seedy oil houses here and there. That was another time, however, and another Swerve. One best left to the past.

Awkward pause.

"…Enjoying the party so far?"

[Holi]

Holi's just a little bit late. Or maybe he isn't; it doesn't sound like anything official has started just yet. So he didn't have to hurry quite so much, after all. He has more time to mingle now, though! Amble his way about the rooftop he does, not too sure what sort of conversation to strike up with whom or when. Everyone's just milling about, chatting while they wait, some with drinks and some without.

Speaking of drinks, he also has more time to investigate the refreshments. If he's old enough to serve under Star Saber's direct command and old enough to lead a patrol and old enough to have a girlfriend – no matter what his patrol mates like to say about him for it – he's certainly old enough to find the tipples intriguing. Especially the fizzy one. It's just more eye-catching.

Finally, Holi decides to fill a glass for himself and give it a taste. Light and just a little sweet. And the bubbles tickle! He giggles and takes another sip, then another, then happily gulps down the remainder. He'd like to try one of the other mixes later, but this will do for now. Holi then takes it upon himself to pry the top off a crate (and turn said crate over in the hopes no-one notices he's tampered with it) and bustle back to the refreshments table, lid in hand, so he can fill a few more glasses. Those glasses are quickly, carefully arranged on his makeshift tray and he shoulders the load with ease, if awkwardly.

Time to go make sure everyone has something to drink; he'll try to squirrel away some for Omega Supreme when he gets back to the table. This is a big formal party and toasts are made at big formal parties, right? Right. First targets… well, Long Haul and Pee-Dee are over there with Mirage and not-Swerve, and it looks like neither of the latter has a drink. Well, Holi can try to fix that!

"Hello!" he chirrups brightly at all four Autobots as he makes his way up to them, only occasionally teetering a little while trying to keep the glasses balanced. "I thought I'd bring the refreshments to you since you seem busy. Isn't this a nice party?" Go on, take a drink. You know you want to.

[Pee-Dee]

"Long Haul! Care for a drink?" Pee-Dee offers the extra glass of bubbly to the Constructibot before the others even get a chance to decline. Fortunately, they do decline. Well, fortunately for someone.

Mirage's flirting gets a chuckle and a slow uptick from the motorcycle-dame's engine. "Well, I've heard good things about taking it slow and easy, but I like to be able to cut loose when it comes down to things."

[Long Haul]

"Oh, erm, got one," Long Haul tells Pee-Dee, and holds up her glass to demonstrate. Then he takes a sip, leaving the others to figure out how he does so without a mouth.

To Holi, he says, "I s'pose it is. Doesn't seem to have gotten started much, really. And, y'know... we weren't able to size things right," he adds a bit sadly, a bit wistfully. To Swerve, he notes, "I'd prolly be enjoying it a bit more if everyone coulda made it."

He takes another sip in silence, then shakes his heard. "Erm... not that I wanna bring everyone else down or anything."

[Mirage]

"Thank you Holi, but...," Mirage pauses, he catches a glimpse of Emirate Xaaron with a glass. Not drinking just yet, though. "Come to think of it, there might be toasts or whatnot, to welcome Skyfire. It would be horribly impolite to be caught without, in that case." Mirage is rationalizing, of course. He takes two glasses from the tray, one for himself, and one for the ever-polite constable.

He starts to hand one to Swerve, then remembers the way he and his Emirate had reacted to Perceptor. And Perceptor was the only chemist/mixologist they had, a fact which wasn't exactly hidden. Mirage takes a sip from one of the glasses, then hands that glass to Swerve. It the best gesture he can think to make, as far as reassuring the constable goes.

The mix is quite nice, if a bit sweet for Mirage's taste. Definitely something that would sneak up on the drinker, though. He simply hold his own glass for now, waiting, as he tilts his head at Long Haul. The Constructibot seems a bit melancholy. "You did your best, Long Haul, I'm sure."

Mirage smiles at Pee-Dee again, letting something a bit more heated than just polite teasing slip into his gaze. He is not interested in the Junkion, really, but it has been awhile since he has been able to relax and flirt, "There are advantages to both styles, of course. And a little aggressiveness only makes things more interesting."

[Swerve-3]

"I see," Swerve murmurs noncommittally. Everyone? The rooftop is spacious enough for nearly every Autobot imaginable. Well, save Omega Supreme; his size would be hard to accommodate much of anywhere. Is that it, then?

The constable doesn't get more time to mull that over, however, with the arrival of Holi. A Holi more white than black, but as cheerful as Swerve would expect, and with drinks in tow. He gives the young Autobot a polite smile in return and is just about to refuse the fare yet again, only to be interrupted by Mirage. He's right, of course, Swerve realises even as he eyes the offered drink with a vague sense of unease; it is only polite. Swerve's concerns with the risk of overindulging himself are varied and nothing he can simply brush aside, but he also can't let himself be seen as any worse than he may already be seen.

"…Thank you," he says stiffly, taking the glass out of courtesy so Mirage isn't left mid-shift but not immediately sampling its contents. If he simply sips when a toast is made, he should be alright. Moderation, good constable… it's all in the moderation. And already, his first test as this world's Emirate Xaaron puts forth a speech and makes his toast. Swerve remains quiet, but downs a modest sip of his drink, not quite grimacing. He never did care for sweet things; that ought to make checking himself that much easier.