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Post by Perceptor on Apr 13, 2011 19:17:53 GMT -5
Perceptor frowns, his gaze darting to Drift's features for a moment as the white mech derides his own idea. He tucks that away for a moment as he concentrates on welding the last of the damage closed, thin sparks dropping into nothingness before they even reach his hands.
He resists demanding how Drift would know what efforts Perceptor went to or not; valid question or not, it would do nothing more than prick Drift's ire, and Perceptor is... trying hard to not pick another fight. Even if he doesn't feel worthy of what Drift is attempting to do. Maybe Drift is right; maybe he did do everything he could. Would Perceptor allow himself to see anything but that, though, even if it were not true?
He does not tolerate failure gracefully.
"Why some live, and yet others die... Why us, here, now?" he finally asks. "What unseen convergences have occurred to transport each of us from our respective origins to this place? What hand moves us about the various realities like pieces upon a gameboard? Fate? Science? Deities?"
Tiny sensors that monitor the once-damaged area are re-connected, Perceptor's fingertips smoothing over the repair to seek out any imperfections. "The day that my counterpart from your reality was nearly deactivated, why were you there, on that ship, rather than anywhere else in the universe?"
He swaps out the welder and tools for a small jar and daubs on the right color of paint to hide the fresh silver welds, smoothing it into place with the corner of a cloth. "We seek-- I seek to find explanation for the universe around me. To learn its structures down to the smallest particles, study its workings from sub-atomic to cosmic scales, and yet, even I cannot find an explanation for some events."
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Post by Drift on Apr 13, 2011 19:36:39 GMT -5
Look. Drift knows what he's good at, and science is not on that list. He's only good and Violence. And Violence and Science are not even close. They don't even really rhyme.
OH frag. They do. Okay, he's no poet, either.
He knows that facial expression all too well. Drift's not a great fan of failure himself.
"Just chance," Drift mutters. "Otherwise, what? We're all special? We're all 'chosen' or something?" No, that whole idea makes Drift really uncomfortable. He's not the 'special chosen by destiny' type. He wanted to help change the world. He wasn't...important in it. Just trying to do his part.
"If there was such a thing...," he twists away from the gentle brushes of the paint brush, "Pretty fraggin' cruel to lead a mech down the wrong path for so long." He had so much to atone for he wasn't sure he'd ever dig his way out.
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Post by Perceptor on Apr 13, 2011 20:09:25 GMT -5
"It would be nice to be thus, just once, wouldn't it?" Perceptor murmurs wistfully as he reaches to touch up that last spot of paint.
It's only as he is replacing the cap on the paint and dropping the brush into some solvent that his processor catches up with what he'd just said, and he coughs uncomfortably. He... hadn't meant to say that, actually.
And then he winces. "A very good point," he agrees.
Time for more joint maintenance, if Drift will still allow it. He saturates some more cloths and attempts to bring them to bear on Drift's right shoulder. "Will you ever allow yourself to succeed," he asks softly. It's a risk; he doesn't even know why he's pushing.
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Post by Drift on Apr 13, 2011 20:20:55 GMT -5
"No." Perceptor gets a cold look for that. Drift can barely manage the burden of what he's done wrong. The last thing he needs is to be smothered by the iron weight of some Mantle of Destiny.
Still, he could see how it might matter, to another mech. To someone who hadn't made a complete misguided wreck of most of his life, the fact of all this...suffering around him might be hard to explain. Drift had earned his. Another mech might find some solace in thinking it all had a point to it.
So he lets Perceptor and his cloth inside his guard. Let him do his part.
"Not...really sure there's a way," he murmurs, trying to fight his natural urge to shove the mech away. Decepticons aren't big on, you know, touching.
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Post by Perceptor on Apr 13, 2011 20:42:01 GMT -5
No, not so much a Mantle of Destiny, really. Just... special. Somehow.
That's stupid and self-pitying, and pointless maundering, though. And Perceptor is busy working the cloths around and as deep into Drift's shoulder as he can to continue dwelling in that pointless morass.
"There is," he murmurs, voice and hands gentle. "There will be, and I believe that you will find it." He maneuvers Drift's arm around to get at the entire shoulder housing, at least as much as Drift will allow him, and withdraws the scanner cord while he's got that arm lifted out of the way. "But I doubt that you will see it, until you have already achieved it."
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Post by Drift on Apr 13, 2011 20:49:15 GMT -5
There's an old combat saying, Perceptor--the one who stands out...gets a LOT of unwanted attention. Special gets you shot at.
Drift tenses as Perceptor just...grabs his arm and starts moving it around. To someone who isn't used to being touched, being moved around like a puppet or something is a bit...unusual. Especially an intimate touch--Perceptor's getting under the edges of the armor. It's halfway between threatening and...nice.
He grunts. Perceptor, with all due respect, doesn't know what he's talking about. No one does, none of these Autobots. "Easy to say," he says, quietly. "I've done...a lot wrong." He almost starts listing Autobots he's killed, just to prove the point.
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Post by Perceptor on Apr 13, 2011 21:12:35 GMT -5
Perceptor isn't used to being thought of as even potentially threatening, which is why he doesn't even think about maneuvering Drift around, except for the occasional glance to make sure that Drift isn't about to smack him or remove his permission. Mostly, he concentrates on working the last bits of gunk out as carefully, but quickly, as he can, before swapping out for the micro-sprayer.
Warm lubricant seeps through the shoulder servo and housing, sealing the joint again as well as soothing it. Perceptor tilts a thoughtful look up at Drift's face from where he is bent over a little awkwardly to observe as he rolls Drift's shoulder back down. "I will not insult your intelligence by either agreeing or attempting to disagree. It is the debt you have accepted, and only you can say how steep it is."
"But I do not believe that you are so foolish as to intentionally take upon yourself a task which cannot be fulfilled," he observes, and then softens it by adding, "Although, you did ask me about my work. Not even the other scientists ever do that." He grins faintly, inviting Drift to join in and laugh... at Perceptor himself.
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Post by Mirage on Apr 13, 2011 23:27:23 GMT -5
OOC: Mirage is not entering rotation. Enter and exit in one post ok'd by Drift and Perceptor's players.
From slightly behind Drift and just out of Perceptor's immediate optic range comes a sound much like someone clearing their throat.
"Pardon my intrusion, Perceptor, but you asked me to let you know how the repairs to the new cloaking system were holding up. I noticed a few error codes and thought they should be brought to your attention."
He moves a bit closer to Perceptor, hold out a datastick, and then drops said stick into the scientist's waiting hand. Drift might note that Mirage makes no sound when he moves. He might also wonder why Mirage didn't just use his radio.
"Nothing pressing, though. I'll check back with you later. Don't hurry on my account." Mirage smirks and cuts his optics toward the pretty new mech and then back to Perceptor, "But my, you do like your variety, don't you?"
Mirage just lets his fingers brush across Perceptor's before he turns and leaves.
OOC: posing with permission and the spy is gone!
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Post by Drift on Apr 14, 2011 10:12:56 GMT -5
Drift actually manages a grin--sort of--at Perceptor's shy joke before Mirage appears.
Drift goes so rigid that he begins vibrating. First that a mech has gotten this close to him and he didn't sense it (which will NOT happen again)* and second, that this mech just magically appeared right when he could not possibly be in a more exposed position: some other mech's hands buried under his systems, spilling his guts about his own angst.
He's more than willing to share his attitude and aggression, but the angst? Kind of personal.
So he would be thinking of things like, wow, why not the radio, you entirely inefficient Autobot (with bonus redundancy), except he's too busy flagellating himself for letting his guard down. He'll focus on Mirage, later.
He jerks back out of Perceptor's grasp, out of his range, confused, hurt, mortified and he can't think of anything to say, fighting the urge to spin on his heel and leave.
*and it doesn't--in canon Drift seems to be able to sense his Mirage, or at least not be surprised when he just...appears
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Post by Perceptor on Apr 14, 2011 20:38:01 GMT -5
Perceptor feels something in his core warm up at that elusive smile - he is... really quite handso--
Mirage's voice utterly derails Perceptor's thoughts. And everything that Perceptor has managed to accomplish thus far.
"But, what? That is not... but..." And any trace of coherency he might have managed.
Perceptor's mouth snaps shut with an audible sound as he stares at the now-empty doorway, his hand closing around that datastick almost hard enough to crack it. Drift had been relaxed, he'd smiled! And now...
Worse, Perceptor isn't even sure if Mirage had been teasing him, or if he'd actually thought that Perceptor was attempting, in his fumble-fingered way, to seduce Drift. It's really hard to tell with Mirage, sometimes. Oh, he could just... throttle the spy!
He is, for once, without anything to say. Instead, he sets the datastick aside, and calmly gathers up a fresh cloth, saturating it with the cleansing solvent, waiting to see what Drift decides... and trying not to hope.
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Post by Drift on Apr 15, 2011 8:21:44 GMT -5
Drift's mouth works, his optics nearly white with fury. So, here's Perceptor, lulling him into the entirely cliche False Sense of Security, and then flaunting his other...attachments, right in front of Drift. Played you for a fool, Drift thinks. His systems are heating enough that the lubricating oil Perceptor had been spraying on him begins to take on the tang of overheat.
My fault, he thinks. My fault. Should have known better. They're not like Wing here. None of them are to be trusted. And even Wing had...fought to earn his trust, and had won his trust but at the cost of his life.
Lesson, there, Drift.
"Think we're done, here," he says, voice hard. Take that as many levels as you want, Perceptor.
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Post by Perceptor on Apr 15, 2011 22:57:17 GMT -5
Perceptor cannot help it; he is disappointed beyond words. He wilts, his shoulders slumping in defeat as he twists that cloth between his hands. Whatever it is that Drift is thinking, he wants to fix it, refute it, make things go back to how they were before Mirage had interfered.
He isn't good enough with words, though. He has a flood of them piling up in his vocal processor, but he knows that none of them will help, no matter- or perhaps because of- how many of them he sets loose.
"I have not yet completed your arm joints, though," he offers weakly, quietly, knowing that the words are useless, but unable to hold them back anyway. He is so angry at Mirage right now, that he could throttle the spy if he were still present.
He looks down, concentrating on his hands, the cloth, something to keep his pleading gaze averted. "Thank you for allowing me to assist you. If...if you ever... If I can ever... assist you further, you..." He should shut up. "...have my frequency. I will notify Kup that you have been here."
Why does he feel that he's failed Drift so badly?
ooc: apologies for any typos; this was typed on my Droid, and autocomplete wants to drag my entries out behind the woodshed and molest them. Damn you, autocomplete!!!
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Post by Drift on Apr 18, 2011 21:13:05 GMT -5
If Perceptor hadn’t had some ulterior motive, Drift thinks, then Mirage’s little snide comment wouldn’t have gotten any traction. Oh no, Perceptor. You might be good at science, but Drift spent his entire life finding and reading manipulation and motive.
Variety. That’s all he was. Variety.
Fine. He could live with that. He knows for damn sure he won’t be making this mistake again. His mouth twists into a sneer as Perceptor…gives in. “Suddenly we don’t need to do this for Kup’s little report, huh?” You were so insistent on it, before, Perceptor. He balls his fists. “How much of it was just you jerking me around, then?”
Answer carefully, Perceptor: Drift has a history of responding with violence when he’s been made to feel like a fool.
((OOC not really here))
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Post by Perceptor on Apr 19, 2011 19:26:04 GMT -5
Drift is too used to dealing with less-than-honest individuals; Mirage's snide little comment got "traction" because there was no ulterior motive. If the remark had not been baseless, then it would have gotten much more excited stammering and dissembling.
Perceptor is reliably known as a fairly horrible liar, unless it really counts, and even then... it's a crap shoot.
"The intake medical exam is to ensure that the new arrival is in good health and condition, and that there are no deleterious addenda to his or her systems," Perceptor explains tightly, a little confused as to the source of this new freshet of anger. "You required the exam, while the additional maintenance was, strictly speaking, not necessary yet, but will become more vital the longer you delay such--"
It suddenly hits Perceptor right between the eyes like a pulse cannon to his processor what Drift is implying, especially in light of Mirage's little remark.
"How.... dare.... you!" he demands, his voice dangerously soft and very, very cold. Heedless of the danger, of the ex-Decepticon's temper, of those blades that are far-too-close at hand, Perceptor advances on Drift, his optics flaring almost white with fury.
"I at no time stated that the additional maintenance was required, merely that your systems were in poor condition and would benefit from additional care," he hisses, stabbing Drift in the chest with one fingertip. " You chose to remain for those services, maintenance, which was the only service I offered to you."
"I would never attempt to take advantage of a patient in my care in such a manner, EVER, and for you to even imply as much..." He's nearly vibrating with anger now. The temper, the rudeness, the antagonism that he has put up with in the past day, and now to be accused of that? Not to mention being thought to be so desperate for companionship that he would fling himself at the first warm chassis that presented itself.
No, actually, that doesn't even register on the face of his anger. It's all for being thought to be so duplicitous, so manipulative. So selfish.
"Get. Out."
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Post by Drift on Apr 19, 2011 21:51:49 GMT -5
((ooc: still not here but I have guilt about hanging threads. Percypushing with player's permission.))
Drift is angry because he stupidly let his guard down, and even more stupidly thought, well...never mind what he thought. Unsurprisingly, it was stupid.
Last time you let yourself enjoy anything, Drift.
His optics follow Perceptor's finger as it jabs into his chassis, nearly denting the edge of his forced air intake. Perceptor's display of anger doesn't scare him. He's seen worse, and Perceptor isn't even carrying a weapon.
He snatches at the finger jabbing his chassis, twisting it up and around, looking Perceptor in the optic. Oh yes, Perceptor. Could break your finger right now. He wants the larger mech to know how easily Drift could hurt him, and that Drift is managing--barely--to control himself from doing it.
He shoves Perceptor away from him, optics white with fury. "Find someone else to do my maintenance," he says, voice cold and dry. He whips toward the door, pausing at the threshold for a long moment, weighing what he wants to do. His head turns, slowly. "Sorry I implied we were friends," he says, finally, acidly. "Won't make that mistake again."
Friends. He has none. He doesn't need any.
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