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Post by Emirate Xaaron on Aug 8, 2011 21:19:05 GMT -5
Emirate Xaaron observes pointedly, "You speak of your life topside in the past tense. It's over. You speak of your life here," he gestures to the tear down, "in the same past tense."
He reaches out to try to clasp Swerve lightly on the forearm, well aware that Swerve's probably going to hit him or something.
Then Sentinel is... is... what the slag is wrong with that boy? Emirate Xaaron twitches and turns a venomous look at the snow plow, one optic twitching. If Swerve doesn't clock that lad, well...
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Post by Swerve on Aug 10, 2011 22:00:07 GMT -5
Rodimus poses a very good question, one that makes Swerve really have to think. He continues to watch the bedlam while his processors grind away, and that pinched, angry, longing look on his face alters. Those who aren't used to reading scowls like his might not see how the longing turns to a sort of numbness that isn't quite regret, but painfully close. His gaze hovers on Whiteline's remains, then drifts to the picked-over wreckage of others not fortunate enough to survive the race.
He survived. He survived whole lifetimes here. He survived – and he made it out again. Not the way he expected he would, but he's out. And… in a better place. A crazy place, but better. Mostly. Good enough that he realises he doesn't want to go back.
And that's what he's about to answer, finally, when Sentinel opens his big trap. Swerve visibly twitches; it's more of a full-body spasm, possibly knocking away Xaaron's hand, and that open look on his face darkens and shutters. The moment is gone.
Unless Sentinel dodges, soon, he's going to get a face full of Swerve's feet as the racer delivers a furious standing dropkick because a punch just isn't enough to convey his sheer outrage right now.
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Post by Rodimus Prime on Aug 12, 2011 10:00:13 GMT -5
"Sentinel!" Rodimus snaps, but then Swerve out and out attacks him, and Rodimus automatically moves to grab the racer and hold him back. If he had had time to stop and think about it, it's possible he wouldn't have done so, because, well, this is the training room. While Autobots attacking fellow Autobots is usually frowned upon, in this room it's more or less encouraged, and it's not like any damage taken here is real.
Still, his instincts, as always, are 'protect', and things happen so quickly that he only has time for an instinctual reaction at first.
Whether he succeeds in holding Swerve back or not, however, he does snap at the blue Prime, "How the blazes do you manage to be more tactless than I used to be! That takes some doing!"
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Post by Emirate Xaaron on Aug 14, 2011 19:50:41 GMT -5
Emirate Xaaron gives Rodimus Prime an irked looked. If Swerve didn't hit Sentinel Prime, Emirate Xaaron would have at least shaken him! Stupid Protector, being protective. He takes his hand back and crosses his arms, sighing. Eying Sentinel, Emirate Xaaron says pointedly, "You know, I was looking for volunteers to scrape the hull for barnacles..."
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Post by Sentinel Prime on Aug 16, 2011 19:37:08 GMT -5
A fleet foot connects with Sentinel Prime's face before he can do much of anything. He falls back on one knee, too well-trained to just topple over but too slow to avoid the blow in the first place. Sentinel Prime stares blankly forward, perhaps gobsmacked. He gingerly raises a hand to feel out the foot-shaped dent in his face.
Peripheral vision tells him that command doesn't approve. There's Rodimus grabbing at Swerve and calling him tactless. There's Xaaron looking at Sentinel Prime like Xaaron himself wants to slug him one. Breakaway looks disgusted, too.
Perhaps he should cut his losses while he's ahead. Still kneeling, Sentinel Prime cracks a smile and says brightly, "You know, you'd make a great driving instructor."
Because those who can't do, teach.
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Post by Swerve on Aug 16, 2011 22:44:35 GMT -5
While Swerve doesn't appreciate being grabbed out of midair, at least Rodimus keeps him from crashing to the ground. He thrashes for a moment in the larger Autobot's grasp anyway, pure reflex and anger.
"L'eggo of me, blast it!" he snarls, trying to pull himself free. "I'm done! Okay? I'm fraggin' done! Don't wanna see his diode-blowing face again for the rest of–" But then he stops and stares at Sentinel, naked incredulity written all over his pinched features. "–Say what?" he blurts out.
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Post by Rodimus Prime on Aug 17, 2011 7:55:50 GMT -5
Rodimus releases Swerve once it becomes apparent that the attack is over. "All right, all right," he murmurs. Besides, Sentinel's... compliment? ...seems to have thrown the racer off enough to take the fight out of him, anyway.
He looks back towards Sentinel, optics narrowed suspiciously.
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Post by Emirate Xaaron on Aug 17, 2011 21:31:13 GMT -5
Emirate Xaaron scowls at Sentinel and snaps, "You are not half so clever as you think you are."
Really, what is this? Is this like when, at a bar, someone will tell a jet that his wings look great... except for those canards, those canards make him look like he's compensating, to try to get the jet off-guard so he'll consent to later romantic advances?
Because if Sentinel is trying to flirt with Swerve, Emirate Xaaron wants to be some place else.
He starts to move to leave but slowly, in case Sentinel does something different but also spectacularly bad and worthy of more dents.
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Post by Sentinel Prime on Aug 18, 2011 19:20:50 GMT -5
"I said," Sentinel Prime repeats, not breaking his smile, "that you'd make a great driving instructor."
Because Swerve plays it safe in the slow lane.
He stands up and shakes himself out, feeling out the edges of the dent again. Good thing this isn't real. Sentinel Prime would hate for his handsome visage to be ruined. He says brightly, "Nice display," of utter lawlessness, "I'll see you around."
He plays off Emirate Xaaron's remark, pretending to ignore it, though it does hurt. Someday, Emirate Xaaron will be sorry!
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Post by Swerve on Aug 25, 2011 10:39:56 GMT -5
Swerve's expression gradually works its way from bemused to surly again, the corners of his mouth drawing down, optics narrowing. He doesn't even bother to shove Rodimus once the Prime lets him loose; he's too busy glaring at Sentinel.
"Only so I can punch you in the face some more," he mutters, openly, blatantly suspicious of the compliments after that crack about winning teams. Swerve, a teacher? He thinks about the teachers he's known over the years and it makes no sense. He's neither patient nor retired. Xaaron's a gauge-crackingly aggravating piece of slag, but he'd probably make a better teacher. Probably not driving, though, Swerve amends. Override would be a better choice than Swerve.
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Post by Rodimus Prime on Aug 25, 2011 19:45:53 GMT -5
Rodimus looks around, optics narrowed suspiciously. He's not entirely sure what all is being said here, but he's getting the definite impression that it's not all being said out loud. However, none of it seems particularly like an emergency, so finally he inclines his head towards Swerve. "Well, thanks for the, ah, demonstration," then turns to leave as well.
OOC: Wrap?
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Post by Emirate Xaaron on Aug 26, 2011 19:21:57 GMT -5
"Swerve, if you need me, you know my frequency. I have some schedules to adjust," Emirate Xaaron comments absently, and then he finishes making himself not there.
OOC: Out of thread.
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Post by Sentinel Prime on Sept 1, 2011 11:08:09 GMT -5
“Hah, hah, I’d like to see you try!” Sentinel Prime laughs at Swerve’s assertion of desire to punch Sentinel Prime in the face some more, seemingly affably enough. “Anyway, think about it, hot wheels. I’ll catch you around.” Now that the seeds of discord have been sown, it really is time to get out of here before Sentinel Prime reaps a harvest of boots to the head. - - - OOC: Out of thread unless stopped.
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Post by Swerve on Sept 5, 2011 20:25:27 GMT -5
Sentinel has invited a beating. Swerve casts about to make sure the others heard and saw it – but Xaaron's leaving and Rodimus has his back turned. And suddenly, this whole thing feels pointless and hollow, a waste of time and energy and stress. He's sort of sorry he bothered. Sorry and angry. He clenches and relaxes his fists, scowling at the pavement, jaw working in silent, seething rage. It probably won't be until everyone else has left that he explodes, viciously kicking away what looks suspiciously like a lost helmet. Before it stops rolling, he's transformed and away, gone down the tunnels.
He won't be leaving the sim room for a while.
OOC: Cool with a wrap.
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