|
Post by Swerve on Aug 25, 2011 11:06:38 GMT -5
The hard landing was expected, really; Swerve didn't quite expect it to be that bad. He buries his face in one palm again and grimaces.
"You'd better not be dead, kid!" he shouts even as he makes his way over. Why is he even trying to teach anybody? He's as good at imparting wisdom as he is at throwing Grimlock.
|
|
|
Post by Sentinel Prime on Aug 25, 2011 18:08:36 GMT -5
Sentinel Prime exceeds expectations! ...by failing harder than is logically possible. Not dead at all, he snarls back, "I'm not a kid!" Sentinel Prime tends to think of himself as older than he actually is, and he really has no idea just how old Swerve is.
"I'm just... ramp impaired." If a truck can sulk, this truck is sulking. Earth had stupid ramps like this, too. Okay, so maybe he only ended up on the stupid ramp because he ran over the road sign instead of reading it. That could happen again!
|
|
|
Post by Swerve on Sept 1, 2011 8:28:44 GMT -5
"Yeah?" Swerve snaps back, circling Sentinel to take in the damage on this round. "When you quit acting like one, I'll believe it." He frowns; there's nothing obvious that he can see, but he'd be a thrice-scrapped pile of parts by now if he discounted internal injuries. "What'd you do to yourself?" he asks even as he crouches to get a look at Sentinel's undercarriage, resting one hand flat on a quarter panel to steady himself.
|
|
|
Post by Sentinel Prime on Sept 1, 2011 11:12:57 GMT -5
If a snow plow can look bashful, this one does now. Hey, don't look down there! Nevermind that Swerve is a medical professional.
It's his suspension and alignment, though.
Sentinel Prime sulks, "I landed, er... the ground hit me when I landed." He's not going to say he landed wrong; of course it is the ground's fault.
|
|
|
Post by Swerve on Sept 5, 2011 21:50:52 GMT -5
"That's 'cause your landing was slagging lousy," Swerve pronounces as he stands, oblivious to Sentinel's abashment. "Your suspension looks like a mess. I dunno without turning you over for a better look or running a diagnostic what else you've screwed up." He makes a show of dusting off his hands. "We're done for now anyway," he adds, stepping away. He needs to figure out how to make this work. If he can.
He dismisses Sentinel with a loose wave of one hand.
"Computer, turn this blasted thing off," he grumbles. Issuing voice commands is still awkward for him.
OOC: Timeskip?
|
|
|
Post by Sentinel Prime on Sept 7, 2011 20:20:26 GMT -5
OOC: All right. Timeskip.- - - After some time, some time away reflecting (and reflecting on how good he looks in a mirror), and some more practise... it finally happens. Sentinel Prime lands without breaking anything! And he keeps on going... and nearly slides into a K-rail. His brakes screech rather piteously, but he manages to stop in time. Sentinel Prime swears, "Slag-licking electric lava!" His fear right now is that Swerve's going to be on his case about the ding in his track time over that stop, so he shifts into reverse to back away from the K-rail enough so that he can get going again. Only as he's driving away does it hit him that he actually made that jump.
|
|
|
Post by Swerve on Sept 12, 2011 17:15:31 GMT -5
Honestly, Swerve's too surprised – and perhaps just the tiniest bit impressed, though he won't volunteer that information – that Sentinel stuck the landing to be terrifically annoyed about the time loss.
"Not bad. Lost a couple seconds, but not bad," he says mostly to himself in a low, speculative rumble. A little louder, he adds, "It's about slaggin' time you got that landing. Good going." He checks the clock again and shrugs. "Now let's see you do it without going loose at the end."
|
|
|
Post by Sentinel Prime on Sept 12, 2011 18:46:14 GMT -5
The good thing about Swerve, the thing that Sentinel Prime will never, ever admit that he secretly appreciates, is that Swerve is sparing with praise and immediately focuses on the next thing to correct. If Swerve lavished Sentinel Prime with praise, Sentinel Prime would just spend the whole blasted time preening, and nothing would be accomplished. Still, Sentinel Prime groans, and he, well, he whines, "I never slipped when I had treads!"
There it is.
Still, he's starting his second lap and heading for that jump again!
|
|
|
Post by Swerve on Sept 12, 2011 19:08:52 GMT -5
"Well," Swerve calls back, definitely sounding peeved this time, "you ain't got treads now so quit whining about 'em and work with what you've got!" He leans back, arms crossed, and glowers at the blue truck speeding – for a relative definition of speeding – round the track.
At least Sentinel has a solid work ethic. Swerve has to give him that.
|
|
|
Post by Sentinel Prime on Sept 12, 2011 21:42:36 GMT -5
"But they were awesome. They made me look rugged and..." ...and Swerve probably doesn't care what Sentinel Prime looks like.
And slag, slag, slag, there's the jump again! For a moment, Sentinel Prime's mind shuts down, and he just can't think.
Then he lands, and he's driving away - there's a skid - and his thoughts snap back. His brakes squeal, and there he is, losing seconds again as he tries not to run into the K-rail... but a few less seconds than he lost last time.
|
|
|
Post by Swerve on Sept 15, 2011 22:01:27 GMT -5
There was a time Swerve was big, and tough, and slow like Sentinel. He might, he thinks, thinking about the truck-bot's dimensions, have been bigger. And there were many reasons he abandoned that whole build concept.
Not that he ever had treads. Not that he ever will have treads. What a miserable way to get around.
"Focus!" he snaps when Sentinel skids on landing. He punches a nearby pole out of proxy frustration with how close Sentinel was to nailing the jump.
|
|
|
Post by Sentinel Prime on Sept 16, 2011 22:34:57 GMT -5
Swerve is just begging to be body-swapped into a tank, thinking like that.
Sentinel Prime snaps back, "How am I supposed to focus when I have a hundred different things I have to remember? Don't land too hard, don't slip, don't run into a - ah-aahh!"
Oh slag, that was close, he almost ran over some spikes. He needs to pay more attention to what he's doing and... focus. Sentinel Prime hates it when other people are right.
|
|
|
Post by Swerve on Sept 19, 2011 21:19:26 GMT -5
If Swerve wakes up in a tank body, he'll just have to rip off his own treads and re-engineer everything into wheel-bearing axles so he can be a sweet futuristic APC instead of a tank. And don't think he wouldn't.
Not that he's thinking about that right now; he's wondering how hard it can really be to handle driving. It comes so naturally to him – and more, he's grown so accustomed to adapting himself to changes in mass, in weight distribution, in aerodynamics, in wheelbase, that he has trouble wrapping his processors around finding it troublesome. Clearly, however, Sentinel does have trouble with it, and this is utterly baffling.
"Bad landings are just a result of screwing up earlier!" he tries to explain. "Don't worry about that when you're at the other slagging end of the track! When you're turning, you blasted well focus on the turn!"
|
|
|
Post by Sentinel Prime on Sept 21, 2011 18:58:06 GMT -5
"Take things one at a time? But by the time I get to the one thing, the next thing is coming up, and if I'm still focusing on the first thing, the second thing is going to nail me," natters career paranoid, Sentinel Prime. Speaking of, is that a crate in the middle of the road coming up?
He just barely clips it, distracted with his own jabber, and then Sentinel Prime cusses some more. "Oh, solder me sideways..."
|
|
|
Post by Swerve on Sept 27, 2011 20:27:24 GMT -5
Swerve sees no reason Sentinel can't think as fast as the racer does. Then again, Swerve generally has to take things one at a time, lest he overload his processors and have a circuit-cooking fit, so being able to chain thoughts together rapidly works for him. Maybe, he thinks, it doesn't work for Sentinel if his processors are that sluggish.
"Fine!" Swerve grumps loudly, fed up with his own inadequacies at imparting advice. "Do it however you make it work, then!" Before Swerve gets on the track and starts physically correcting Sentinel's driving. He'd have to go so blasted slowly.
|
|