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Post by Swerve on May 17, 2011 20:57:03 GMT -5
"I can calibrate things just fine on my own!" Swerve says quite testily. He lifts his only fully functioning hand to slap away the datapad Perceptor is practically shoving in his face – then stops. He peers first at the pad, then at its owner with narrowed optics.
Heat-resistant compounds? Ferroceramics? He dares a quick glance at the gibberish on the little screen – he's no chemist, so the formulae mean nothing to him – and looks up again, frowning.
Why? is the unspoken question.
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Post by Perceptor on May 17, 2011 21:29:36 GMT -5
"Well, of course," Perceptor replies; Swerve's skills are absolutely not under question here. "But I do have a spare set of hands?" he adds, holding up the appendages with a cheerful smile before tilting the pad for Swerve to see it better.
"Anyway, as you can see here," Perceptor explains, launching into a rapid-fire, detailed explanation of the chemistry behind the annotated formulae, pointing out how the various alterations to the compounds altered the heat tolerances with all the excitement of a child with a new toy.
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Post by Swerve on May 26, 2011 22:25:56 GMT -5
As Perceptor explains, Swerve's brow furrows more and more deeply. He can wrap his processors around the issue of increased heat tolerance, but the ongoing ramble of the actual, hard chemistry just elicits irritated grinding noises. The fact that it just keeps going doesn't help him.
"The short version," he growls, jaw clenched. "I've still got work to do."
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Post by Lynn Deanna Payne on May 28, 2011 20:28:26 GMT -5
Bambi thinks she hears annotated formulae coming from the lounge. Is someone getting their science on in there? She peeks her head around the door, which may be an 'oh slag' moment for some folks, because yes, the dromaeosaurs have figured out how to open the doors.
Bambi gives Perceptor and Swerve a hope look with those big blue optics. Science?
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Post by Perceptor on Jun 8, 2011 20:01:18 GMT -5
Perceptor breaks off suddenly when Swerve interrupts. "Oh. Eh-heh. My apologies, Swerve." Really, it had been asking quite a bit to have anyone sit through one of his, ah, detailed explanations.
The energon in his cube ripples. (He totally had a cube sitting nearby! No one noticed it? Animation error. Totally.)
Suddenly, Raptor! "Oh! Greetings and salutations, Bambi! I was just sharing the findings I have regarding the advanced ferroceramics I have been attempting to develop for Swerve." He reaches down to offer her the datapad with his notes.
"Essentially, the ceramic particles bind to the metallic particles to maximize cohesion, while also maximizing heat dispersal and resistance. The metallic particles, in turn, lend their resiliency to prevent the cast object from warping or otherwise altering shape."
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Post by Swerve on Jun 12, 2011 20:36:42 GMT -5
Briefly – very briefly – when Perceptor explains that he's been researching all this chemical gibberish for his sake, Swerve looks at the scientist with a nakedly amazed expression. The moment passes quickly, in part because he's beginning to feel very crowded with sensitive inner workings still exposed. He frowns and shifts on his seat, resettling his grip on the screwdriver.
"You can explain it to her some place else," he grumbles. "I'm trying to work here." Because all the talking isn't getting this done any sooner and talking is not helping.
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Post by Lynn Deanna Payne on Jun 14, 2011 8:13:00 GMT -5
Bambi gives Perceptor a very big set of optics as she listens along to his digression. Science! Her favourite prey!
However, Swerve is just about grumpy enough to be a Dinobot himself. Shrewdly, Bambi offers, "Me Bambi help you Swerve, and then him Perceptor can keep talking?"
Swerve gets done quicker with... whatever he's doing and then doesn't have to put up with them, Bambi gets to listen along to Science Hour, and Perceptor doesn't have to shut up. What's wrong with this plan?
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Post by Perceptor on Jun 17, 2011 14:46:46 GMT -5
Why wouldn't Perceptor be researching heat tolerant compounds for you, Swerve? It's 1) science, which is what Perceptor does, 2) something to assist a fellow Autobot, which is, again, what Perceptor does, and 3) metallurgy in particular, which is one of Perceptor's particular favorite subjects! It's a win-win-win situation, as far as he is concerned!
"That's an excellent suggestion, Bambi! I had just offered to assist as well, and with both of us, you can complete your fittings that much more quickly!"
Perceptor totally does not see any problem with this, and now Swerve has two sets of hopeful optics peering at him.
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Post by Swerve on Jun 19, 2011 9:18:06 GMT -5
Swerve has the look of someone who realises he's just driven himself into a corner, gaze shifting from Bambi to Perceptor and back again, optics wide, mouth slightly agape. His ventilation trips up a couple of notches as he repeats the cycle. One of them holding something in place is one thing. He could deal with that; he has once before already. He can't very well just not let them lend a hand since they're here and it'll get them out that much sooner.
His expression settles back to its customary scowl as he prepares to beat his way back out of the corner the way he always does.
"I'm not letting you two anywhere near my adjustments," he growls, ignoring the fact that Perceptor has already handled some of his repairs once or twice. "If you can hold something steady, then fine."
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Post by Lynn Deanna Payne on Jun 20, 2011 20:24:15 GMT -5
Bambi thrills at that 'backed into a corner' look of Swerve. Will the prey put up a fight? (A prospective doctor ought not to think of the patient as prey, but no one has had a talk with Bambi about medical ethics yet.)
She preens under Perceptor's praise and agrees readily, "Yes, me Bambi hold still! Treat you Swerve like Ming vase."
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Post by Perceptor on Jun 27, 2011 20:30:40 GMT -5
While Bambi gets a thrill from that look of faint panic, Perceptor goes the completely opposite direction, a look of crestfallen disappointment settling upon his features. Swerve just totally kicked his puppyMorphobot.
His expression clears a little, though, when Swerve amends that they can at least help him steady something, which is a step forward. Still... "If you change your mind, I am capable of calibrating to the fifth significant digit?"
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Post by Swerve on Jul 3, 2011 21:12:47 GMT -5
Reflex takes over in the absence of knowing what to do about his situation; Swerve scowls and seems to withdraw into himself, giving Bambi a narrow look.
"What'd you just call me?" he demands, turning as if to shield his dismembered arm from her with the rest of his body. Or possibly to reach for the nearest spanner and threaten her with it if she doesn't start talking sense. Then, without thinking about it, he looks to Perceptor with an angry and baffled expression, expecting… help.
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Post by Lynn Deanna Payne on Jul 8, 2011 19:08:31 GMT -5
"Ming vase," Bambi repeats and explains, "Porcelain container from China, 1368 to 1644 CE. More ceramics." Bambi snorts in amusement.
In other words, Bambi is saying she'll treat Swerve like he is a brittle piece of material.
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Post by Perceptor on Jul 14, 2011 20:47:12 GMT -5
"A precious and highly valuable piece of ornamental ceramics, actually," Perceptor offers placatingly to Swerve. "Requiring exquisite care and attention when handling."
"Not that your systems are purely ornamental, but it is an Earth colloquialism indicating extreme caution and gentle handling. Nothing more." In other words, Bambi's saying she'll be real careful, and yes, Perceptor is shooting a faintly quelling glance at her.
Please not to be riling up the hot-fueled racer/engineer when they're finally making some progress? Please?
Taking that look as the best invitation he may receive, Perceptor reaches over to pick up and offer Swerve what Perceptor hopes will be the next tool he will require, a pleasant, hopeful smile offered with the instrument.
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Post by Swerve on Jul 14, 2011 21:02:48 GMT -5
Somehow, the clarification doesn't make things that much better. Swerve scowls at first, ready to kick them both out even though he's missing an arm, at the suggestion that he's fragile and ornamental. He isn't even completely mollified when Perceptor amends, because that not purely sticks.
Nevertheless, he swallows the urge to start throwing punches – and a hard, bitter pill it is – and just shakes his head slightly at Perceptor.
"No," he grumbles, "that one." He points to the tool he needs, then glances aside to Bambi. "You wanna make yourself useful, come turn this forty-five degrees clockwise so I can make these adjustments. And keep it steady."
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