Snoopintific Method

[Brainstorm]

Takes place on Space III: Day 3 in Swerve's work area.

--

This work space, it does not belong to Brainstorm. However, Brainstorm is currently investigating it - moving things around to see what's being worked on, what's being put on the metaphorical backburner, that sort of thing. Really, he can only guess at which is which, but in his mind it's an educated guess because he thinks he totally knows this sort of thing.

The biggest thing he's found, though, is what looks like it might be an enhancement to a cooling system. Granted, 'biggest' is only metaphorical, as it is rather small compared to him. It just looks the most worked-on.

Brainstorm frowns at it, poking at it with a finger. "This little thing certainly won't be cooling very much," he says out loud, though mostly to himself. On the inside, though, he feels a bit accomplished. This means there's at least one 'bot around here that he doesn't have to worry about as competition in the weapons development department.

[Swerve]

That is indeed Swerve's work area. He hasn't formally met Brainstorm yet, though he's heard snippets in passing about the latest arrival – not enough to think he'd return from his turn on monitor duty to find a strange 'bot nosing around his work. Swerve lurks in the doorway for a second or two as his thoughts try to catch up with what he's seeing because what he's seeing shouldn't be. Irritation bubbles up immediately, boosted by the grinding of his processors.

"You'd better have a high-octane explanation for what you think you're doin' there," he barks, scowl pinching at his face and turning the seams around his eyes into deep furrows.

[Brainstorm]

The voice makes Brainstorm look up, but he doesn't look too bothered by being caught. In fact, he doesn't look bothered at all. He gives a small wave and raises up to full height, with his hands on his hips. "Just poking around to see what my fellow engineers have been doing. Get a lay of the land, so to speak."

He reaches over, grabbing one of the cooling units he was poking at before. "I think this one's into refrigerators. Tiny, tiny refrigerators."

[Swerve]

Swerve twitches when Brainstorm gets grabby. It's not the sort of violent, full-body twitch he's had in the past; it's a facial tic, mostly, an involuntary spasm of his hands. It could get worse if his handiwork is mishandled any further. He takes a few steps into the room but tries to maintain a little distance between him and the trespasser – enough that he can't tackle the other Autobot outright. He's not supposed to do that sort of thing, he reminds himself.

"Put. That. Down."

[Brainstorm]

That sort of reaction can only mean one thing. "Oh, it's you. You're the refrigerator guy!"

Brainstorm sets the thing down, all too amused with his own deduction. He's not as careful as he should be - it's not enough to damage anything, but it's obvious he has no respect for Swerve's belongings. "Is this all you're working on?"

[Swerve]

"You – you half-clocked piece of scrap tin!" Swerve practically howls as he shoves his way – maybe a little bit more violently than entirely necessary – past Brainstorm to check on the piece of machinery the nosy jet carelessly set aside. He scoops it up in much more cautious hands and pores it over like the secret to life is hidden somewhere in the wiring, checking for even the slightest hint of damage. There isn't any, he decides, as far as he can tell, which is good for Brainstorm. The calibrations on Swerve's cooling systems need to be precise. Painfully so.

Something Swerve intends to make clear as he rounds on Brainstorm.

"Don't you ever – not one more blasted time – touch anything on my work table!" he warns as he advances on Brainstorm as if to back him into the nearest table, wall, or other obstructing surface, jabbing threateningly at Brainstorm's chest with one finger for emphasis. "I don't give a bent bolt who you are!"