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Characters: @tarn, Open to Decepticons Location: A Bar on the Nemesis Content Warnings: Possible words and violence Plot Summary: Deciding to take a brief break from his work, Tarn visits one of the few bars aboard the Nemesis. Unfortunately, he's a bit of a workaholic.
Ah. This would do nicely. Tarn stood at the entrance to a room, a bar specifically. He had been wondering if the Nemesis were equipped with such leisurely accommodations. Well, he need wonder no more. It was empty aside from the service drone that attended the counter. Perfect. Tarn entered, pausing for a moment to consider where to sit.
The stools at the bar itself would most certainly accommodation him, but he doubted that they would be the most comfortable seating arrangement for someone of his size. To that end, tables were scattered about and booths lined the walls. He chose a booth in the corner, setting his datapad onto the table top, glancing over to the service drone, waving his hand.
It approached and chimed at him, displaying what drinks were available. Tarn frowned behind his mask. Not the selection that he was accustomed to, but he would suffice. “I’ll just take the highest grade you’ve available,” he muttered dismissively. The drone booped at him and scurried off to retrieve his refreshment.
Issuing a sigh, Tarn turned his attentions back to his datapad, flicking the screen with a digit idly. He’d come to get a change of venue from his quarters as well as take a brief break from reviewing and filing reports, yet here he was. Doing just that. Tarn supposed it couldn’t be helped. There was much to be done.
"Didn't think I'd find you here." The voice came from the entrance of the bar, from a femme, Lightspeed. She slowly made her way across the room, weaving between tables and drones and other Decepticons to get to the purple mech. She frowned as she reached him.
Working? In the bar? She chuckled softly, she would've taken it right out of his servos if she'd had the guts, but she didn't, and he seemed so focused. "Wasn't it you who told me breaks are good for the processor?" She teased lightly, sliding into the opposite seat in the booth and resting her elbows on the table.
"Don't you think with all your hard work has paid off? Enough for a break?" She smiled, leaning back in the seat and settling in comfortably. She caught one of the working drones attention and beckoned him over, "Would you be a dear and fetch me some high grade?" As he nodded and began to walk away, she returned her attention to Tarn. "So, how are you? Aside from work, I mean."
Nines peacefully dozed with his mask buried in hi left hand, the weight of his helm depending on his elbow that was pitted against the table. The mech's arm was locked in place, his visor offline while he napped away his off hours in the bar. All it had taken was for him to sit down, a low grade, and Nines had gone out. He had been sleeping as lightly as ever, only letting out the occasional his of ex-vents.
Nines a small alarm went off automatically within his helm, causing him to shutter to consciousness, his systems grumbling themselves back online. His audios picked up indistinguishable mumblings at first, but as he came two he was able to discern a familiar voice. Nines shook his helm as more functionalities came into play. He was now fully awake, and listened to the remainder of what Lightspeed had to say.
'-So, how are you? Aside from work, I mean.'
Mmm? Oh. She's not talking to me...[/font]Nines thought, before turning his helm to the small wall separating his booth and the next. Light speed had just pulled up a seat to whoever was over there. Nines wondered if he should do anything. Sitting back and eaves dropping was rude, but it was only a crime if he got caught. Nah. Nines thought. He wouldn't lower himself to those levels. He began to shuffle out of his booth, his legs carrying him a out of his chair, and right into the view of Tarn and Lightspeed. Nines paused as he saw the huge purple mech, with the distinctive mask that no other could carry. He'd read in the files. Nines's helm then turned to Lightspeed,
"Salutations Lightspeed." He stretched his good arm, "Never thought I'd see you around these parts. Who's this you're sitting with?" Nines glanced Tarn's way, his voice wasn't disrespectful at all. "Good friend of yours?"
At first, Tarn didn’t react to Lightspeed. He was too involved in reading and assumed that whatever hub-bub would not be directed at him. Other Decepticons tended to give the Decepticon Justice Division a rather wide berth, and that suited Tarn just as well as having company. Either way, he would make due.
However, as someone moved towards him who was decidedly not the service drone, his crimson optics flicked up from his datapad briefly. Ah, that femme who shared some of his tastes for the finer things. Lightspeed. He watched her as she slid into the opposite seat of the table, considering her for a moment.
“Indeed, I was,” Tarn said finally with a slight sigh, tapping the datapad lightly to turn its display off, “Perhaps I should heed my own advice.”
Lightspeed’s further arguments only cemented her case, but Tarn still glanced down to his datapad. “It hasn’t paid off quite yet. But it will in time,” he murmured softly. He looked to her. “But, yes, a brief respite would certainly be refreshing.”
The service drone returned with the drink that he had ordered prior to Lightspeed’s arrival. He didn’t deign to partake of it just yet, instead turning his optics to Lightspeed as he transformed his hand idly. “Oh, very well. And yourself?”
Immediately registering movement in the booth beside them, Tarn’s optics flicked to the newcomer. Hm. Tarn’s optics flickered briefly, glancing to Lightspeed.
"Perhaps," She nodded, silently victorious as he turned off his data pad. Apparently the good old guilt trip had worked on him. She was a little disappointed as he didn't face her directly, but still gazed down at his blank data screen, as if he could think of nothing else but that.
Typical workaholic, reminded her of herself, she in fact had to tear herself away from work with difficulty just to get here, and she wasn't about to watch him work the entire time. She felt bad for the mech, he seemed as if he didn't feel like he could take a break because his work seemingly hadn't 'paid off' as she'd so 'brilliantly' put it. "It may not seem like it has yet, but it will soon, as you said, it might take time."
The drone returned with her drink, which she took a sip of almost immediately. She needed something to distract her from the thoughts trying to drive her back to her lab. She sighed in relief as he decided to pry his optics away for a moment to look at her, taking another large swig. "I'm better, my lab is in top condition now that I've gotten work done on it. Finally. And don't worry, I asked for help moving things." She joked lightly, drumming her fingers on the table.
Nines. That was the voice that she heard. She smiled up at the vehicon mech, "Hey Nines," placing her servo briefly on his arm in a friendly gesture before it found its way back to her cube. He sounded like he'd just been offlined. "This is Tarn." She introduced him, then turned back to Tarn with a bright smile. "And Tarn, this is Nines."
Nines gave Tarn a small bow of him helm, “Ah, Tarn of the DJD. The pleasure’s all mine.” Nines mimicked Lightspeeds enthusiastically polite tone in his own likeness. Nines rose his helm, his thick ‘v’ shaped visor glowing towards Tarn, seizing the large mech up. Lightspeed had chosen an odd one for a friend. Like I’m not odd either. Lightspeed seemed rather pleased, contrary to how he’d found her at first. It was the strangest thing he’d ever seen, witnessing a femme appearing happy, even maybe a little excited at sitting across from the head of the DJD.
“Mind if I take a seat? Or am I interrupting something?” Nines asked, though he suspected he wasn’t. Their conversation indicated they’d just arrived. He shifted his weight from on foot to the other, as his systems grunting themselves into full operation. His mind was organizing itself from the shambles of recharge. Nines was quick to get his bearings, as he reached into his pack, considering his pipe. No, now wasn’t the time for that. As tempting as it was to play with his breathing functions, it just wouldn’t do.
He eyed the waiter from the corner of his visor for a moment, wondering if he should order something. Another low-grade sounded fine. He had some free time still, and could hang around for a little while longer.
“A pleasure,” Tarn uttered with a certain velvety warmth. So he and Lightspeed were acquainted? He wondered at what their relationship might be. They seemed rather close. “You two are…friends?” he asked, to be sure of how to approach the situation. Clarification was always nice.
At Nines’ question, however, Tarn remember his manners. He pushed himself back from where he had been vaguely slouching over the table to a more upright and welcoming position, sweeping his arm at the seats across from him. “By all means, do.” Tarn watched the mech shift from foot to foot idly. It didn’t seem like agitation or excitement. More akin to stretching.
“Lightspeed was just regaling me with tales of her lab,” he explained. His hand loosely clasped around his glass of energon, taking a delicate sip from the slit in his mask where his mouth was. He rested his head in his other hand, considering his two newfound compatriots from across the table with crimson optics.
Lightspeed quirked her optic ridge as Tarn asked them their relationship, swaying her hips in her seat she scooted over for Nines to have a place to sit. She nodded, confirming his question. "Yes, we're friends. Nines, come come." She patted the seat next to her before gazing back at Tarn who seemed confused if not thoughtful.
"Yeah, Nines, I finally fixed everything up and got things organized. Your own scrap pile is even a designated area now."
She chuckled softly, tipping back most of the energon in her glass. She uncrossed her legs and crossed the opposite one back over. She leaned forwards against the table, gazing at Tarn contently. "So, what's new with you."
"Indeed, we are friends." Nines answered Tarn, giving Lightspeed a small glance to confirm this. He took notice to how Tarn seemed strangely polite and warm. It was odd, and very unlike what tarn was reputed with. His attitude was nice anyway.
Nines slid into the position given to him by Lightspeed, his systems gave small creaks as he adjusted into his seat. His patchwork of a body continued to let it's thousands of cogs and gears turn, his cables relaxed and contracted as he sucked in a deep breath, providing his systems with a fresh wave of cool air. Primus why do I always feel so old. Nines wondered to himself, before answering Lightspeed,
"Ah, thanks for that. I just hope no one comes in before me and takes any of the good stuff out. I was fancying a new leg design earlier." To Nines, his words were a joke. Nobody touched the scrap bin accept him. That medic Knockout didn't like getting his servos dirty, and Lightspeed seemed to prefer something a little more cutting edge. Until Shockwave came into town, Nines had reason to believe the scrap-pile was all his.
Nines signaled the vehicon waiter for a round of low grades. He could use some more of those. Nines kept his audio tuned for Tarn, not leaving any awkward comments. Nines again had to resist the temptation of smoking his pipe. He so badly wanted it though. He squeezed his left shoulder with his right arm, as he let it crack some. Suddenly Nines felt a more satisfying connection with his appendage, as he wriggled his digits. Ah, that's the spot. Nines kept his visor fixed on the conversation, knowing it best to act social and all jolly for the time being.
Ah. Friends. Tarn knit his digits together and rested his elbows on the table, his head resting lightly on his knit digits. He listened to their chatting idly, considering the pair. He had the itch to return to his datapad, but he resisted it. It would be rude. Instead, he opted for another sip of his high grade, winching a little at it. High-grade for the front lines, perhaps, but Tarn was accustomed to far more refinement in his fuel.
Ah, well. He would make due. His optics flicked to Lightspeed as she leaned forward much like himself. He considered her question. “A great deal if I must be honest. I’m currently awaiting the arrival of the rest of my team. One of them has arrived, and if we must make due with just us, then we will.”
Swirling the energon in his glass idly, Tarn’s optics drifted, gazing to some far off place and time. “But soon, you and your friend will have to worry no more about traitors.”
Lightspeed smiled inwardly as the mech admitted to being friends, luckily, or else she'd have felt embarrassed and made a fool of herself. She chuckled, leaning back again, her engine whirring softly as she did so and relaxed herself. "A new leg design? Aren't you intricately done enough?" She teased Nines, a radiant grin gracing her features before she turned back to the other mech.
There were more DJD coming to the warship? Hopefully she didn't tick any of them off, though she doubted any of them were that bad. After all, Tarn was so.. charming. Different than what she'd expected, it caught her off guard. She tilted her helm as he didn't seem to finish his sentence, but she figured he had a reason.
The femme visibly relaxed, for someone like her, traitors were the last thing she needed. She was already in enough danger as it was, but now she felt safer with Tarn on board. "Thank you. It is almost difficult to say, but that means a lot for a frail femme like me."
Nines just chuckled at Light's comment. He didn't need to tell her that his unique design required plenty of weekly modifications. It was a small set back to having a chassis like his, but minor changes needed to made to it, adjustments so he could move and function properly or fit the needs of whatever objective he was fulfilling. His body was something quite pliable, despite the changes it needed. Nines frankly never minded any modifications. They were simply a away of life at this point.
His low grades soon arrived, just as his audios picked up on Tarn's comment, and then Light's response. Traitors? It was a predictable topic for a DJD member to bring up, but to be fair it was what Tarn lived and breathed. He glanced at Light,
Nines cooly sipped his high grade, "Traitors? Not my job to worry about them." Nines said simply, "But it's my hobby t' wonder about them. they're an interesting lot. They act on their emotions 'n' logic. It's always nice to see some people are willing to do something about their beliefs." Nines's shoulder plating briskly shifted as to make way for pipe-like vents, which blew in a flute like breath, "I always considered them to be machines of action. Or people who couldn't take the war from the Deception angle anymore, and then tried out a new one." His pipes whispered one last time before the plating arranged itself over them. Nines took another sip of his high grade thoughtfully.
"Everyone's looking for answers. Some are content with the ones they get," Nines reclined on the bench, "And others need something else, or more details." Nines's voice indicated little fear, but no disrespect. His manner was extremely neutral, as if he were talking merely about the weather. The vehicon medic's visor glimmered a patient light as he waited for his own ten cents worth to sink in.
Tarn nodded to Lightspeed, since she was incapable of seeing the smile behind his mask. Seeing her chat with Nines, she seemed very at peace and comfortable. But as he reassured her, she relaxed even more. Well, good. It was her respite as well. It wouldn’t do for Lightspeed to be on edge.
His optics flicking to Nines, he listened to the mech’s commentary on traitors. Only. His words were…very vaguely…worrisome. Tarn shifted slightly, stiffening as he turned the whole of his attention to Nines. “They are certainly free to explore different angles. From within the ranks of the Decepticons.”
“I fear deserters, traitors, and otherwise are simply too much of a liability to allow them to wander free.”
“There are better alternatives. Treachery is the excuse of those who are tired of looking for the answers,” he uttered. Sitting back in his seat with a dismissive wave, Tarn sipped his drink once more. “But enough of such matters.” His optics shifted back to Lightspeed, “I wouldn’t want to upset dear Lightspeed with more talk of treachery.”
Tilting his head slightly, he considered the pair. “Has anything of interest happened of late? Or perhaps some new and fresh rumors about the place? I fear I don’t have much of an audio for such things as absorbed as I get into my work.”
Taciturn wandered down the hallways, looking for its 'mentor'. Perhaps Tarn might be tired of it, but.. It heard Tarn's voice coming from bar, a place it rarely visited. Over energized Taciturn was a uncontrollable force to be reckoned with and unable to be reasoned with, so it avoided the place typically. However, it was the sound of other voices that peaked it's interest even further.
Company.. New bots.. A mech and a femme if the voices were anything to go by. The conversation it over heard.. It didn't like the mech who wasn't Tarn, and his confusing ideals. So, Taciturn shifted into invisibility, teleporting a few times until it was finally standing right behind the one called 'Nines'. "There is nothing worth one's time within the Autobots. They are aimless and confused. I should know this best.. Perhaps if you wonder so much, I can enlighten you." It hissed, slowly coming back into view behind Nines. The EM field of the ex-Autobot radiated something of undisernable intent.
It's face, devoid and incapable of emotion was a dead pan white sheet as it walked around to take a seat beside Tarn. A waiter approached and Taciturn bristled even more so for a moment. "Low grade." it murmured before focusing back upon the rest. Oh, gossip.. How interesting.. A subject far different and less violence provoking than the one before. It's EM field suddenly was stifled back against it, leaving it emotionless as it prepared to listen. There was no need in letting these.. Fools to know it's feelings about the matters. Except for Tarn. Tarn could ask and Taciturn would let him know everything.. For security purposes of course.
lyrics - otep - no color ● @.... ● oh how interesting..
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