Yield No Ground

indie Terminus from idw transformers, as written by Ocean

[xxconcedonullixx]

"Hey, hey Megs, my youngest made way to.much fragging candy and-"

Waterlily paused, looking at the mech and tilting her helm. Her armor ruffling and almost immedatly on edge. She hadn't seen this mech before. A new... what was the fragging word? Worshiper for Rung? Whatever it was.

"You ain't Megs."

Another one of Megatron's friends, then. He couldn't say 'little' friends, anymore which only made him a little sad.

Megatron used to come stomping in, dragging some poor sparkling with him and introducing them as his new friend- he'd been so small and lively, then. He'd grown into someone a little quieter and thoughtful, but.

Well. Another time.

"I'm not Megatron, no. His carrier, Terminus. Pleasure ta meetcha...?"

[springingfromnothing]

"Hey. You gonna lurk on the edges all day or you gonna come on over? I CAN see ya."

" I wasn't trying to hide." Springers voice rolls over the ground with its rumble. Rotors twitching as he slowly cocks his helm. Rolling up to his pedes from where he'd been resting. Shaking off the dust with a flap of his armor.

It was too hot.

So he'd been enjoying a dust nap. The oddly colored metal 'soil' soaking up the heat of his frame. Which led to him observing the grey mech puttering around.

[xxconcedonullixx]

"Well, come on then, wash up. You got time t'lay around, ta got workin' servos ta help." Terminus didn't seem to be bothered by it much, if at all. In fact, he seemed chuffed. "Workin' servoes make dinner taste better, after all. Come on, come on."

It was hot- best cure for that was a cold drink.

Mainly made of fruit from the wastes, chopped and mashed and added into solvent, with a bit of that newfangled fizzy stuff added to it.

"I even brought ya a drink!"

[springingfromnothing]

Springers nasal ridge wrinkles. Lay about? Now wait a klik.

Grumbling as he shakes himself like a big beast. More dust pluming off as he stalks closer towards the other. Chuffing with a deep vent. Licking his fangs as the sweet cold scent hits him.

Hm.

Hmmm.

He hasn't tried that. He can smell it and it doesn't smell like anything he knows. Therefore, new drink? Rotors spreading a bit. Optics flicking between the drink and the mech. Clearly calculating what he's going to tolerate. He's not objecting to work.

But-

" Don't call me a lay about. I don't live here, I don't interfere in other mechanics business. But sure old timer. You want some heavy steel you've got it."

[xxconcedonullixx]

"Oh, well! Excuse me, then, I've been learned! Not a lay about, got it." He didn't seem put off by being... scolded, perhaps? If anything, he seemed mildly amused by it, optic ridge raised.

Older timer! He tucked his thumb into the 'belt' on his hips, and held out the drink a little farther. "Don't really need heavy steel, but you look like ya got workin' servos. I could definitely use some workin' servos, right about now. You up fer a lil kitchen work?"

He was making sure there was enough, 'course. Unicronian Hunger wasn't like anything he'd ever had before, and there WERE four of them, technically. And then all these other faces that had been showing up...

Terminus cast a critical gaze over THIS particular new face. "...you look like you fuel a lot. You throw down?"

[springingfromnothing]

Springer accepts the cup.

Sniffing around the edge before his glossa dips into the mixture. It's sweet- sour- mineral dense; it's sharp and refreshing. His chemo receptors don't detect anything he can't handle. So he takes a long swig before huffing in amusement himself.

" Heavy Steel just means Manual Labor work. I'm big, heavy, solid- but you want me on mess duty? Sure. I know my way around a fuel set up." Optics flickering. Amused as he pops a cart from subspace. He's polite enough to not activate it. Just helps to have in his denta while interacting with an unknown.

" Might be the first time I've been called thick to my faceplate though. If by throw down you mean fight? Yeah- something like that. Desi is Springer."

[xxconcedonullixx]

Can't blame the kid for bein' wary. These are different times, but you should probably always be wary of a stranger handing you a cup of somethin' weird. Either way, Terminus beamed when Springer took a long drink. "Good?"

He knew what Heavy Steel meant, but he let this... Springer, wasn't it? Springer tell him, anyhow.

"Good, good. I'm one mech- sure, I can handle it on my own, but it goes faster when you got someone else to help, huh?" Turning, he beckoned with a jerk of his helm. "Sink in there- wash yer servos. Oh- I'm Terminus, by the way."

[springingfromnothing]

" Different." Hedging, not wanting enthusiasm to give away too much. Springer hefts the tankard, because it can't be called anything else," I'm not familiar with the base flavor. You added a pretty unique set of mineral additives too."

Stepping up to trail behind the other. Only to stop cold.

Terminus.

His field, what little there was, pulls in tight to his frame. Voice dropping an octave as he murmurs a predators warning rumbles," You uh. You wanna pass that Des by me again?"

Springer knows for sure this drink wasn't adulterated in a way to harm. Yet he's stopped shy of the door. Gaze intense, locked on Terminus with slightly blown optical reticle. Like he can't decide between following or swinging.

[xxconcedonullixx]

"That's a Wasteland Citrine Fruit. Your chop it up, crush it and then added everything, juice, fruit, to some solvent with some sweetened energon. I added a bit of that fizzy stuff they started making. Inventive, that!"

Springer paused. He did, too, quizzically, and turned to look at him.

That... was not the look of someone who'd just met him.

That was the look of someone who had, and didn't particularly like him.

Terminus thought he'd remember meeting a green mech like this, though. Rotor frames weren't popular back when, and his particular shade of green wasn't, either. "Do we know each other, son?" His brow furrowed thoughtfully. "I think I'd remember a Springer, memory ain't that bad."

And for what it was worth, he was pretty sure he'd remember if he'd pissed anyone off recently. He usually did it on purpose. "Don't tell me someone else happens ta look like me. Identity theft still a problem?"

[springingfromnothing]

His nasal ridge flares.

A burst of steam curls from his lips past the cart. He vents in heavy- frame swelling with it. Then outwards in a dust and steam cloud. He shakes himself hard enough he rattles.

Then it's like a storm rolling away. Leaving a calmer quiet. He doesn't look fully like that mech. There's a few similarities besides the Desi. This one though- there's smile lines in his derma. He's still got hazard stripes even if they're dated and fades.

He also doesn't smell like lies and something oily stuck to the back of his intake.

" ...Nah. Think it's just a case of doppelganger syndrome. Sorry 'bout that. The mech I was thinking of would rather poison me than gimme a drink. Not to mention he sounds like a wrench aft. Acts likes he's better 'n everyone because he can enunciate big words prettily."

Ducking on habit as he steps through the threshold," Where can I wash up again?" He downs the tankard easily. Grinning as he lifts the empty mug," Cause I sure as hell want another one of these!"

[xxconcedonullixx]

He waited. Mechs these days were big, heavy. Terminus wasn't anything to sniff at, himself, being a deep level miner with armor rated to withstand hotter levels and rock falls, but.

Well, he worried, was all. Some of these kids had armor like all they knew was war. Wasn't good fer 'em, nosiree.

So he waited, to see what kind of move the kid was going to pull first. Like staring down someone who was used to throwing a preemptive first punch before you could even finish the thought connecting wanting to hit him.

The moment passed. Terminus vented quietly.

"Sounds like an aft. Met plenty o'those in my time, too. If he's as bad as poisonin' ya though, can't blame ya fer thinkin' about swingin' on me. Glad ya didn't, though, you look like you could rock me somethin' fierce."

And then Galvatron would get upset, and it'd be a whole thing. Knowing how to de-escalate was less about his own safety and more about the other mech's at this point. Unicronians could be relentless.

He smiled easy as you please though, at Springer. No harm no foul. "Wash room to the left- and here, lemme see that, again, I'll show ya how t'make it when ya come out."

[springingfromnothing]

If only Terminus knew.

As it is Springer laughs easy. Grin is boyish and warm as he passes off his mug," Careful. Might steal your secrets mech. I enjoy a good drink. Maybe I'll pulp a couple'a customs out for you to taste test later."

Free with sharing when other mechs are.

He slips into the washroom. Excited by the prospect of something new. He's humming to himself as he pushes the solvent tap. Eagerly pushing his elbows and arms under the hot solvent flow.

Grumbling delightedly as he licks his lips.

[xxconcedonullixx]

Springer was smiling- that was good. But Terminus' grin slipped, just a little. Primus and Unicron both, they'd been asleep for a long time. How long had the planet been at war for? Newbuilds, brought into war time, raised during it?

Or worse, not allowed to grow? The idea made him cold.

He couldn't fix that. He had to snap himself out of the mindset before he tried. He couldn't fix war.

But he could be there. Like he used to be. He could be there with a war meal and his time. His optics drifted to said unfinished meal- yeah. He could do that.

[springingfromnothing]

Springer had used a spare cloth he'd found to wipe off his legs, face and shoulders. His arms and servos are cleaner than the rest. But over all he'd clearly made the effort to respect the older mech's hab and requests. He rumbles happily as he swings back into the fuel prep area," Alright. Where you want me then?"

Propping his fists on his hips. Regarding the set up curiously. Though when he spots Terminus' knives he makes a complicated expression,"...Where'd you get those things mech?"

They looked ancient for one.

One is clearly a rough cast. The other looks like it's made by knapping. The rest are just...hmmm. The Smith in him is mildly offended by their existence.

[xxconcedonullixx]

"You know how to mince? Got some tubers and other things that need finely chopped- small, but not a paste, iffen ya would." Whatever mood Terminus had found himself in, he wasn't going to allow it to color his interactions with Springer.

Poor thing had probably already been through the wringer.

He just had to be careful not to come across as incredibly patronizing while he was trying to be gentle. Whoo boy.

"Hm? Those are old- older than you, certainly," he teased, maybe a touch cheeky. "They were brand new when we all went down fer that sleep. Came up and they were like that."

[springingfromnothing]

" ...You uh. You want em sharpened? I could do that. Hell- I could get you new ones." Hes got a small stock of blades. None of them for cooking but Terminus would t know they were fresh forged. He steps up, setting a tuber in his workspace and picking the least junky knife of the bunch.

Just feeling it in his hold is **gross** Dear Primus and Unicrons Abyss he might gag. Feeling and listening to the thing masquerading as a blade does make his armor clamp tight with disgust-

" Nope- nopenopenope-" That is a menace. He delicately sets it far from himself. Then pulls a basic defense knife from subspace. That-! Cuts through the tuber like mercury. Ahhh~ good good.

He hums. Setting to work on his mince.

[xxconcedonullixx]

Terminus opened his mouth, then hesitated as Springer picked one of his knives up, brown furrowing in befuddlement at the abject distress the feel of it seemed to put the mech through. ...

Alright. He didn't like them. Everyone was a critic.

Shrugging a little, he lifted another knife up to inspect it. Yeah, alright, so they were a bit old, he hadn't been out for new ones, yet. ..maybe he was a little attached to them, so sue him. "They were still layin' out when we woke up, is all. Felt bad about it, so I jist.. kept 'em. You can sharpen 'em if ya want."

They'd probably be much better in Springer's servos. Looked like he took good care of his things.

[springingfromnothing]

Hes not just a critic.

He's /the/ Critic when it comes to knives thank you. Grumbling as he makes quick work of the tuber with efficient flicks of the blade in servo," I'll sharpen 'em then. Becsuse it's easier to get hurt with a dull knife than a sharp one. Dull knives rip the slag out of protomesh and ding armor in a way that rusts easy."

He scrapes the tubers into a container bear himself.

" Sharp knife cuts heal better. And damaged armor is less likely to rust or give you Verdigris."

He says it with a certain confidence. Casually too- as he rinses his blade off," Need anything else?"

[xxconcedonullixx]

"Uh huh." Not dismissive- interested. Optic ridges raised, he leaned against the counter a little, arms crossing over his counter. "So I oughta be real careful with a duller knife, then, got it. Any advice on the proper way to sharpen 'em so I don't have ta hound you for it each time I need to? Be good to be self sufficient."

As for anything else, well. "We're makin' a nice roast, today. ..or, a couple of 'em, really. I know we Unicronians throw down ta eat- which is what I meant earlier, by the way, son. Assume if I say 'throw down', I mean 'eat a lot'. Anyhow, between us and you and Megatron, Rung, Optimus," he started listening mechs off his digits, brow furrowin'.

"Well. Depending on who shows up, I'll say. Yer here, so yer fer certain eatin', right?"

[springingfromnothing]

"Hey. You gonna lurk on the edges all day or you gonna come on over? I CAN see ya."

" I wasn't trying to hide." Springers voice rolls over the ground with its rumble. Rotors twitching as he slowly cocks his helm. Rolling up to his pedes from where he'd been resting. Shaking off the dust with a flap of his armor.

It was too hot.

So he'd been enjoying a dust nap. The oddly colored metal 'soil' soaking up the heat of his frame. Which led to him observing the grey mech puttering around.

[xxconcedonullixx]

"Well, come on then, wash up. You got time t'lay around, ta got workin' servos ta help." Terminus didn't seem to be bothered by it much, if at all. In fact, he seemed chuffed. "Workin' servoes make dinner taste better, after all. Come on, come on."

It was hot- best cure for that was a cold drink.

Mainly made of fruit from the wastes, chopped and mashed and added into solvent, with a bit of that newfangled fizzy stuff added to it.

"I even brought ya a drink!"

[springingfromnothing]

Springers nasal ridge wrinkles. Lay about? Now wait a klik.

Grumbling as he shakes himself like a big beast. More dust pluming off as he stalks closer towards the other. Chuffing with a deep vent. Licking his fangs as the sweet cold scent hits him.

Hm.

Hmmm.

He hasn't tried that. He can smell it and it doesn't smell like anything he knows. Therefore, new drink? Rotors spreading a bit. Optics flicking between the drink and the mech. Clearly calculating what he's going to tolerate. He's not objecting to work.

But-

" Don't call me a lay about. I don't live here, I don't interfere in other mechanics business. But sure old timer. You want some heavy steel you've got it."

[xxconcedonullixx]

"Oh, well! Excuse me, then, I've been learned! Not a lay about, got it." He didn't seem put off by being... scolded, perhaps? If anything, he seemed mildly amused by it, optic ridge raised.

Older timer! He tucked his thumb into the 'belt' on his hips, and held out the drink a little farther. "Don't really need heavy steel, but you look like ya got workin' servos. I could definitely use some workin' servos, right about now. You up fer a lil kitchen work?"

He was making sure there was enough, 'course. Unicronian Hunger wasn't like anything he'd ever had before, and there WERE four of them, technically. And then all these other faces that had been showing up...

Terminus cast a critical gaze over THIS particular new face. "...you look like you fuel a lot. You throw down?"

[springingfromnothing]

Springer accepts the cup.

Sniffing around the edge before his glossa dips into the mixture. It's sweet- sour- mineral dense; it's sharp and refreshing. His chemo receptors don't detect anything he can't handle. So he takes a long swig before huffing in amusement himself.

" Heavy Steel just means Manual Labor work. I'm big, heavy, solid- but you want me on mess duty? Sure. I know my way around a fuel set up." Optics flickering. Amused as he pops a cart from subspace. He's polite enough to not activate it. Just helps to have in his denta while interacting with an unknown.

" Might be the first time I've been called thick to my faceplate though. If by throw down you mean fight? Yeah- something like that. Desi is Springer."

[xxconcedonullixx]

Can't blame the kid for bein' wary. These are different times, but you should probably always be wary of a stranger handing you a cup of somethin' weird. Either way, Terminus beamed when Springer took a long drink. "Good?"

He knew what Heavy Steel meant, but he let this... Springer, wasn't it? Springer tell him, anyhow.

"Good, good. I'm one mech- sure, I can handle it on my own, but it goes faster when you got someone else to help, huh?" Turning, he beckoned with a jerk of his helm. "Sink in there- wash yer servos. Oh- I'm Terminus, by the way."

[springingfromnothing]

" Different." Hedging, not wanting enthusiasm to give away too much. Springer hefts the tankard, because it can't be called anything else," I'm not familiar with the base flavor. You added a pretty unique set of mineral additives too."

Stepping up to trail behind the other. Only to stop cold.

Terminus.

His field, what little there was, pulls in tight to his frame. Voice dropping an octave as he murmurs a predators warning rumbles," You uh. You wanna pass that Des by me again?"

Springer knows for sure this drink wasn't adulterated in a way to harm. Yet he's stopped shy of the door. Gaze intense, locked on Terminus with slightly blown optical reticle. Like he can't decide between following or swinging.

[xxconcedonullixx]

"That's a Wasteland Citrine Fruit. Your chop it up, crush it and then added everything, juice, fruit, to some solvent with some sweetened energon. I added a bit of that fizzy stuff they started making. Inventive, that!"

Springer paused. He did, too, quizzically, and turned to look at him.

That... was not the look of someone who'd just met him.

That was the look of someone who had, and didn't particularly like him.

Terminus thought he'd remember meeting a green mech like this, though. Rotor frames weren't popular back when, and his particular shade of green wasn't, either. "Do we know each other, son?" His brow furrowed thoughtfully. "I think I'd remember a Springer, memory ain't that bad."

And for what it was worth, he was pretty sure he'd remember if he'd pissed anyone off recently. He usually did it on purpose. "Don't tell me someone else happens ta look like me. Identity theft still a problem?"

[springingfromnothing]

His nasal ridge flares.

A burst of steam curls from his lips past the cart. He vents in heavy- frame swelling with it. Then outwards in a dust and steam cloud. He shakes himself hard enough he rattles.

Then it's like a storm rolling away. Leaving a calmer quiet. He doesn't look fully like that mech. There's a few similarities besides the Desi. This one though- there's smile lines in his derma. He's still got hazard stripes even if they're dated and fades.

He also doesn't smell like lies and something oily stuck to the back of his intake.

" ...Nah. Think it's just a case of doppelganger syndrome. Sorry 'bout that. The mech I was thinking of would rather poison me than gimme a drink. Not to mention he sounds like a wrench aft. Acts likes he's better 'n everyone because he can enunciate big words prettily."

Ducking on habit as he steps through the threshold," Where can I wash up again?" He downs the tankard easily. Grinning as he lifts the empty mug," Cause I sure as hell want another one of these!"

[xxconcedonullixx]

He waited. Mechs these days were big, heavy. Terminus wasn't anything to sniff at, himself, being a deep level miner with armor rated to withstand hotter levels and rock falls, but.

Well, he worried, was all. Some of these kids had armor like all they knew was war. Wasn't good fer 'em, nosiree.

So he waited, to see what kind of move the kid was going to pull first. Like staring down someone who was used to throwing a preemptive first punch before you could even finish the thought connecting wanting to hit him.

The moment passed. Terminus vented quietly.

"Sounds like an aft. Met plenty o'those in my time, too. If he's as bad as poisonin' ya though, can't blame ya fer thinkin' about swingin' on me. Glad ya didn't, though, you look like you could rock me somethin' fierce."

And then Galvatron would get upset, and it'd be a whole thing. Knowing how to de-escalate was less about his own safety and more about the other mech's at this point. Unicronians could be relentless.

He smiled easy as you please though, at Springer. No harm no foul. "Wash room to the left- and here, lemme see that, again, I'll show ya how t'make it when ya come out."

[springingfromnothing]

If only Terminus knew.

As it is Springer laughs easy. Grin is boyish and warm as he passes off his mug," Careful. Might steal your secrets mech. I enjoy a good drink. Maybe I'll pulp a couple'a customs out for you to taste test later."

Free with sharing when other mechs are.

He slips into the washroom. Excited by the prospect of something new. He's humming to himself as he pushes the solvent tap. Eagerly pushing his elbows and arms under the hot solvent flow.

Grumbling delightedly as he licks his lips.

[xxconcedonullixx]

Springer was smiling- that was good. But Terminus' grin slipped, just a little. Primus and Unicron both, they'd been asleep for a long time. How long had the planet been at war for? Newbuilds, brought into war time, raised during it?

Or worse, not allowed to grow? The idea made him cold.

He couldn't fix that. He had to snap himself out of the mindset before he tried. He couldn't fix war.

But he could be there. Like he used to be. He could be there with a war meal and his time. His optics drifted to said unfinished meal- yeah. He could do that.

[springingfromnothing]

Springer had used a spare cloth he'd found to wipe off his legs, face and shoulders. His arms and servos are cleaner than the rest. But over all he'd clearly made the effort to respect the older mech's hab and requests. He rumbles happily as he swings back into the fuel prep area," Alright. Where you want me then?"

Propping his fists on his hips. Regarding the set up curiously. Though when he spots Terminus' knives he makes a complicated expression,"...Where'd you get those things mech?"

They looked ancient for one.

One is clearly a rough cast. The other looks like it's made by knapping. The rest are just...hmmm. The Smith in him is mildly offended by their existence.

[xxconcedonullixx]

"You know how to mince? Got some tubers and other things that need finely chopped- small, but not a paste, iffen ya would." Whatever mood Terminus had found himself in, he wasn't going to allow it to color his interactions with Springer.

Poor thing had probably already been through the wringer.

He just had to be careful not to come across as incredibly patronizing while he was trying to be gentle. Whoo boy.

"Hm? Those are old- older than you, certainly," he teased, maybe a touch cheeky. "They were brand new when we all went down fer that sleep. Came up and they were like that."

[springingfromnothing]

" ...You uh. You want em sharpened? I could do that. Hell- I could get you new ones." Hes got a small stock of blades. None of them for cooking but Terminus would t know they were fresh forged. He steps up, setting a tuber in his workspace and picking the least junky knife of the bunch.

Just feeling it in his hold is **gross** Dear Primus and Unicrons Abyss he might gag. Feeling and listening to the thing masquerading as a blade does make his armor clamp tight with disgust-

" Nope- nopenopenope-" That is a menace. He delicately sets it far from himself. Then pulls a basic defense knife from subspace. That-! Cuts through the tuber like mercury. Ahhh~ good good.

He hums. Setting to work on his mince.

[xxconcedonullixx]

Terminus opened his mouth, then hesitated as Springer picked one of his knives up, brown furrowing in befuddlement at the abject distress the feel of it seemed to put the mech through. ...

Alright. He didn't like them. Everyone was a critic.

Shrugging a little, he lifted another knife up to inspect it. Yeah, alright, so they were a bit old, he hadn't been out for new ones, yet. ..maybe he was a little attached to them, so sue him. "They were still layin' out when we woke up, is all. Felt bad about it, so I jist.. kept 'em. You can sharpen 'em if ya want."

They'd probably be much better in Springer's servos. Looked like he took good care of his things.

[springingfromnothing]

"Hey. You gonna lurk on the edges all day or you gonna come on over? I CAN see ya."

" I wasn't trying to hide." Springers voice rolls over the ground with its rumble. Rotors twitching as he slowly cocks his helm. Rolling up to his pedes from where he'd been resting. Shaking off the dust with a flap of his armor.

It was too hot.

So he'd been enjoying a dust nap. The oddly colored metal 'soil' soaking up the heat of his frame. Which led to him observing the grey mech puttering around.

[xxconcedonullixx]

"Well, come on then, wash up. You got time t'lay around, ta got workin' servos ta help." Terminus didn't seem to be bothered by it much, if at all. In fact, he seemed chuffed. "Workin' servoes make dinner taste better, after all. Come on, come on."

It was hot- best cure for that was a cold drink.

Mainly made of fruit from the wastes, chopped and mashed and added into solvent, with a bit of that newfangled fizzy stuff added to it.

"I even brought ya a drink!"

[springingfromnothing]

Springers nasal ridge wrinkles. Lay about? Now wait a klik.

Grumbling as he shakes himself like a big beast. More dust pluming off as he stalks closer towards the other. Chuffing with a deep vent. Licking his fangs as the sweet cold scent hits him.

Hm.

Hmmm.

He hasn't tried that. He can smell it and it doesn't smell like anything he knows. Therefore, new drink? Rotors spreading a bit. Optics flicking between the drink and the mech. Clearly calculating what he's going to tolerate. He's not objecting to work.

But-

" Don't call me a lay about. I don't live here, I don't interfere in other mechanics business. But sure old timer. You want some heavy steel you've got it."

[xxconcedonullixx]

"Oh, well! Excuse me, then, I've been learned! Not a lay about, got it." He didn't seem put off by being... scolded, perhaps? If anything, he seemed mildly amused by it, optic ridge raised.

Older timer! He tucked his thumb into the 'belt' on his hips, and held out the drink a little farther. "Don't really need heavy steel, but you look like ya got workin' servos. I could definitely use some workin' servos, right about now. You up fer a lil kitchen work?"

He was making sure there was enough, 'course. Unicronian Hunger wasn't like anything he'd ever had before, and there WERE four of them, technically. And then all these other faces that had been showing up...

Terminus cast a critical gaze over THIS particular new face. "...you look like you fuel a lot. You throw down?"

[springingfromnothing]

Springer accepts the cup.

Sniffing around the edge before his glossa dips into the mixture. It's sweet- sour- mineral dense; it's sharp and refreshing. His chemo receptors don't detect anything he can't handle. So he takes a long swig before huffing in amusement himself.

" Heavy Steel just means Manual Labor work. I'm big, heavy, solid- but you want me on mess duty? Sure. I know my way around a fuel set up." Optics flickering. Amused as he pops a cart from subspace. He's polite enough to not activate it. Just helps to have in his denta while interacting with an unknown.

" Might be the first time I've been called thick to my faceplate though. If by throw down you mean fight? Yeah- something like that. Desi is Springer."

[xxconcedonullixx]

Can't blame the kid for bein' wary. These are different times, but you should probably always be wary of a stranger handing you a cup of somethin' weird. Either way, Terminus beamed when Springer took a long drink. "Good?"

He knew what Heavy Steel meant, but he let this... Springer, wasn't it? Springer tell him, anyhow.

"Good, good. I'm one mech- sure, I can handle it on my own, but it goes faster when you got someone else to help, huh?" Turning, he beckoned with a jerk of his helm. "Sink in there- wash yer servos. Oh- I'm Terminus, by the way."

[springingfromnothing]

" Different." Hedging, not wanting enthusiasm to give away too much. Springer hefts the tankard, because it can't be called anything else," I'm not familiar with the base flavor. You added a pretty unique set of mineral additives too."

Stepping up to trail behind the other. Only to stop cold.

Terminus.

His field, what little there was, pulls in tight to his frame. Voice dropping an octave as he murmurs a predators warning rumbles," You uh. You wanna pass that Des by me again?"

Springer knows for sure this drink wasn't adulterated in a way to harm. Yet he's stopped shy of the door. Gaze intense, locked on Terminus with slightly blown optical reticle. Like he can't decide between following or swinging.

[xxconcedonullixx]

"That's a Wasteland Citrine Fruit. Your chop it up, crush it and then added everything, juice, fruit, to some solvent with some sweetened energon. I added a bit of that fizzy stuff they started making. Inventive, that!"

Springer paused. He did, too, quizzically, and turned to look at him.

That... was not the look of someone who'd just met him.

That was the look of someone who had, and didn't particularly like him.

Terminus thought he'd remember meeting a green mech like this, though. Rotor frames weren't popular back when, and his particular shade of green wasn't, either. "Do we know each other, son?" His brow furrowed thoughtfully. "I think I'd remember a Springer, memory ain't that bad."

And for what it was worth, he was pretty sure he'd remember if he'd pissed anyone off recently. He usually did it on purpose. "Don't tell me someone else happens ta look like me. Identity theft still a problem?"

[springingfromnothing]

His nasal ridge flares.

A burst of steam curls from his lips past the cart. He vents in heavy- frame swelling with it. Then outwards in a dust and steam cloud. He shakes himself hard enough he rattles.

Then it's like a storm rolling away. Leaving a calmer quiet. He doesn't look fully like that mech. There's a few similarities besides the Desi. This one though- there's smile lines in his derma. He's still got hazard stripes even if they're dated and fades.

He also doesn't smell like lies and something oily stuck to the back of his intake.

" ...Nah. Think it's just a case of doppelganger syndrome. Sorry 'bout that. The mech I was thinking of would rather poison me than gimme a drink. Not to mention he sounds like a wrench aft. Acts likes he's better 'n everyone because he can enunciate big words prettily."

Ducking on habit as he steps through the threshold," Where can I wash up again?" He downs the tankard easily. Grinning as he lifts the empty mug," Cause I sure as hell want another one of these!"

[xxconcedonullixx]

He waited. Mechs these days were big, heavy. Terminus wasn't anything to sniff at, himself, being a deep level miner with armor rated to withstand hotter levels and rock falls, but.

Well, he worried, was all. Some of these kids had armor like all they knew was war. Wasn't good fer 'em, nosiree.

So he waited, to see what kind of move the kid was going to pull first. Like staring down someone who was used to throwing a preemptive first punch before you could even finish the thought connecting wanting to hit him.

The moment passed. Terminus vented quietly.

"Sounds like an aft. Met plenty o'those in my time, too. If he's as bad as poisonin' ya though, can't blame ya fer thinkin' about swingin' on me. Glad ya didn't, though, you look like you could rock me somethin' fierce."

And then Galvatron would get upset, and it'd be a whole thing. Knowing how to de-escalate was less about his own safety and more about the other mech's at this point. Unicronians could be relentless.

He smiled easy as you please though, at Springer. No harm no foul. "Wash room to the left- and here, lemme see that, again, I'll show ya how t'make it when ya come out."

[springingfromnothing]

If only Terminus knew.

As it is Springer laughs easy. Grin is boyish and warm as he passes off his mug," Careful. Might steal your secrets mech. I enjoy a good drink. Maybe I'll pulp a couple'a customs out for you to taste test later."

Free with sharing when other mechs are.

He slips into the washroom. Excited by the prospect of something new. He's humming to himself as he pushes the solvent tap. Eagerly pushing his elbows and arms under the hot solvent flow.

Grumbling delightedly as he licks his lips.

[xxconcedonullixx]

Springer was smiling- that was good. But Terminus' grin slipped, just a little. Primus and Unicron both, they'd been asleep for a long time. How long had the planet been at war for? Newbuilds, brought into war time, raised during it?

Or worse, not allowed to grow? The idea made him cold.

He couldn't fix that. He had to snap himself out of the mindset before he tried. He couldn't fix war.

But he could be there. Like he used to be. He could be there with a war meal and his time. His optics drifted to said unfinished meal- yeah. He could do that.

[springingfromnothing]

Springer had used a spare cloth he'd found to wipe off his legs, face and shoulders. His arms and servos are cleaner than the rest. But over all he'd clearly made the effort to respect the older mech's hab and requests. He rumbles happily as he swings back into the fuel prep area," Alright. Where you want me then?"

Propping his fists on his hips. Regarding the set up curiously. Though when he spots Terminus' knives he makes a complicated expression,"...Where'd you get those things mech?"

They looked ancient for one.

One is clearly a rough cast. The other looks like it's made by knapping. The rest are just...hmmm. The Smith in him is mildly offended by their existence.

[xxconcedonullixx]

"You know how to mince? Got some tubers and other things that need finely chopped- small, but not a paste, iffen ya would." Whatever mood Terminus had found himself in, he wasn't going to allow it to color his interactions with Springer.

Poor thing had probably already been through the wringer.

He just had to be careful not to come across as incredibly patronizing while he was trying to be gentle. Whoo boy.

"Hm? Those are old- older than you, certainly," he teased, maybe a touch cheeky. "They were brand new when we all went down fer that sleep. Came up and they were like that."

[polyhexianchicken]

Whirl is staring hard, trying to figure out where he's seen that face before.

[xxconcedonullixx]

"You wanna take a picture, maybe, bub? Might last longer."

[polyhexianchicken]

"What the- who the hell even ARE you??"

[xxconcedonullixx]

Terminus tucked his thumbs into his belt and rocked back on the heels of his pedes.

"Terminus. Pleasure t'meet you? ..where is this?"

[springingfromnothing]

"Hey. You gonna lurk on the edges all day or you gonna come on over? I CAN see ya."

" I wasn't trying to hide." Springers voice rolls over the ground with its rumble. Rotors twitching as he slowly cocks his helm. Rolling up to his pedes from where he'd been resting. Shaking off the dust with a flap of his armor.

It was too hot.

So he'd been enjoying a dust nap. The oddly colored metal 'soil' soaking up the heat of his frame. Which led to him observing the grey mech puttering around.

[xxconcedonullixx]

"Well, come on then, wash up. You got time t'lay around, ta got workin' servos ta help." Terminus didn't seem to be bothered by it much, if at all. In fact, he seemed chuffed. "Workin' servoes make dinner taste better, after all. Come on, come on."

It was hot- best cure for that was a cold drink.

Mainly made of fruit from the wastes, chopped and mashed and added into solvent, with a bit of that newfangled fizzy stuff added to it.

"I even brought ya a drink!"

[springingfromnothing]

Springers nasal ridge wrinkles. Lay about? Now wait a klik.

Grumbling as he shakes himself like a big beast. More dust pluming off as he stalks closer towards the other. Chuffing with a deep vent. Licking his fangs as the sweet cold scent hits him.

Hm.

Hmmm.

He hasn't tried that. He can smell it and it doesn't smell like anything he knows. Therefore, new drink? Rotors spreading a bit. Optics flicking between the drink and the mech. Clearly calculating what he's going to tolerate. He's not objecting to work.

But-

" Don't call me a lay about. I don't live here, I don't interfere in other mechanics business. But sure old timer. You want some heavy steel you've got it."

[xxconcedonullixx]

"Oh, well! Excuse me, then, I've been learned! Not a lay about, got it." He didn't seem put off by being... scolded, perhaps? If anything, he seemed mildly amused by it, optic ridge raised.

Older timer! He tucked his thumb into the 'belt' on his hips, and held out the drink a little farther. "Don't really need heavy steel, but you look like ya got workin' servos. I could definitely use some workin' servos, right about now. You up fer a lil kitchen work?"

He was making sure there was enough, 'course. Unicronian Hunger wasn't like anything he'd ever had before, and there WERE four of them, technically. And then all these other faces that had been showing up...

Terminus cast a critical gaze over THIS particular new face. "...you look like you fuel a lot. You throw down?"

[springingfromnothing]

Springer accepts the cup.

Sniffing around the edge before his glossa dips into the mixture. It's sweet- sour- mineral dense; it's sharp and refreshing. His chemo receptors don't detect anything he can't handle. So he takes a long swig before huffing in amusement himself.

" Heavy Steel just means Manual Labor work. I'm big, heavy, solid- but you want me on mess duty? Sure. I know my way around a fuel set up." Optics flickering. Amused as he pops a cart from subspace. He's polite enough to not activate it. Just helps to have in his denta while interacting with an unknown.

" Might be the first time I've been called thick to my faceplate though. If by throw down you mean fight? Yeah- something like that. Desi is Springer."

[xxconcedonullixx]

Can't blame the kid for bein' wary. These are different times, but you should probably always be wary of a stranger handing you a cup of somethin' weird. Either way, Terminus beamed when Springer took a long drink. "Good?"

He knew what Heavy Steel meant, but he let this... Springer, wasn't it? Springer tell him, anyhow.

"Good, good. I'm one mech- sure, I can handle it on my own, but it goes faster when you got someone else to help, huh?" Turning, he beckoned with a jerk of his helm. "Sink in there- wash yer servos. Oh- I'm Terminus, by the way."

[springingfromnothing]

" Different." Hedging, not wanting enthusiasm to give away too much. Springer hefts the tankard, because it can't be called anything else," I'm not familiar with the base flavor. You added a pretty unique set of mineral additives too."

Stepping up to trail behind the other. Only to stop cold.

Terminus.

His field, what little there was, pulls in tight to his frame. Voice dropping an octave as he murmurs a predators warning rumbles," You uh. You wanna pass that Des by me again?"

Springer knows for sure this drink wasn't adulterated in a way to harm. Yet he's stopped shy of the door. Gaze intense, locked on Terminus with slightly blown optical reticle. Like he can't decide between following or swinging.

[xxconcedonullixx]

"That's a Wasteland Citrine Fruit. Your chop it up, crush it and then added everything, juice, fruit, to some solvent with some sweetened energon. I added a bit of that fizzy stuff they started making. Inventive, that!"

Springer paused. He did, too, quizzically, and turned to look at him.

That... was not the look of someone who'd just met him.

That was the look of someone who had, and didn't particularly like him.

Terminus thought he'd remember meeting a green mech like this, though. Rotor frames weren't popular back when, and his particular shade of green wasn't, either. "Do we know each other, son?" His brow furrowed thoughtfully. "I think I'd remember a Springer, memory ain't that bad."

And for what it was worth, he was pretty sure he'd remember if he'd pissed anyone off recently. He usually did it on purpose. "Don't tell me someone else happens ta look like me. Identity theft still a problem?"

[springingfromnothing]

His nasal ridge flares.

A burst of steam curls from his lips past the cart. He vents in heavy- frame swelling with it. Then outwards in a dust and steam cloud. He shakes himself hard enough he rattles.

Then it's like a storm rolling away. Leaving a calmer quiet. He doesn't look fully like that mech. There's a few similarities besides the Desi. This one though- there's smile lines in his derma. He's still got hazard stripes even if they're dated and fades.

He also doesn't smell like lies and something oily stuck to the back of his intake.

" ...Nah. Think it's just a case of doppelganger syndrome. Sorry 'bout that. The mech I was thinking of would rather poison me than gimme a drink. Not to mention he sounds like a wrench aft. Acts likes he's better 'n everyone because he can enunciate big words prettily."

Ducking on habit as he steps through the threshold," Where can I wash up again?" He downs the tankard easily. Grinning as he lifts the empty mug," Cause I sure as hell want another one of these!"

[xxconcedonullixx]

He waited. Mechs these days were big, heavy. Terminus wasn't anything to sniff at, himself, being a deep level miner with armor rated to withstand hotter levels and rock falls, but.

Well, he worried, was all. Some of these kids had armor like all they knew was war. Wasn't good fer 'em, nosiree.

So he waited, to see what kind of move the kid was going to pull first. Like staring down someone who was used to throwing a preemptive first punch before you could even finish the thought connecting wanting to hit him.

The moment passed. Terminus vented quietly.

"Sounds like an aft. Met plenty o'those in my time, too. If he's as bad as poisonin' ya though, can't blame ya fer thinkin' about swingin' on me. Glad ya didn't, though, you look like you could rock me somethin' fierce."

And then Galvatron would get upset, and it'd be a whole thing. Knowing how to de-escalate was less about his own safety and more about the other mech's at this point. Unicronians could be relentless.

He smiled easy as you please though, at Springer. No harm no foul. "Wash room to the left- and here, lemme see that, again, I'll show ya how t'make it when ya come out."

[springingfromnothing]

If only Terminus knew.

As it is Springer laughs easy. Grin is boyish and warm as he passes off his mug," Careful. Might steal your secrets mech. I enjoy a good drink. Maybe I'll pulp a couple'a customs out for you to taste test later."

Free with sharing when other mechs are.

He slips into the washroom. Excited by the prospect of something new. He's humming to himself as he pushes the solvent tap. Eagerly pushing his elbows and arms under the hot solvent flow.

Grumbling delightedly as he licks his lips.

[xxconcedonullixx]

Springer was smiling- that was good. But Terminus' grin slipped, just a little. Primus and Unicron both, they'd been asleep for a long time. How long had the planet been at war for? Newbuilds, brought into war time, raised during it?

Or worse, not allowed to grow? The idea made him cold.

He couldn't fix that. He had to snap himself out of the mindset before he tried. He couldn't fix war.

But he could be there. Like he used to be. He could be there with a war meal and his time. His optics drifted to said unfinished meal- yeah. He could do that.

[polyhexianchicken]

Whirl is staring hard, trying to figure out where he's seen that face before.

[xxconcedonullixx]

"You wanna take a picture, maybe, bub? Might last longer."

[springingfromnothing]

"Hey. You gonna lurk on the edges all day or you gonna come on over? I CAN see ya."

" I wasn't trying to hide." Springers voice rolls over the ground with its rumble. Rotors twitching as he slowly cocks his helm. Rolling up to his pedes from where he'd been resting. Shaking off the dust with a flap of his armor.

It was too hot.

So he'd been enjoying a dust nap. The oddly colored metal 'soil' soaking up the heat of his frame. Which led to him observing the grey mech puttering around.

[xxconcedonullixx]

"Well, come on then, wash up. You got time t'lay around, ta got workin' servos ta help." Terminus didn't seem to be bothered by it much, if at all. In fact, he seemed chuffed. "Workin' servoes make dinner taste better, after all. Come on, come on."

It was hot- best cure for that was a cold drink.

Mainly made of fruit from the wastes, chopped and mashed and added into solvent, with a bit of that newfangled fizzy stuff added to it.

"I even brought ya a drink!"

[springingfromnothing]

Springers nasal ridge wrinkles. Lay about? Now wait a klik.

Grumbling as he shakes himself like a big beast. More dust pluming off as he stalks closer towards the other. Chuffing with a deep vent. Licking his fangs as the sweet cold scent hits him.

Hm.

Hmmm.

He hasn't tried that. He can smell it and it doesn't smell like anything he knows. Therefore, new drink? Rotors spreading a bit. Optics flicking between the drink and the mech. Clearly calculating what he's going to tolerate. He's not objecting to work.

But-

" Don't call me a lay about. I don't live here, I don't interfere in other mechanics business. But sure old timer. You want some heavy steel you've got it."

[xxconcedonullixx]

"Oh, well! Excuse me, then, I've been learned! Not a lay about, got it." He didn't seem put off by being... scolded, perhaps? If anything, he seemed mildly amused by it, optic ridge raised.

Older timer! He tucked his thumb into the 'belt' on his hips, and held out the drink a little farther. "Don't really need heavy steel, but you look like ya got workin' servos. I could definitely use some workin' servos, right about now. You up fer a lil kitchen work?"

He was making sure there was enough, 'course. Unicronian Hunger wasn't like anything he'd ever had before, and there WERE four of them, technically. And then all these other faces that had been showing up...

Terminus cast a critical gaze over THIS particular new face. "...you look like you fuel a lot. You throw down?"

[springingfromnothing]

Springer accepts the cup.

Sniffing around the edge before his glossa dips into the mixture. It's sweet- sour- mineral dense; it's sharp and refreshing. His chemo receptors don't detect anything he can't handle. So he takes a long swig before huffing in amusement himself.

" Heavy Steel just means Manual Labor work. I'm big, heavy, solid- but you want me on mess duty? Sure. I know my way around a fuel set up." Optics flickering. Amused as he pops a cart from subspace. He's polite enough to not activate it. Just helps to have in his denta while interacting with an unknown.

" Might be the first time I've been called thick to my faceplate though. If by throw down you mean fight? Yeah- something like that. Desi is Springer."

[xxconcedonullixx]

Can't blame the kid for bein' wary. These are different times, but you should probably always be wary of a stranger handing you a cup of somethin' weird. Either way, Terminus beamed when Springer took a long drink. "Good?"

He knew what Heavy Steel meant, but he let this... Springer, wasn't it? Springer tell him, anyhow.

"Good, good. I'm one mech- sure, I can handle it on my own, but it goes faster when you got someone else to help, huh?" Turning, he beckoned with a jerk of his helm. "Sink in there- wash yer servos. Oh- I'm Terminus, by the way."

[springingfromnothing]

" Different." Hedging, not wanting enthusiasm to give away too much. Springer hefts the tankard, because it can't be called anything else," I'm not familiar with the base flavor. You added a pretty unique set of mineral additives too."

Stepping up to trail behind the other. Only to stop cold.

Terminus.

His field, what little there was, pulls in tight to his frame. Voice dropping an octave as he murmurs a predators warning rumbles," You uh. You wanna pass that Des by me again?"

Springer knows for sure this drink wasn't adulterated in a way to harm. Yet he's stopped shy of the door. Gaze intense, locked on Terminus with slightly blown optical reticle. Like he can't decide between following or swinging.

[xxconcedonullixx]

"That's a Wasteland Citrine Fruit. Your chop it up, crush it and then added everything, juice, fruit, to some solvent with some sweetened energon. I added a bit of that fizzy stuff they started making. Inventive, that!"

Springer paused. He did, too, quizzically, and turned to look at him.

That... was not the look of someone who'd just met him.

That was the look of someone who had, and didn't particularly like him.

Terminus thought he'd remember meeting a green mech like this, though. Rotor frames weren't popular back when, and his particular shade of green wasn't, either. "Do we know each other, son?" His brow furrowed thoughtfully. "I think I'd remember a Springer, memory ain't that bad."

And for what it was worth, he was pretty sure he'd remember if he'd pissed anyone off recently. He usually did it on purpose. "Don't tell me someone else happens ta look like me. Identity theft still a problem?"

[springingfromnothing]

His nasal ridge flares.

A burst of steam curls from his lips past the cart. He vents in heavy- frame swelling with it. Then outwards in a dust and steam cloud. He shakes himself hard enough he rattles.

Then it's like a storm rolling away. Leaving a calmer quiet. He doesn't look fully like that mech. There's a few similarities besides the Desi. This one though- there's smile lines in his derma. He's still got hazard stripes even if they're dated and fades.

He also doesn't smell like lies and something oily stuck to the back of his intake.

" ...Nah. Think it's just a case of doppelganger syndrome. Sorry 'bout that. The mech I was thinking of would rather poison me than gimme a drink. Not to mention he sounds like a wrench aft. Acts likes he's better 'n everyone because he can enunciate big words prettily."

Ducking on habit as he steps through the threshold," Where can I wash up again?" He downs the tankard easily. Grinning as he lifts the empty mug," Cause I sure as hell want another one of these!"

[xxconcedonullixx]

He waited. Mechs these days were big, heavy. Terminus wasn't anything to sniff at, himself, being a deep level miner with armor rated to withstand hotter levels and rock falls, but.

Well, he worried, was all. Some of these kids had armor like all they knew was war. Wasn't good fer 'em, nosiree.

So he waited, to see what kind of move the kid was going to pull first. Like staring down someone who was used to throwing a preemptive first punch before you could even finish the thought connecting wanting to hit him.

The moment passed. Terminus vented quietly.

"Sounds like an aft. Met plenty o'those in my time, too. If he's as bad as poisonin' ya though, can't blame ya fer thinkin' about swingin' on me. Glad ya didn't, though, you look like you could rock me somethin' fierce."

And then Galvatron would get upset, and it'd be a whole thing. Knowing how to de-escalate was less about his own safety and more about the other mech's at this point. Unicronians could be relentless.

He smiled easy as you please though, at Springer. No harm no foul. "Wash room to the left- and here, lemme see that, again, I'll show ya how t'make it when ya come out."

[xxconcedonullixx]

Diamond hadnt seen this one before, not around the unicronians anyway. Not that he has left the temple at all.

So the little birdformer chirped at the bigger mech, wings puffed up as he watched where he perched on the railing.

"Well ain't you pretty?" The bird chirped and Terminus whistled a jaunty little tune back, optics crinkling around the edges when he smiled.

"You hungry too, huh? Well, you just wait there, I think I got some pastry left from this mornin'..."

[circuitry-and-chaos]

The pretty pearlescent bird perked up, chirping more excitedly at the promise of a treat. Wings flapping and hopping on the railing before he hops down with a quick transformation.

Holding up his data pad with 'treat?' Written on it and big, pale blue optics pleading at him.

Diamond wanted a treat! Maybe he pokes at Galvatron a little to much but treat! He deserved it!

[xxconcedonullixx]

Oh- oh! One of those, uh... beastformers? Terminus' optic ridges jumped up nearly to his forehelm, and he made a soft noise of surprise.

..didn't speak, neither? Maybe there was somethin' up with his vocalzer. "Yeah, uh. Hm. You know, knowin' yer a whole mech now, I'd feel bad jist givin' ya a lil treat when I could go an' give ya somethin' proper t'eat. You hungry? Ain't fueled?"

Yeah, pastry was good an' all, but it weren't exactly filling.

[circuitry-and-chaos]

Diamonds wings rustled, and he had to think. Had he fueled? He hadn't needed to worry about that to much with Scourge and them, there was always fuel. Highgrade, mostly, which he tended to avoid, but fuel.

..He just didn't remember if he fueled today. His face scrunched as he thought, a chirp leaving him as he erased his original message.

'My fuel levels are sitting at 75%, so im not that hungry.' He might nibble on something. Diamond was, admittedly, mostly excited for the treat. 'Treat?'

[xxconcedonullixx]

Well, 75% was alright, then. Good enough for Terminus to make an amused chuffing noise. "Alright, alright, yeah, you can have a treat. Maybe a couple. Ever had an energon iced pastry? Could warm it up fer ya so it's warm and flaky."

Was his favorite comfort food, really. Took a long time to make, but it was relaxing, folding the dough over and over, and then rolling it thin and cutting it into triangles to roll up and put in the oven.

He'd done it so many times it was practically second nature at this point.

[xxconcedonullixx]

[ @signalintercept | Soundwave // IDW ]

Soundwave never strayed far from his usual haunts about temple, often lingering in the dimly lit hallways away from others, becoming nothing more than a blur of blue paint when things became too crowded for his liking, and nearly impossible to approach if you weren't Megatron or Rung.

Yet here he was, again, existing in the corner of Terminus' optic, his red visor glinting in the light as he observed the old miner.

Megatron sure had a lot of friends. Which he was glad for, don't get him wrong, he was tickled that Megatron had went out and brought a little community back. Reminded him of his village, way back in the day. But...

He kept his optics forward on his word, stylus in mouth, but kept this new mech in his peripherals. Bit of an odd bunch. Was this one.. shy? Or studying him? He was leaning towards the latter, but he also hadn't been approached, yet. Cautious lot.

Reaching, he nudged a plate with a pastry out to the side of the table without looking away from his datapad, and then leaned back again. Nonchalant, chill. No need to spook 'em.

[springingfromnothing]

"Hey. You gonna lurk on the edges all day or you gonna come on over? I CAN see ya."

" I wasn't trying to hide." Springers voice rolls over the ground with its rumble. Rotors twitching as he slowly cocks his helm. Rolling up to his pedes from where he'd been resting. Shaking off the dust with a flap of his armor.

It was too hot.

So he'd been enjoying a dust nap. The oddly colored metal 'soil' soaking up the heat of his frame. Which led to him observing the grey mech puttering around.

[xxconcedonullixx]

"Well, come on then, wash up. You got time t'lay around, ta got workin' servos ta help." Terminus didn't seem to be bothered by it much, if at all. In fact, he seemed chuffed. "Workin' servoes make dinner taste better, after all. Come on, come on."

It was hot- best cure for that was a cold drink.

Mainly made of fruit from the wastes, chopped and mashed and added into solvent, with a bit of that newfangled fizzy stuff added to it.

"I even brought ya a drink!"

[springingfromnothing]

Springers nasal ridge wrinkles. Lay about? Now wait a klik.

Grumbling as he shakes himself like a big beast. More dust pluming off as he stalks closer towards the other. Chuffing with a deep vent. Licking his fangs as the sweet cold scent hits him.

Hm.

Hmmm.

He hasn't tried that. He can smell it and it doesn't smell like anything he knows. Therefore, new drink? Rotors spreading a bit. Optics flicking between the drink and the mech. Clearly calculating what he's going to tolerate. He's not objecting to work.

But-

" Don't call me a lay about. I don't live here, I don't interfere in other mechanics business. But sure old timer. You want some heavy steel you've got it."

[xxconcedonullixx]

"Oh, well! Excuse me, then, I've been learned! Not a lay about, got it." He didn't seem put off by being... scolded, perhaps? If anything, he seemed mildly amused by it, optic ridge raised.

Older timer! He tucked his thumb into the 'belt' on his hips, and held out the drink a little farther. "Don't really need heavy steel, but you look like ya got workin' servos. I could definitely use some workin' servos, right about now. You up fer a lil kitchen work?"

He was making sure there was enough, 'course. Unicronian Hunger wasn't like anything he'd ever had before, and there WERE four of them, technically. And then all these other faces that had been showing up...

Terminus cast a critical gaze over THIS particular new face. "...you look like you fuel a lot. You throw down?"

[springingfromnothing]

Springer accepts the cup.

Sniffing around the edge before his glossa dips into the mixture. It's sweet- sour- mineral dense; it's sharp and refreshing. His chemo receptors don't detect anything he can't handle. So he takes a long swig before huffing in amusement himself.

" Heavy Steel just means Manual Labor work. I'm big, heavy, solid- but you want me on mess duty? Sure. I know my way around a fuel set up." Optics flickering. Amused as he pops a cart from subspace. He's polite enough to not activate it. Just helps to have in his denta while interacting with an unknown.

" Might be the first time I've been called thick to my faceplate though. If by throw down you mean fight? Yeah- something like that. Desi is Springer."

[xxconcedonullixx]

Can't blame the kid for bein' wary. These are different times, but you should probably always be wary of a stranger handing you a cup of somethin' weird. Either way, Terminus beamed when Springer took a long drink. "Good?"

He knew what Heavy Steel meant, but he let this... Springer, wasn't it? Springer tell him, anyhow.

"Good, good. I'm one mech- sure, I can handle it on my own, but it goes faster when you got someone else to help, huh?" Turning, he beckoned with a jerk of his helm. "Sink in there- wash yer servos. Oh- I'm Terminus, by the way."

[springingfromnothing]

" Different." Hedging, not wanting enthusiasm to give away too much. Springer hefts the tankard, because it can't be called anything else," I'm not familiar with the base flavor. You added a pretty unique set of mineral additives too."

Stepping up to trail behind the other. Only to stop cold.

Terminus.

His field, what little there was, pulls in tight to his frame. Voice dropping an octave as he murmurs a predators warning rumbles," You uh. You wanna pass that Des by me again?"

Springer knows for sure this drink wasn't adulterated in a way to harm. Yet he's stopped shy of the door. Gaze intense, locked on Terminus with slightly blown optical reticle. Like he can't decide between following or swinging.

[xxconcedonullixx]

"That's a Wasteland Citrine Fruit. Your chop it up, crush it and then added everything, juice, fruit, to some solvent with some sweetened energon. I added a bit of that fizzy stuff they started making. Inventive, that!"

Springer paused. He did, too, quizzically, and turned to look at him.

That... was not the look of someone who'd just met him.

That was the look of someone who had, and didn't particularly like him.

Terminus thought he'd remember meeting a green mech like this, though. Rotor frames weren't popular back when, and his particular shade of green wasn't, either. "Do we know each other, son?" His brow furrowed thoughtfully. "I think I'd remember a Springer, memory ain't that bad."

And for what it was worth, he was pretty sure he'd remember if he'd pissed anyone off recently. He usually did it on purpose. "Don't tell me someone else happens ta look like me. Identity theft still a problem?"

[xxconcedonullixx]

Diamond hadnt seen this one before, not around the unicronians anyway. Not that he has left the temple at all.

So the little birdformer chirped at the bigger mech, wings puffed up as he watched where he perched on the railing.

"Well ain't you pretty?" The bird chirped and Terminus whistled a jaunty little tune back, optics crinkling around the edges when he smiled.

"You hungry too, huh? Well, you just wait there, I think I got some pastry left from this mornin'..."

[circuitry-and-chaos]

The pretty pearlescent bird perked up, chirping more excitedly at the promise of a treat. Wings flapping and hopping on the railing before he hops down with a quick transformation.

Holding up his data pad with 'treat?' Written on it and big, pale blue optics pleading at him.

Diamond wanted a treat! Maybe he pokes at Galvatron a little to much but treat! He deserved it!

[xxconcedonullixx]

Oh- oh! One of those, uh... beastformers? Terminus' optic ridges jumped up nearly to his forehelm, and he made a soft noise of surprise.

..didn't speak, neither? Maybe there was somethin' up with his vocalzer. "Yeah, uh. Hm. You know, knowin' yer a whole mech now, I'd feel bad jist givin' ya a lil treat when I could go an' give ya somethin' proper t'eat. You hungry? Ain't fueled?"

Yeah, pastry was good an' all, but it weren't exactly filling.

[springingfromnothing]

"Hey. You gonna lurk on the edges all day or you gonna come on over? I CAN see ya."

" I wasn't trying to hide." Springers voice rolls over the ground with its rumble. Rotors twitching as he slowly cocks his helm. Rolling up to his pedes from where he'd been resting. Shaking off the dust with a flap of his armor.

It was too hot.

So he'd been enjoying a dust nap. The oddly colored metal 'soil' soaking up the heat of his frame. Which led to him observing the grey mech puttering around.

[xxconcedonullixx]

"Well, come on then, wash up. You got time t'lay around, ta got workin' servos ta help." Terminus didn't seem to be bothered by it much, if at all. In fact, he seemed chuffed. "Workin' servoes make dinner taste better, after all. Come on, come on."

It was hot- best cure for that was a cold drink.

Mainly made of fruit from the wastes, chopped and mashed and added into solvent, with a bit of that newfangled fizzy stuff added to it.

"I even brought ya a drink!"

[springingfromnothing]

Springers nasal ridge wrinkles. Lay about? Now wait a klik.

Grumbling as he shakes himself like a big beast. More dust pluming off as he stalks closer towards the other. Chuffing with a deep vent. Licking his fangs as the sweet cold scent hits him.

Hm.

Hmmm.

He hasn't tried that. He can smell it and it doesn't smell like anything he knows. Therefore, new drink? Rotors spreading a bit. Optics flicking between the drink and the mech. Clearly calculating what he's going to tolerate. He's not objecting to work.

But-

" Don't call me a lay about. I don't live here, I don't interfere in other mechanics business. But sure old timer. You want some heavy steel you've got it."

[xxconcedonullixx]

"Oh, well! Excuse me, then, I've been learned! Not a lay about, got it." He didn't seem put off by being... scolded, perhaps? If anything, he seemed mildly amused by it, optic ridge raised.

Older timer! He tucked his thumb into the 'belt' on his hips, and held out the drink a little farther. "Don't really need heavy steel, but you look like ya got workin' servos. I could definitely use some workin' servos, right about now. You up fer a lil kitchen work?"

He was making sure there was enough, 'course. Unicronian Hunger wasn't like anything he'd ever had before, and there WERE four of them, technically. And then all these other faces that had been showing up...

Terminus cast a critical gaze over THIS particular new face. "...you look like you fuel a lot. You throw down?"

[springingfromnothing]

Springer accepts the cup.

Sniffing around the edge before his glossa dips into the mixture. It's sweet- sour- mineral dense; it's sharp and refreshing. His chemo receptors don't detect anything he can't handle. So he takes a long swig before huffing in amusement himself.

" Heavy Steel just means Manual Labor work. I'm big, heavy, solid- but you want me on mess duty? Sure. I know my way around a fuel set up." Optics flickering. Amused as he pops a cart from subspace. He's polite enough to not activate it. Just helps to have in his denta while interacting with an unknown.

" Might be the first time I've been called thick to my faceplate though. If by throw down you mean fight? Yeah- something like that. Desi is Springer."

[xxconcedonullixx]

Can't blame the kid for bein' wary. These are different times, but you should probably always be wary of a stranger handing you a cup of somethin' weird. Either way, Terminus beamed when Springer took a long drink. "Good?"

He knew what Heavy Steel meant, but he let this... Springer, wasn't it? Springer tell him, anyhow.

"Good, good. I'm one mech- sure, I can handle it on my own, but it goes faster when you got someone else to help, huh?" Turning, he beckoned with a jerk of his helm. "Sink in there- wash yer servos. Oh- I'm Terminus, by the way."

[springingfromnothing]

"Hey. You gonna lurk on the edges all day or you gonna come on over? I CAN see ya."

" I wasn't trying to hide." Springers voice rolls over the ground with its rumble. Rotors twitching as he slowly cocks his helm. Rolling up to his pedes from where he'd been resting. Shaking off the dust with a flap of his armor.

It was too hot.

So he'd been enjoying a dust nap. The oddly colored metal 'soil' soaking up the heat of his frame. Which led to him observing the grey mech puttering around.

[xxconcedonullixx]

"Well, come on then, wash up. You got time t'lay around, ta got workin' servos ta help." Terminus didn't seem to be bothered by it much, if at all. In fact, he seemed chuffed. "Workin' servoes make dinner taste better, after all. Come on, come on."

It was hot- best cure for that was a cold drink.

Mainly made of fruit from the wastes, chopped and mashed and added into solvent, with a bit of that newfangled fizzy stuff added to it.

"I even brought ya a drink!"

[springingfromnothing]

Springers nasal ridge wrinkles. Lay about? Now wait a klik.

Grumbling as he shakes himself like a big beast. More dust pluming off as he stalks closer towards the other. Chuffing with a deep vent. Licking his fangs as the sweet cold scent hits him.

Hm.

Hmmm.

He hasn't tried that. He can smell it and it doesn't smell like anything he knows. Therefore, new drink? Rotors spreading a bit. Optics flicking between the drink and the mech. Clearly calculating what he's going to tolerate. He's not objecting to work.

But-

" Don't call me a lay about. I don't live here, I don't interfere in other mechanics business. But sure old timer. You want some heavy steel you've got it."

[xxconcedonullixx]

"Oh, well! Excuse me, then, I've been learned! Not a lay about, got it." He didn't seem put off by being... scolded, perhaps? If anything, he seemed mildly amused by it, optic ridge raised.

Older timer! He tucked his thumb into the 'belt' on his hips, and held out the drink a little farther. "Don't really need heavy steel, but you look like ya got workin' servos. I could definitely use some workin' servos, right about now. You up fer a lil kitchen work?"

He was making sure there was enough, 'course. Unicronian Hunger wasn't like anything he'd ever had before, and there WERE four of them, technically. And then all these other faces that had been showing up...

Terminus cast a critical gaze over THIS particular new face. "...you look like you fuel a lot. You throw down?"

[xxconcedonullixx]

Diamond hadnt seen this one before, not around the unicronians anyway. Not that he has left the temple at all.

So the little birdformer chirped at the bigger mech, wings puffed up as he watched where he perched on the railing.

"Well ain't you pretty?" The bird chirped and Terminus whistled a jaunty little tune back, optics crinkling around the edges when he smiled.

"You hungry too, huh? Well, you just wait there, I think I got some pastry left from this mornin'..."

[springingfromnothing]

"Hey. You gonna lurk on the edges all day or you gonna come on over? I CAN see ya."

" I wasn't trying to hide." Springers voice rolls over the ground with its rumble. Rotors twitching as he slowly cocks his helm. Rolling up to his pedes from where he'd been resting. Shaking off the dust with a flap of his armor.

It was too hot.

So he'd been enjoying a dust nap. The oddly colored metal 'soil' soaking up the heat of his frame. Which led to him observing the grey mech puttering around.

[xxconcedonullixx]

"Well, come on then, wash up. You got time t'lay around, ta got workin' servos ta help." Terminus didn't seem to be bothered by it much, if at all. In fact, he seemed chuffed. "Workin' servoes make dinner taste better, after all. Come on, come on."

It was hot- best cure for that was a cold drink.

Mainly made of fruit from the wastes, chopped and mashed and added into solvent, with a bit of that newfangled fizzy stuff added to it.

"I even brought ya a drink!"

[xxconcedonullixx]

“Lord Consort,” Cyclonus greets him, back straight and wings stiff as ever. “Should you need time or have questions about this new Cybertron we have found ourselves in, I am happy to share what knowledge I have.”

"Cyclonus," he murmured, turning around to beam big and wide at her. Ah, the ever stoic Cyclonus. "Ease up, sugar, yer alright. You wanna come over here an' help me? I was hangin' up the sheets ta dry..."