So Tarn walks into a Bar...

[sparkwhisperer]

Who: Tarn and You
Where: the NEW Maccadams Old Oil House
When: right now
What: Tarn tries to make some new friends
Warnings: None :0

It has been weeks since Tarn’s fight with Megatron and he has kept himself as scarce as possible, nursing his wounds, and even more recently, his broken pride. Spending his days mostly alone has begun to wear heavily upon him, too ashamed by his recent fall from the Decepticons to face most of the mechs in the base.

The bare patch on his chassis still jars him when he glances down at it.

Still, he can’t help but think about what Sixshot told him. He can’t hide forever, and the longer he waits the more the Autobots will think that they have won. A change of tactics does seem to be in order.

Tarn has wandered from the base still wearing his scars from the battle and hobbled by a slight limp; but otherwise at nearly full strength. Heading deep into the city, the DJD Commander begins his search for any flicker of civilization in the vast, crumbling, nearly desolate city. He wants to be seen. To let it be known that he is done hiding and won’t be going anywhere anytime soon. They will be forced to face him whether they want to or not.

Before long he stumbles upon a small establishment, clearly Autobot owned. Maccadams, it seems, has made it to even this Cybertron. He isn’t surprised; though as he approaches the door he does note a small sign clearly stating ‘No Tarns’ in bold lettering. A Deep booming guffaw rips from him before he quickly tamps it down, muffling his chuckling by clearing his throat. Tarn straightens his back, lifting his head and purposefully ignores the sign. The former Decepticon pushes the door open and steps confidently into the dim lighting of the bar.

This can only go well.

Comments

[rodders]

This is infuriating. He wants to kick something. He wants to kick Tarn in the face again, because that was intensely satisfying. If his plating flares up a bit to make him attempt to look bigger than he is for a moment, it's definitely a subconscious action. Totally.

"I'll get Magnus to re-write it." He's sure she'll love that. "Guess you rusting to nothing out there was too good to be true." Since he'd been rather quiet since the entire... thing had happened. Rodimus had been pleased about that, really, because no Tarn is the best Tarn.

[sparkwhisperer]

"My, you certainly sound sour about it." He stops just next to the bar, hovering next to Rodimus for a moment with amusement bright in his optics."Surely you didn't think I would be away for very long."

Tarn slides onto a seat at the bar, causing it to groan under his weight. "Don't worry, I'm not looking for trouble. Just a nice drink." He simpers, looking for the bartender as he drums his fingertips on the table's dull surface.

After a few moments of waiting he simply helps himself, reaching over the bar to grab an empty cube, filling it on the tap and garnishing it with a few ice cubes and a straw.

[rodders]

"You know me," no he doesn't, Rodimus. "Always looking on the bright side of life." Which involves Tarn bleeding out in a ditch somewhere. He gives the other a scathing look through narrowed optics, suspicious. Rodimus doesn't like this, doesn't like this at all.

But there is nothing inherently threatening about Tarn drinking within ten feet of him. Well, nothing more than it being Tarn which, to Rodimus, is enough of a threat that it deserves action. Especially with what he's been up to here! Which.

Hasn't been much since he got his ass kicked.

"What happened to the last person you told that to, huh? Sorry. Not buying it." He will never buy whatever the fuck this is that Tarn is trying to do, hands balled up into fists as he tries to suffer through the indignity of this. Because it is the worst! The absolute worst.

[sparkwhisperer]

Tarn refuses to back down. He swivels around on his stool to face Rodimus, lifting his drink and sliding the straw through the slit in the mask to take a sip of his engex.

"That's fine, I don't need to prove anything to you." As far as Tarn is concerned the only person who he needs to prove anything to is Megatron.

"Really, I would think that you would be jumping at the opportunity to play nice. After all, your attitude, so far, has really cost the Autobots..." He pauses smirking and setting his glass down on the table. "An arm and a leg."

He supposes its his turn for awful puns. Don't think Tarn has forgotten 'too hot to handle'.

[rodders]

"Yeah, but I'm pretty sure my co-captain," and he draws the word out for the first time ever - letting it sink in. It has never, ever sounded as great as it does when he's using it to needle Tarn. "Would be interested in seeing how you're incapable of following directions."

Is Rodimus vaguely threatening to sic sad dad Megatron on Tarn again? You better believe it. But it's the play on words that really gets Rodimus - who slams his drink down on the counter harder than is warranted. "You did not just--" He did! What the hell! And he just knows the bastard is smirking, which makes it a special brand of awful Rodimus was completely unprepared for. "I'm not the one who's tearing people's limbs off left and right!"

Fuck you, his joke was on point, Tarn. Yours is just tasteless and really fucking good. Which is also partly why it's so enraging.

[sparkwhisperer]

That anger that he receives from Rodimus is refreshing. He ignores the needling about Megatron in favor of clapping a large purple hand on the Autobot's shoulder.

"I wouldn't worry too much about it Hot Rod, I am more capable of following direction than you might believe. In fact at this very moment I am, belatedly mind you, following Megatron's very orders to stand down." He scoops his glass back up, tapping the rim with a finger, before continuing his thought.

"Hence the drink, relaxing in the tacky furnishings of this establishment, and willingly placing myself in the company of an Autobot."

Now, if he can just get Rodimus to lose his cool enough to strike. Then things will get interesting.

[rodders]

Oh no he didn't.

"Okay, first. It's Rodimus." That is important and he's not fucking letting it go, mostly because it's Tarn and he doesn't have to take this from him. Seriously. "Why don't you go find an Autobot who's willing to put themselves in your company then."

It won't take much, he's already half out of his seat - hands on the flat of the counter as he glares at Tarn. He doesn't have to stand for this. He doesn't. He absolutely doesn't.

[sparkwhisperer]

"Oh yes, that's right, Rodimus. Apologies, I had mistaken you for someone with taste." This was so much easier than it had any right to be. It almost isn't even fun. Almost.

Tarn mildly leans away from Rodimus as he begins to get up from his seat, sipping at his engex.

"It isn't hard to find Autobots here. Maybe I'll even search out your friend Drift, I haven't spent time with him in some while..."

[rodders]

If Tarn wanted to hit a sore point, that was it. Rodimus practically jumps from his seat, hands curling into fists as he stares Tarn down. The very small part of his mind that sounded an awful lot like Ultra Magnus was telling him to think, but he's past caring. Not when it's about Drift.

"Like hell you are!"

Take one more step, Tarn. He dares you.

[sparkwhisperer]

"Now, now." Tarn chides in his most patronizing tone. "Surely it's not worth getting so riled up over."

He knows he's walking a thin line. All Rodimus needs is that last little nudge. He gently places his glass down on the counter, turning to face the fuming Autobot.

"After all, I'm sure Drift wouldn't mind a little chat between friends."

To apologize, of course. Tarn's emphasis on his little party trick and murderous glint in his optic are surely nothing more than a trick of the light and paranoia on Rodimus' part. Clearly.

[rodders]

Clearly.

But it's enough to get Rodimus to snap, half propelling him over a seat between them so he can slam his first right into the side of Tarn's face. Forgetting every other lesson about getting within striking distance of Tarn that he's learned since arriving in a fit of rage brought around by what really amounts to a complex.

"Don't you ever come near Drift again, you--" Insert comedically timed loud noise that disguises what Rodimus is going to say next from delicate ears and audios.

[sparkwhisperer]

Tarn is lucky that the his mask hides the shit eating grin that has taken over his face when Rodimus absolutely loses it. It really had no business being this easy to get under the flashy Autobot's plating. And in the end, he has in fact given Tarn exactly what he wanted.

The punch, he will admit, had more force behind it than he was expecting, knocking him just slightly toward the edge of his stool. His lip catches on the edge of his own grin, splitting it and causing his own energon to mix with the sweet taste of the engex on his tongue.

Straightening up slowly, he casts Rodimus a sort of quietly arrogant look. "Well, that was quite uncalled for. So juvenile too; name calling is for the crass and cavalier, hasn't anyone ever told you that?"

[rodders]

It is intensely satisfying to have at least punch him, even if it doesn't really do much. But any sense of satisfaction is washed away by the fact that Tarn just shrugs it all off. 'Name calling is for the crass and cavawhatever.

"Do you see this?" He says, pointing to himself. "This is me, not caring." But one more thing: "It's not uncalled for, Tarn. You deserve everything you get."

[sparkwhisperer]

Tarn reaches up to swipe away a drop of energon that dared drip from behind his mask.

"That certainly is not true. And if it was, wouldn’t you say that Megatron evened the score when he beat me to the brink of death as you hid nearby like a coward?” He turns back to the bar, lifting his drink smoothly to his lips.

"Regardless, all this talk over a silly traitor. You certainly are invested in Drift. Has he been showing you some of the tricks he learned while scavenging in the Dead End?"

[rodders]

For a good long moment Rodimus is too angry at Tarn to form a coherent response. He doesn't care about the accusation of cowardice... no, he cares. He cares a lot. But how much he cares is instantly eclipsed by Tarn's next comment and how much he cares about that. Which means there's really only one course of action involved - launching himself at Tarn.

Yes. Literally launching himself, because common sense and Rodimus were never on speaking terms and it has now completely abandoned him. Sure, Tarn is bigger and... Tarn-y, purple and very very much a walking, talking machine of death and destruction but Rodimus has faced Megatron head on and only come away with a giant gaping hole in his chest.

Aiming to throw himself at Tarn so he can hit and kick whatever his hands and feet can reach is clearly a well-reasoned, justified response and not resulting from bad judgement made worse by anger. Obviously.

And if he can slap that drink out of his hands, so much the better.

"Don't ever say that about him again--"

He'll show Tarn 'coward', goddamn it.

[sparkwhisperer]

Tarn sees Rodimus gearing up for launch but there isn't enough time to brace himself. The force at which the red Autobot springs forward knocks him right off the other side of the stool, landing on his back with a loud clang and a quiet ‘oof’. His drink flies out of his hand spraying engex cross the floor and a nearby wall; cup clattering a few feet away.

Tarn manages to easily block most of Rodimus’ punches. To be honest, they barely even register when they do hit their mark. After a few moments, however, he gently flings Rodimus away when a punch cracks one of his remaining biolights. Rude.

The DJD Commander eases himself up onto his elbows, fingers flicking the broken glass away.

“Well that certain was something. It seems i’ve struck something of a nerve. Still, you shouldn’t be so quick to fight; especially when you are so hilariously out of your depth. You’re lucky that I’m in a forgiving mood. I don't have time for such childishness."

He glances around the bar quickly to see who is around and how much he can get away with.

this is so late i'm so sorry

[rodders]

Rodimus hits the ground with a ringing clang, and while common sense would tell him to knock it off before it gets worse, he's not listening. There's just the ringing accusation that seems to echo in his head, blocking out what remaining common sense he has left. He practically jumps to his feet, hands still clenched into fists.

"Go to hell, Tarn." He frame heaves for a long moment, optics a furious white. "You started this, not me."

Not exactly true, but Tarn had clearly ignored the sign he'd posted. Which was important, he didn't just put it there for shits and giggles, alright? It was there for a reason - a place away from murdering assholes like Tarn. Who'd just-- he'd just ignored it like it was nothing!