BYEDONTFOLLOWME

[ancillary]

Who: Miranda and YOU
Where: Maccadam's
When: After this disaster
What: Miranda licking her wounds and hating robot teenagers, but also vodka.
Warnings: Questionable potato vodka and minor injuries. Standard Mass Effect functioning alcoholism.

Miranda had suffered her fair share of dives. Cerberus contacts that had her plastering on a fake smile as she talked logistics in the back of red sand dusted table in the back of a smoked out bar on Omega. Even when it was the veritable pits at least she never had the need to fallback on undergraduate biochemistry classes and distill her own alcohol.

She wanted to blame Rodimus and his attached to the hip friend with the swords. She wanted to be incensed. Instead she told herself she was happy enough not to debase herself and concentrate on her more practical pursuits. Such as re-purposing some of the machinery she found behind the massive bar in Maccadam's and putting those tubers and other consumable to use. Vodka, specifically. She lucked out and found the hardware close enough to what she recognized and could feasibly work with to make this into a time pisser that actually let her think; to do something with her hands. There was even a clear concoction behind the bar that came up on her omni-tool as being isopropyl in all but name. Everything a girl could hope for.

"Shit."

Sitting on the counter top of the Maccadam's bar, Miranda hissed when she brought a wad of torn synthetic fabric soaked in rubbing alcohol up to her lacerated and swollen face where she bore the brunt of that fight. Had to take care of the superficial wounds before she wasted her medi-gel. Rubbing alcohol in one hand, she also had what must be the glass for the world's smallest shot for the average Cybertronian but held like a highball glass to her filled with ice and strong vodka. Her own brew, and the way she shuddered when she took a pull, it was strong.

Comments

[myownbestfriend]

"Our being here isn't an accident?" Not that Emma realized it, but it said something about her life that her immediate assumption on being teleported to an alien world was that someone's science experiment had gotten out of control. "Do tell."

She offered an opera-gloved hand to shake while reaching for a Cybertronian shot glass with the other. "I'm Emma Frost, by the way."

[ancillary]

"Miranda Lawson."

Names both dusted over with a sheet of ice even if one was more blunt force in the imagery than the other. Miranda was quick to respond with a firm handshake, unconcerned with the bleeding smeared across one side of her face. No reason to let something so trivial get in the way of etiquette.

"The planet itself is as inorganic as the native popular and the former is...changing," She started with the rim of her glass pressed to her bottom lip, "Its reconstituted itself to support organic life and more to the point my initial fieldwork suggests this is not only unheard of but the planet started self-terraforming well before any of us showed up.

A gloved finger taps against the glass.

"We're the repopulation effort. On a plant native to a giant inorganic, and frankly grandiloquent, pieces of work calling themselves Cybertronians.

I'm not thrilled." Miranda finishes taking a long pull of her best accomplishment since being dumped on this rock.

[myownbestfriend]

Game recognize game, gurl.

Emma poured herself a finger or so of alien moonshine while she listened to Miranda, looking skeptical more at the smell than the explanation.

"This might crack the top ten list of the most ludicrous things that have ever happened to me." Nothing about her life had made sense in years. Leaning back in her chair, Emma took a test sip and made the sort of face one would associate with drinking space rotgut. "This is never going to replace a Napoleon cognac."

[ancillary]

"Strangely the autochthonous species I've suffered runs in with so far are as disorganized and at a lose as the rest of us."

Miranda threw her head back with now half her glass gone, apparently immune to drinking what could be sold commercially as a paint thinner. Overcharged biotic amp and being caught in the middle of what amounted to two hormanal teeangers the size of tug boats dancing around each other. More than enough to put a layer of steel in her gut.

"If they had played a part then that scuffle outside would have ended with motor oil on the ground or whatever it is they run on."

[myownbestfriend]

"I've never been fond of giant robots." Thinking of Sentinels, Emma knocked back her whole drink like a college student doing shots. She didn't try to suppress the resulting full-body shudder as it burned its way down. "I have friends better at taking them apart than I am, but unfortunately they're not here."

[ancillary]

"You and me both." Reaper involvement had all been completely ruled out, but they were neither the only synthetic race out there nor the only one Miranda had a dim view of. She followed suit in polishing off her popskull as though the invented bartender called last round.

"And from the looks of it they can't be trusted with their own planet."