robothell | ROOOOOBOT PROOOOM

ROOOOOBOT PROOOOM

Who: ALL ROBOTS.
Where: THE FORUM
When: RIGHT THE FUCK NOW
What: ROBOT PROM
Warnings: teenagers making out, galvatron doing his thing, a throwdown between first aid and tarn over sixshot. usual prom shit.

ROBOT PROM

the punch has been spiked, the music is whatever they could scrape together, and there’s bleachers to make out behind. takes place OUTSIDE in the forum so there's plenty of space and people can easily crash it.

prom king is optimus prime, prom queen is pipes.

please behave as irresponsibly as you would at real prom.

comment around, mingle, you all know the drill.

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"Sure I do," he says defensively. "Sounds like something Brainstorm and Perceptor would mess around with."

Magic and all that. Rodimus doesn't pay any attention to him, however, going in to get himself a cup of energon punch.

Wow, it's like people have such a low opinion of large get-togethers of Cybertronians! Rodimus notices Cyclonus early on, before he starts practicing his best organic vine impression with Drift, and makes a beeline for the stoic bot.

"Cyclonus! Hey!"

Does he have anything to say beyond that? Probably not. But he's going to hold a conversation even if it kills him.

It's not his fault the bleachers have his and Drift's name written all over them, a prime make out location. But until Ultra Magnus is well and fully distracted, Rodimus will just have to make sure she's at least enjoying herself. He's glad to see she's got a drink - saves him from attempting to find a weak one for her - and simply slides into her personal space. The lack of boundaries serves him well in every situation, what can he say?

"Oh no. I'm not throwing a party so you can just sit there all night."

This. This must be the fabled duplicate of Optimus Prime. Rodimus can see the resemblance - the blue, the red, the not participating in fun activities. He can hear Prime's words echoing in his head - give him the same respect that you would me - and promptly decides that's a bit of Prime advice he's going to ignore. If this Optimus is the equivalent of a lower rank than Rodimus? He's going to have fun. Both of them are going to have fun.

Because it would be a shame if any Optimus never got to relax just once in their lives.

"Optimus, isn't it?" He says, by way of introduction.

"You do know the point of a party is to socialize. Not stay glued to a wall, right?"

He doesn't know this mech, but he knows that that is not how you party. So have a red, orange, and yellow mech, Roller, hands on his hips and an accusatory look on his face. It's hard to miss Roller - Rodimus would bet he's even taller than Ultra Magnus on a good day, which is saying something. Since she's huge and all.

"Oh, that's a shame. I haven't been to a party in ages. Especially not one so lively!" He flashes a grin up at the other bot, red eyes bright. "And definitely not one with so many handsome attendees. It's a nice break for the baffling situation we're in, don't you think?"

Knock Out's hand has somehow wound up on Roller's lower arm. How did this happen? It is a mystery, and clearly one that shall never be solved.

"Sixshot! That's definitely a name." Kind of obvious, but who is she to judge? "I'm Slipstream. And I thought it looked like it might be fun." Grinning wider, she raises her cup in a toast, and confirms, "It turns out, it is fun! I've never been to a party before, you know. Don't remember if Starscream went to parties before I got made, either. I'm betting he wasn't ever invited, which is a good move on everyone's part--" and she grins and jabs a thumb back over her shoulder, at one of the stickers. "Can't blame 'em a bit."

Slipstream is maybe a little drunk already, as indicated by her laughing to herself about how awful Starscream is, as well as her babbling. Possibly also how she's grinning like a loon.

"The drinks," she adds, "are pretty great. Not as good as oil-- allspark I miss oil, no one here drinks the stuff-- but it's all buzzy. Hahah! Do you want some of mine?"

Sixshot is presented with her cup, her beaming face, and the option to get totally overcharged.

Ultra Magnus glances at Rodimus. "I'm not just sitting here. I'm closely monitoring all present parties to ensure that proper decorum and safety protocols are observed. Also, I'm having a very pleasant drink." She takes a sip of her energon spritzer. "Ahhh, that's nice."

Woah ok something's clearly wrong. Sideswipe looks like he got hit with a good pile of Decepticons, with about as much sense. He shakes his head, doing what any sensitive bot would do: poke their face.

“My face is always like this...wait a minute, you callin' me ugly?”

Rodimus will not insult the drink, that's fine. That's Magnus. He expects that, he appreciates the predictability of it. But also: "Yeah, yeah. It's a party, Magnus, how bad do you think it's gonna get?" Don't answer, he's not really interested in knowing. Instead he grabs at Magnus' arm and gives it a tug.

"C'mon, you're here. You have to dance at least once."

Indulge him, Ultra Magnus. Indulge him.

This is Shockwave. This is Shockwave slipping an arm through one of Optimus' as he's unsuspecting, invading his personal space like nothing else.

"Optimus. Would you do me the honor?" And a gesture, out at the dance floor. Where everyone is in various stages of making fools out of themselves. It looks like a fun time, and Shockwave's not about to ruin it.

Ultra Magnus looms up behind him. "Megatron, I presume? I don't believe that you were on the guest list."

Move over, Cyclonus, there's a tiny human joining you at the wall. It's obvious he's not here to participate -- yeah, he seems like the lonely watchdog type. All the more reason to crack that shell, right? June's feeling chatty.

"So. You don't dance, I take it."

Magnus lets out an indignant squawk. "I need to do no such thing!" she sputters. "I am here as the party's chaperone and security detail, not as yet another redundant..." She pauses for a moment, gesticulating towards the rest of the partygoers while she searches for the right word. Finally, she settles on " -- reveler!" spat out with the force of an oath.

Grimlock didn't have the greatest powers of observation, not by a long shot. And after drinking just two cups of the spiked punch? It dulled his senses even less, even though he hadn't reached the horizon of 'unable to make good decisions'. But with Grimlock such a horizon was a small tipping point.

And thus with such a tipsy sensory system so hard it work, it can be perfectly easy to amble round aimlessly with little self-awareness. So much self-awareness that he doesn't notice anything until he feels something connect with his foot.

“Huh? Who's there?” Grimlock looked around at eye level, oblivious to anything going on around him beyond that level, “...guess that must be one of them Cyber Wolves...”

Ever since he came to this “Prom” at Sideswipe's behest, Grimlock started to suspect there wasn't anything that the name Prom suggested to his mind. He imagined there would be at least one brawl but so far? No fights broke out, not one with his name on it. And that's just a disgrace.

So the dinobot consigns himself to trying the punch. While he never tried this kind of stuff before, he was a big enough bot not to get hit too hard. He felt a pleasant buzz after he finished the first one, but he wasn't getting knocked out just yet.

But he's still bored anyway, so here he goes taking a seat next to the weird blue bot. He groans, looking down to the little guy, “You mad there ain't no fights, too?”

OTA.

Rodimus is grinning widely, making his way around and chatting people he knows and maybe a few he doesn't. The punch seems to have gone down well, and he's got a cup of it in his hand. The green color is throwing him off, but he's realized that eventually - if not already - he's gonna start bleeding that color.

Weird.

But tonight isn't about that. It's about throwing a party and having fun! Which is why he's easily approached and smiling at everyone who comes in five feet of him.

CLOSED TO ~~THE BAE~~ DRIFT.

After a certain point in the night, Rodimus has decided he's spent enough time away from Drift. Which means invading his personal space, coming up to nudge him in the side with an elbow. He's put away his multiple punch cups and decided that they are going to do something. They are going to sneak out behind the the rubble and make out. That is absolutely on his list now that they can do it.

But there's something they need to do beforehand.

"Hey Drift," he says in an approximation of smooth and suave. "Wanna dance?"

As jaded as he is, it's still possible for Optimus to be taken by surprise, and he certainly doesn't expect it from his partner. Doubly because of their last conversation. So cue those eyes shooting wide open as he feels himself pressed to Roller's side.

"I--Roller. When did we ever dance."

Not that he's objecting--although that's another conversation entirely, but this is so new. "You're intoxicated." That's got to be the reason, isn't it? You know he can't dance, buddy.

Although...he doesn't want to spoil Roller's bad mood either.

Ah, yes, talking business was much easier than small talk, and he silently thanks Cyclonus for keeping it that way. His eyes flick to the other before going back out to the dance floor, making sure to be as professional as possible.

"Cyclonus."

A soft greeting, before he continues, to answer the question. "Not recently. Although I've been hoping to make another journey out there once things settle down."

What's that high pitched noise?

That would be coming from First Aid as soon as he spots Tarn. He's had enough drinks in him he doesn't notice him right away, but when he does he just makes a shrill sound of rage, his fist tightening around his current (4th? 5th?) glass of engex until it shatters.

"Don't you dare!" he yells as he stomps his way through the crowd towards the leader of the DJD with little consideration he's making a beeline towards a mass murdering fanatic.

"Never. Yet."

But that doesn't seem to bother him. He's practically twirling Pax/Prime around in his grip, grinning down at him. Yes, yes he sure is intoxicated. But he also thinks this is a wonderful idea. Maybe they're undercover. Yeah, that sounds plausible.

He actually laughs, twirling Optimus, before pulling him back in. Up close. And personal.

"Yep! Pretty sure I am. That's like, a first, right? Someone here's got something with a kick. Or something. Right? Maybe? I don't know."

"Party's fine, I guess."

Wow, okay. Even he can get the hint here. It's been a really long time since anyone tried anything that blatant. Maybe on his partner, but not him. He's too big. Usually.

This guy, though. He must be desperate or bored. Probably bored.

"Handsome. You say that to every bot who could bounce you through a wall?"

It's really not a threat. Just casual conversation from someone used to being twice the size of everyone around him.

"Yep. I know. But, hey, it's a nice wall. Hate to leave it all alone."

Talk about overly loud paint schemes. This guy certainly isn't worried about blending in. If Roller stands out from his size, the strange little bot stands out from screaming flame colors.

"Need something?"

"No! No, your face is. It's nice! Like always."

And in true drunk dumb child fashion, he lifts his own hand to pat at Grimlock's face. Beaming at him. Oh, yeah. He feels fine. And buzzy.

"If you did, maybe you should have, oh, I dunno..."

Now he leans over the punch bowl, to better glower in this Rodimus jerk's dumb face.

"mentioned that? Like a decent bot should?"

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ROOOOOBOT PROOOOM

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glances meaningfully at the megatron thread which presumably hasn't happened yet

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