robothell | (no subject)

Who: Tarn and Galvatron, Tarn and Spinister
Where: in and around the Decepticon Base
When: the morning after prom
What: Tarn is hungover and meets Galvatron/ Spinister and Tarn have a heart to heart
Warnings: none as of yet

Galvatron

Hangovers. Something that Tarn is familiar with, in concept, but not necessarily in experience. He would have preferred to keep it that way, to be honest. Unfortunately one can not simply undo the massive amounts of engex that he consumed over the course of the previous night. Now he must pay for his mistake.

At least the world had stopped spinning, that is a definite improvement. However, daylight still felt like it was melting his processor, and mild nausea still roiled in his tanks.

Tarn finds it important to celebrate the small victories.

As he heads back to the Decepticon base from his meeting with Sixshot, he finds that his footfalls are agitating his headache. Too wrapped up in trying to cultivate as quiet a journey as possible he barely notices that someone is in his way until it is too late.

Bumping shoulders, Tarn turns to look at the mech in his way.

“Apologies, I was distracted.”

His voice is strained and far softer than his usual deep timber.

Spinister:

He hasn’t been avoiding Spinister. Don’t be ridiculous. It’s just that they haven’t really spoken since Megatron came to pay the base a visit, over a month ago.

It isn’t as if Tarn hasn’t done anything to warrant the scientist’s displeasure, because he is aware that he has done plenty including denting the walls of his brand new shower…

Regardless Tarn figures now is as good of a a time as ever to talk things out as he limps his way into Spinister’s lab with his dented pelvic plating.

He has attempted to ask Pharma about seeing to it, but the Autobot had immediately pinned him with a poisonous glare. It seems to him that the helicopter might be his only option.

“Spinister. Do you have a moment."

Threaded | Flat

Spinister sloooowly sticks his head out from around a door frame. You thought that look Pharma gave you was poisonous? Well this look is nothing but poisonous daggers.

Fortunately for the DJD commander, his only willing medic and teammate decides to give him the time of the day.

"Mmmmaybe."

Galvatron stood, arms crossed, watching the Decepticon base from afar. He'd been at the party as well, though he was much better at handling his engex than some of the other party goers. He's been to better ones, but he'd adopted his long time ritual of post-drinking contemplation anyway. His disappointment had begun to warp into some strange mix of disgust and second hand embarrassment as he thought about the Autobots here and the sorry state of the Decepticon warriors; a deep scowl had already begun to spread over his face even before Tarn bumps into him.

"Are you blind too?" he snaps, turning towards the mech.

His optics swipe over the armored form, the purple, the mask, and he barks a laugh sharply at the sight of Tarn.

"What is this supposed to be?" He makes a gesture to the mask.