robothell | rehab 3 WE'RE STILL GOING AT IT

Who: op and sentinel
What: THE CONTINUING ADVENTURES OF MAKING AN ASSHOLE FEEL BAD
When: post bang botanicals
Where: bar then other places
Warnings: Vodka Aunt sentinel

Unbeknowst to him, Sentinel's comm device was buzzing away, rattling across the floor. It had rolled off the table about an hour ago but he hadn't noticed.

Instead, Sentinel had made a somewhat decent decision to rewire his wrist mounted guns into non-lethal tasers. It wasn't anything outside his area of expertise - though admittedly, he was much better with guns that would actually kill. Ah, c'est la vie. Apparently during the goddamn war, someone decided murders were "unethical."

Anyway.

Despite trying to do something positive, Sentinel had also made the bad decision of drinking while doing so. It's made his concentration suffer but frankly, after what happened in Kaon, he's amazed he's not comatose in a gutter somewhere. Fuckin' Megatron. Fuckin' Decepticons. Fuckin' political apartheid that eventually and, he supposes in hindsight, inevitably violently spilled over the bubbling pot.

Fuckin' Megatron.

Threaded | Flat

It took a few tries before Optimus gave up attempting to contact by phone. If Sentinel was going to ignore him, he could certainly do this in person.

You can't skip out on rehab that easily, buddy.

But the good thing about hunting down Sentinel? He wasn't exactly hard to find. He didn't really see him as someone who went out of his way to hide himself, but he was surprisingly not all that social. Huh. Weird, right? But honestly, that meant Sentinel was in one of three places: the crater, an old building, or here.

This one just happened to be his first stop. LUCKY YOU.

"Sentinel."

His voice had a little more authority this time as he steps into Maccadam's. It wasn't exactly hard to find him in the room. He's just the giant asshole.

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