(no subject)

[phase6kindofbot]

Who: Rampage and Sixshot
Where: In a dump.
When: After Rampage 'visits' Tarn.
What: Sixshot's sense of smell is unfortunately good.
Warnings: Angry sad robots.



There's a lot of things Sixshot has been letting past him intentionally. He smells traces of Tarn throughout the city still, underlying the scents of various mechs. Helex's heavy molten slag smell and the supplies the titan brought with him to the edge of the city to meet with his commander. Spinister's more elusive paths through the city, the smell of Tarn's old energon and healing nanites and the dry scent of the wastelands. He smells Galvatron and the heady, electric scent of sex.

Every time he catches a strand of it through the thousands of scents that linger over the city, he has to stop. Smell was his most dominant sense and the memories he accumulated through it stayed vivid for eons. Every time he breathes Tarn's scent in, it feels like his spark breaking over and over again.

There's a scent that he's caught recently that makes his tank flop however.

Fresh energon. Tarn's fresh energon.

On Rampage.

He waits in one of their more usual meeting spots, the building not too far away from the clinic where he'd introduced the crab-former to First Aid. There's a tension in his frame, wings standing on end and hands clasped together in vise grip.

Comments

[crabcake]

Rampage is in a good mood. How could he not be in a good mood when he's still got the echoes of pain and fear and anger swirling across his spark? Such an old familiar high. He hadn't realized just how much he missed it, craved it, until Tarn had pulled all those emotions out of First Aid and spilled them on the ground just like his energon.

He ignores the tension in Sixshot as he approaches. His friend has been varying degrees of moody since the incident took place. So he simply saunters up and tries to sling an arm over Sixshot's shoulders.

"Why are you always miserable?" he says, amusement flavouring his voice.