re_alignment_logs | Ave Maria [OPEN]

WHO: Karrie (VANDAL) and YOU!
WHERE: The Medbay; Solus Temple.
WHEN Sunday morning
WHAT: Vandal, awake and having broken her fever, is no longer in immediate danger of dying, so she decides to keep her hands busy.
WARNINGS: ... She's got a foul mouth when she's upset, but otherwise she's pretty tame. Also slight disturbing imagery.

DO YOU SWEAR TO FOLLOW THE TEACHINGS OF UNITOLOGY?

I DO.

DO YOU ACKNOWLEDGE ALTMAN FOR HIS SERVICES TO OUR CAUSE, AS OUR SHEPHERD INTO THE PATH OF ASCENSION?

I DO

WELCOME TO THE CHURCH, MISS NORTON, WE ARE HONORED TO HAVE YOU AMONGST OUR GATHERING, PRAISE BE TO ALTMAN FOR DELIVERING YOU UNTO OUR CHURCH. MAY THE MARKER MARKER MARKER MARKER MARKER MARKER MARKER MARKER MARKER BLESS YOU, KARRIE NOW AND F O R E V . . .

Waking up in a hospital that's built for creatures far larger than yourself is jarring in and of it's own right. And Karrie is entirely impressed that she is waking up at all. Maybe this isn't a dream? She feels clear headed enough. And the pain tells her that she's very awake.

~~Can you have dreams inside of dreams? The desert... the white~~

She shakes her head, sliding off the small "bed" that had been made for her and fetching her Rig which was neatly laid out nearby. The wound at her side had been stitched. She could still feel broken ribs, though. Those would take time to heal, but this place is far too strange. Surreal... to be left unexplored. At least there's no necromorphs scuttling after her here. Not that she'd seen, anyways.

Nobody around. No robots. But signs of them. She slips out into open air outside, finishing gingerly putting her rig and helmet on. She may be safe now, but who the hell knows what's out here?

She won't stray far, rather balking at the idea of earning Ratchet's ire. Instead she wanders just as far as the edge of the junk pile, poking around for a while. Thinking.

She has to think. Despite not knowing what to even do with herself. She needs a focus. Needs to ask questions.

She begins gathering a few things here and there, and after about thirty minutes she's back in the med bay with a small bag full of what appears to be useless parts. Dumping them on the floor and sitting down like a kid with some brand new legos.

In an hour, the junk she'd picked up has been assembled into two box-like devices and set up on platforms at either corner of the room. And she's fiddling now with a smaller something- like TV remote, the holo-screen of her RIG floating in front of her, and the tools from her belt storage spread out around her amongst the left over, but neatly-sorted scraps of wire, batteries and little bits of tape that she'd scrounged up.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Fair enough. Easier said than done, though, pretty aware. You guys must have a lot longer to move past your shit. How long do you live, anyways?"

That earns him another weak punch.

"You wanna go, buddy? I'm sure I can take you." Obviously, she's not serious, but it feels good to casually joke like this.

"Well. For what it's worth I wouldn't hurt you either. Not that I viably could, but you know."

"I never said it was easy." There's a note to his voice--he never would say that. It's hard. Harder still when you know there will always be mechs to whom you'll always be 'the ex-Decepticon'. "And we live as long as we can be repaired."

A long time.

"You can always try." He pushes gently at one of her shoulders, a scaled-down move of the slamming punch he'd give Wheeljack. "I'll even try to stay awake."

He can't see it, but her mouth turns up a grin behind her helmet.

"Oh I was gonna let you off the hook but now we're gonna tango, mister."

She hauls herself up, looking him over and returning to his side. Since fiddling with his leg joints and the gaps therein didn't seem to be much of a bother to him (didn't hurt, he'd said), she finds the seam in his side and mischievously prods a finger in against whatever is under there. Hopefully she'll make a pest of herself, make him flinch or something.

She realizes, only shortly after, that's more of a human gesture, and she wonders how one would really make themselves a nuisance to a robot properly.

~~God she hopes this doesn't backfire into something awkward.~~

He tries to block her, but her hands are pretty small, and he pulls his block because, well, you know, not fun to knock someone unconscious.

"GAAAAH!" He bolts upright, going rigid. That...tickles.

Whoa. That was way more pleasing than she'd imagined. She laughs and it comes out of her suit in grainy static through the filter. She doesn't care if she has to grab her side after with the resulting pain. Oh that was worth it. Looks like she does have something on him.

It's easy to duck under and dart her hand into the same spot again, wriggling her fingers.

"I dunno, you seem pretty awake to me, pal."

"Vandal!" He squirms, trying to get out of the way. And fails. "Ratchet could come!" Yes, when in doubt, and fear for tickling, invoke Ratchet.

It's a legitimate strategy.

"Come on, what happened to the tough guy? What is Ratchet going to do? Grouch me to death?"

Yeah, Ratchet threat? What is he going to do, come rescue Drift from the awful human attack?

"Say 'uncle' and I'll stop."

It's weird how human these robots can be in so many aspects. Seriously? Ticklish? Who knew. Either way, he's not getting out of this one with his dignity as she redoubles her efforts with both hands.

"I'm trying not to hurt you!" Yeah, you believe that, right? It is a bit true, after all. He's afraid of thrashing and hitting her.

"....what?"

"I'm not really above using that to my advantage."

She stops momentarily, keeping the threat over her hands there.

"Uh... when you're messing around, and you want someone to admit defeat, they're supposed to say 'uncle'. I honestly can't explain it."

Unknowingly, she is steeping this poor robot in human culture.

"Good strategy." He'll admit it, even though he's currently the victim of it. Because this is the most relaxed, most off-guard moment he's had since he's been here. No label of 'the ex-Decepticon' hanging over his head, no complications. He feels...comfortable.

He grins. "Who says I'm admitting defeat?" Of course it's easy to play tough when you're not being tickled.

"I know." She barks a laugh, wincing inside her helmet. Even through the pain-medicated haze it still smarts.

"Fine, have it your way. You asked for it. Honestly who's ever heard of a ticklish robot." Compared to pretty much everything else, all things considered, it's normal.

But she simply gets back to it, hands searching out new gaps and seams near his belly armor to attack.

He did not, technically, ask for it. But he expects it, this time.

Not that it helps. He tries to stifle the laughing, his abdominal plating tensing downward.

"Not...going...to...surrender!" He's going to retaliate, pushing gently at her shoulder.

"Come on. All you gotta say is one word. You have the power to end this." She talks like it's some dire thing, wriggling her fingers into vulnerable gaps.

The gentle pushing does very little to deter. She just twists under his hand and goes about her merry business.

"Also have the willpower to endure it." He hopes. He's probably lying.

He thrashes, ending up flat on the floor, laughing weakly. Humans are evil. This is proof.

"Oh I don't think so."

What a sight. She's probably straining herself, halfway leaned over him, dealing out the vicious torment.

Who knew she could render a five ton pile of metal and blades helpless.

Drift would like to indicate that he is not helpless. He is merely, uh, differently capable right now.

"All right! Stop! I give in!" He could possibly hold out for a bit longer, but he doesn't want to get Ratchet or First Aid in here, because it strikes him that this possibly looks really, really wrong.

"There, see? Was that so hard?"

At last, the engineer relents and pats his abdominal plating with finality before sitting down next to the flopped robot.

"What was the argument again?"

Ave Maria [OPEN]

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how could this NOT backfire into awkwardville?

VANDAL ISNT THE BEST MAKER OF CHOICES HISTORICALLY

clearly

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what did we say about molesting Drift?

"Only on Tuesdays"? C8

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