re_alignment_logs | A formal dance.

Entry tags:

A formal dance.

WHO: Everyone!
WHERE: The Atrium, Haven's Hub.
WHEN: Today! The dance will go on from the late afternoon until the early hours of the morning.
WHAT: Have your top hat and cane? This is a formal ball. The origination is a drunken Vandal and battle-worn Saber.
WARNINGS: Could be anything from bar fights to drunken swearing to people tripping over their own feet or people making out in a corner.

Welcome to the dance!
     The Atrium will have its doors open in the late evening. For the first two hours, Vandal and Drift will be acting as receptionist and bouncer. After that, the doors close. At the reception desk, you will be required to sign your name and also hand over any weapons that you are carrying. (Within the building there is an inhibitor placed. No one will be able to use any weaponry on their person.)

     The Atrium is decorated in royal purple and black, with accents of white and pearl. The decorations are standard fair for a ball. There's hanging draperies, table clothes, and colored lighting. Towards the outside of the circular Atrium, everyone will be under a glowing white light. Towards the middle of the dance floor, there is a much softer lavender that illuminates the immediate area.

     Vandal and Saber organized and planned, and then helped with decorations. They will also be over seeing the event throughout the entire night. Vandal will be handling the reception desk and registration. We have Frenzy as our DJ in the Atrium, and Miko will be playing electric guitar for those who decide to visit the bar. Saber, Ironhide, and McCrane will be acting as security. They would be the best to contact should you have any.. safety concerns. Our bouncer, Drift, will be "on call" for security once his primary assignment is done. Kay organized and lead the decorating, and Ravage and McCrane helped with placing them. Melan and Joe gathered needed materials. Skidaddle is the one to blame for having the supply of available hats at the doors for any Cybertronian who tries to get past the one piece of attire rule.

     Feel free to post in any sub-forum area you think your character would be present in (with or without an opening post), or merely tag others. Prose or action-spam is okay (and you may want to include this in your initial posts if you want others to tag you). Bonus: include links to garments your character may be wearing. This is entirely up to you! Have fun!

     Make sure to add your character to the tags! (That's the registry.)

SHORTCUTS TO THE SUB-FORUMS:
Reception Area
Dance Floor
Lounging Areas
Bar
Walls

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Huh? Ah...yeah. Dancin's not really my thing...

[He swirls his cube, taking another sip of it.]

Surprised ya came at at all.

No? And given your actions with the... worm creature... I would have thought you were rather well-versed in the subject.

[He steps up to the bar, leaning against it.]

Smokescreen was debating coming. I have a duty to ensure nothing happens to him.

[He glances over to Perceptor, eye perking up. You were...watching that, Perceptor? Don't mind if he's a weird mesh of amazed and surprised. Skeptical too.]

Didn't think you paid attention to my footwork in the field.

...

It's good you're lookin' out for him. Kid needs that kinda support.

It was either that or stare into the gaping maw of potential demise. You were a halfway decent distraction.

[He sips at his cube, staring resolutely behind the bar.]

You're familiar with him?

[If anything, that gets a laugh out of him. To be related to anything halfway-decent nowadays was amazing. He didn't get that very often, even if Perceptor didn't mean it.]

You flatter me, Sarge.

[He swirls his drink again, eyes casting down.]

To be honest, don't even know him. Didn't...I guess I'm from before him, timeline wise. Joined Team Prime and everything back home. Guess that's why I'm not up on the details.

'S good for him.

I wasn't attempting to do so.

[His tone is mild, despite what he says. It's a social gathering, and he has little desire to mar the cheerful atmosphere. He sips at his cube, absently.]

He informed me he rather idolizes your Wreckers.

[He says it so casually, he might as well be remarking on the weather. But... it's also a warning.]

[Smokescreen looks up to you. Don't mess it up.]

Figured not.

[He says it just as casually, as if disdain or overall apathy were just another Tuesday for him.]

...Does he now.

[A chuckle. Despite the comment, his eyes are rather warm from the comment. It wasn't everyday that someone IDOLIZED what the Wreckers did. It would explain why Smokescreen was so close to Bulkhead. The things he's missed out on...]

Maybe I'll take him under my wing.

[It's slightly teasing, casting a glance up at the tank.]

[Coming from Perceptor... it's not really anything new at all. It probably is just another Tuesday, as far as he's concerned. He has disdain to spare for everyone.]

Indeed. Unfortunately...

[He trails off, the last word ending up more threatening than he probably intended for it to sound. Then he sputters.]

[Yes, that's right. He sputters.]

I don't think so.

Yep. Unfortunately...

[There's another sip, unable to keep himself from smirking beneath the aqua liquid in his glass.]

What? Not a fan of a little Wrecker rookie running around?

No. I'm not.

[He lifts his own drink, regarding the wall with a flat stare.]

He's impressionable. And he's in search of his... rightful place.

I don't want him blundering into something dangerous because he's trying to emulate you.

[Wheeljack raises a hand, as if to cut Perceptor off there.]

Relax. I have no intentions of makin' the kid a Wrecker. He's got a lot goin' for him, if heard right.

Knew Trion and everything.

Who am I to ruin what he's got goin'?

[And now it's Percepor's turn to contemplate the bottom of his cube.]

Knew.

Currently... he's of the mind he has very little "going" for him right now. I wouldn't be surprised if he began grasping at any possible solutions.

He's somewhat... lost.

[The tank pauses, and empties his cube in one go.]

And I've utterly no idea how to compensate for a social-emotional deficiency. Hence this incredibly awkward conversation.

Well, you and Magnus are probably the best the kid has. I'm sure he'll be some science librarian cop combo. Somethin. He's pretty hard to keep still, though.

[He sips from his cube.]

I'd teach him how to build a ship, but he doesn't seem like the type to be interested with power couplings. Or rerouting power from blasters to shields when passing through space-time to avoid any potential debris hitting your ship and spiraling it into the nearest sun.

[Another sip.]

Better off with that science stuff.

Which is precisely why I've set him to fetching materials... It suits him until he learns to settle.

[He shakes his head, curling his fingers around the empty cube.]

Unfortunately, it doesn't seem as if Magnus is any more suited to this role than I am. So... there goes that--

[He stops.]

[Just. Stops talking in the middle of the sentence. He's staring at Wheeljack as if suddenly afraid the other Autobot is going to burst into flames or start speaking backwards.]

What... was that?

Least it keeps him busy. He seems like one of those bots who just can't sit still for a second.

Not that I blame him. Went a little stir-crazy on Earth sometimes.

[...r u ok Perceptor.]

What was what.

Ah, yes, something of the sort...

[He just keeps staring. Gaping, really.]

You almost sounded scientific for a moment.

[He swirls that cube again, going for another swig.]

What, just cause I don't hole myself up in a lab you think I don't know basics of interstellar travel?

[Oh and he's smug science too.]

No, because you labeled an innocent chemical reaction as the basis for summoning a tentacled horror.

[He slams his empty cube down on the bar, and motions for another.]

So, yes, I sincerely doubted you knew anything regarding interstellar travel, or astrophysics in general.

HEY.

[He closes his eyes a moment, as if trying to keep focused on what he was going to say. They open, and he points a finger at him.]

It was bad timing.

[That glass meets his lips again for another drink.]

Yeah, cause any amateur might fly through a star or hit the point of no return on a black hole. That'd end your trip real quick. We've got fast ships, but they're nowhere near light speed. And if lightspeed can't outrun a black hole? You're fragged. Ya gotta program your computer to factor in anythin that might be happenin' where you're heading. Supernovas, neutron stars, wormholes.

Do I gotta go on?

Of course it was.

[His next drink arrives as he says that, and he scowls into it.]

[At... least until that tirade starts up.]

[Then it's back to staring at the other 'bot again. For a long, long moment. he can't believe what he's hearing. And part of it likely has to do with the drinks. But...]

[Do I gotta go on?]

["Going on" might very well be impossible as, with his free hand, the scientist seizes the back of Wheeljack's head... and, without further ado, mashes their mouths together.]

[It's very short, very fierce, and he pulls away before too long passes -- before his engine has a chance to kick to life.]

No. I don't believe that will be necessary.

[As he primly sips the remainder of his drink.]

...

[Wheeljack just stood there, like the kiss just froze him on the spot. His eyes don't even move. Apparently the wall off in the distance is very interesting, because he seems to be focused on that during this little lapse.

When he finally comes to, he presses his lips together a moment, thinking.]

That.

That was a thing.

I believe it was, more specifically, "a decision I'll likely regret in the morning", also known as "a drunken kiss".

[Despite what he says, his words remain as clipped and precise as always. Even as he finishes his drink.]

Do try not to read anything into it, I assure you it won't be happening again.

That's what I meant.

A...thing.

[He takes another sip of his drink. Like nothing even happened.]

I don't feel like readin' anyway.

You can call it a kiss, you know. It isn't a dirty word.

[And now they're both drinking like that Thing didn't happen.]

Somehow, I had thought that would be your answer.

That's what I said.

[Siiip.]

You would. I knew that'd be your comeback.

A formal dance.

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