✈ voice ✈

[ex_backstab594]

[The noise of wind whistling, quite loud, like the recorder is up somewhere high, with the very faint sounds of traffic down below. The comm is registered to "Marc Brut".

Starscream has been in the City for several hours, now. Hours of not posting with distressed vocalizations or angry threats, no demands. No begging for help. Hours of holding himself back from emotional systems collapse while he maneuvers the demands of an entirely new universe is no mean feat, but he doesn't expect a medal (it'd be nice though).

For a moment there's only a soft tapping, and then a voice, pitched evenly with rehearsed-sounding tones. Edged calm. Keeping things level, but under the veneer is the shadow of distress.]

I propose an informational bartering session, with whoever is on the Network--with whoever can speak to me who is in charge.

I - have invaluable data. You won't be disappointed.

[a few moments pass in silence, and then he ends the post. But a minute later, he's clicking it back on, unable to resist the urge to add]

And if you're ignoring my hails on purpose, you know who you are, so help me--!

[hanging up again hastily before he wrecks everything]

Comments

[ex_backstab594]

[immediately the smugness evaporates, and he's sputtering and making waves and a huge fuss] What--are you--[so flabbergasted, water dripping off the end of his nose and his impressive eyebrows knit in a scowl, not sure what to address first, but determined to make this clear.] I am not incapable.

[notyourchauffeur]

"This obviously requires two people!" [Skyfire echoes, doing his best "Starscream voice" as he squirts some shampoo onto his head and starts working it into a lather with his fingers.]

[ex_backstab594]

[grabbing at his wrist, looking up at him like a drowned rat for a brief second, grates out with each word deliberate] I'm. Learning.

You are instructing me.

[notyourchauffeur]

Oh of course.

Now hush up and close your eyes.

[Another bowl of water over your head to wash the suds out.]

[ex_backstab594]

[he's ready for it this time, at least, closing his eyes and scooting back in the tub a little as he paws at his own hair, to push it back away from his face.] Doing this every single day seems tiresome. I have far larger concerns than washing topsoil off a frame that's already falling apart from shoddy construction.

[notyourchauffeur]

Diseases.

[He casually reminds him, soaping up the sponge and starting in on Starscream's shoulders and chest.]

[ex_backstab594]

[he is beginning to hate that word already.]

Yes, yes, so you've said... I'll just need to hasten my plans to create synthetic energon and remain in my robotic form forever. [uh yeah that's, really all he'll have to do, no problem.

He arches a little into the sponging with curious interest, kind of liking how it feels.] Hmf. Though I suppose this could be worse....

[notyourchauffeur]

[He does the best job he can, avoiding things he'd deem a bit too intimate (his back, for one, if he's anything like Skyfire, he'll have the notion of wings being there).

He ends up seated on the edge of the tub, leaned back. Casually fishing around to catch one of his ankles so he can scrub away at his legs and feet. He doesn't really care if it sends Starscream toppling back into the water. He just wants to get this done.]

[ex_backstab594]

[IT'S LIKE HE'S DOING IT ON PURPOSE wham Screamer reels back and indignantly splashes up at his tormentor slash caretaker--after choking on what feels like half a gallon of bathtub water euck.]

I'm going to give the first disease I get to you.

[reaching over to grab the sponge from him and toss it aside, looks up at him sharply for a second, and then adds] That's fantastic work and you're dismissed. I'll be out in a moment.

[notyourchauffeur]

[A short, sharp hah! escapes him before he thinks better of it, and he releases Starscream, holding his hands up disarmingly.]

Whatever you say. Towels are under the sink.

[A pause, as he gets up, but stops in the doorway.]

Unless you can't dry yourself off.

[ex_backstab594]

I'll manage.

[for a moment he just stares at Skyfire, and his expression emulates perfectly a wary and quiet uncertainty. Stable ground. Trying to assess what that means.

And then the duck climbs up on his knee and gently shakes itself off and fluffs out its feathers and ruins his brooding bathtime]

...Hm. --You're not leaving? [attempted casual.]

[notyourchauffeur]

[He just groans and shakes his head.]

I'm going. Try not to slip and split your head open.

[FLOUNCE.]