along tides of light

He lets a flicker of gratitude ripple over his field.

“Apologies,” he murmurs finally, after a moment’s lingering silence. “I’m afraid I have somewhat forgotten most social mannerisms. I’ve been working on my experiment.”

It’s obvious Perceptor almost continues, but a nearly audible click of his jaw cuts off the possible torrent like a dam, and a small rueful smile takes it’s place.

“Appreciated, Drift- but I have already fueled.”

A lie, but not one that anyone would know unless they had managed to hack the security cameras.

It's a certain quiet deference. A way of brushing off care or intention. His audial flares tip back slightly, head tipping, the catlike sharpness of his gaze never wavering.

He closes the box, but he doesn't put it away. He simply places it carefully on the desk instead.

It's a certain quiet deference. A way of brushing off care or intention. His audial flares tip back slightly, head tipping, the catlike sharpness of his gaze never wavering.

He closes the box, but he doesn't put it away. He simply places it carefully on the desk instead.

His words are polite, and somewhat curious as they regard Drift’s presence. The reticule before his right optic brightens a little as he takes in the familiar red-and-white plating.

It's a simple statement, his tone level. Those bright gold optics focus on Perceptor's face, searching for something... and then he unspaces a small box. It's not a crystal, or incense. Inside are some candies, one he's kept on him for specific reasons.

Opening the box, he offers up the fluorite-looking cubes to the scientist, audial flares remaining tipped back as he keeps his attention focused on Perceptor's face.

He's no medic, or therapist. All he can offer is himself. A friend. Nothing more, nothing less.

It's a simple statement, his tone level. Those bright gold optics focus on Perceptor's face, searching for something... and then he unspaces a small box. It's not a crystal, or incense. Inside are some candies, one he's kept on him for specific reasons.

Opening the box, he offers up the fluorite-looking cubes to the scientist, audial flares remaining tipped back as he keeps his attention focused on Perceptor's face.

He's no medic, or therapist. All he can offer is himself. A friend. Nothing more, nothing less.

The hangover the next morning had not quite been worth it, but he had methodically taken care of that too. For now, he’s shaken off the holiday doldrums and is currently back in his lab, working on a personal project. He’s set an alarm to remind him to fuel up halfway through the shift. 

Emotions, he decides, are useless things that get in the way of scientific progress. Perhaps, despite the horrific Empurata—

But he's got a keen optic, and even he can drop the "woo woo" act when he recognizes something might be amiss with a person he thinks highly of. Which is why he's gone looking for Perceptor, considering him suspicious in his absence.

Not suspicious in a way that makes his hackles raise, but in a sense that he's... concerned.

His steps are cautious when he does enter the lab, modified just enough so that he can be heard as he slips over, pulling up a stool to sit near his old comrade.

He adores Rodimus. He has for a long time. As much as he adored Megatron, and adores Ratchet.

His surprising fluster is... endearing.

He adores Rodimus. He has for a long time. As much as he adored Megatron, and adores Ratchet.

His surprising fluster is... endearing.

He's just come out of doing some meditative katas. While the crystals may be bunk, and he's aware they're bunk, he does enjoy reading about the supposed meanings to give them out to people.

That one, though, he'd chosen for different, far more specific reasons. Sheathing the swords on his back, he cracks his neck.

It's nothing.