#freelock

[text: groovy]

Freelock gets up from his chair and double checks the target dummy. It’s an average sized cybertronian type dummy that’s decked out in various armor types.

This is gonna be fun.

Ironhide knocks on the doorframe to Freelock’s workshop about ten minutes later, excitement and interest thrumming in his field. He’s been itching for a good project but hasn’t had much to do on his own. Perhaps whatever Freelock has to offer will be just what the medic ordered.

Shifting his weight from pede to pede, Ironhide shoot Freelock a playful but impatient comm.

Freelock hands him a shot glass filled with a bright crimson colored energon with swirls of silver in it. “I’m thinking of calling it, tyrants reprieve.” Freelock says. The energon inside is quite strong and to be perfectly honest, completely flammable when exposed to open air.

“Tyrant’s reprieve, huh?” Ironhide echos, eyeing the shot glass. He takes it and stares at it for a few moments before kicking it back in one go--

--and immediately starts coughing at the strength of it. It burns in his intake, but he manages to swallow it down before a laugh bubbles up from his chest. He looks back up at Freelock, optics still stinging at the taste but with a wide grin on his faceplates.

Revenge for @swepforwardjet callin' 'Hide a scene bitch.

“ not sure. My maps arnt the most extensive they could be.” Freelock says as the pair travel on. “ It’s going to be a little while before we get there, so how have you been? It’s been a while since we last spoke.”

...well, it’s better than any information Ironhide would have. Space travel is really not his thing.

Leaving it at that, he exits the cockpit to look around the ship a bit, being sure to remain within audial-shot so he could hear Freelock. “Not bad,” he replies, giving a one-shouldered shrug. “That mech I gave the shockstaff to? We’re kinda courting now, so. That’s good.” The goofy smile is audible in Ironhide’s words. It’s very good. “Other than that it’s business as usual. Working on projects, trying to keep the cats out of trouble... trying being the keyword here.

Adult Supervision:

Karmela.

Kris.

...Tiffa?

Fellow Asshole Who’s Going To Do Something Stupid With Me:

also Karmela.

Freelock probably.

Gipsy Danger.

maaaybe Lieutenant.

Mixmaster.

Roadbuster.

It’s with the map in hand and a stylus in his mouth that he enters the hangar, focussed on trying to figure out whether or not the smudge of grease is, in fact, a smudge of grease or something he’d drawn in. He almost doesn’t notice the mech working on a ship on the other side of the room, and almost walks away when he does - no need to bother someone when they’re busy - but he pauses. They look rather familiar...

“...Freelock?”