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"D'you wanna come to the baby naming." This, he realizes belatedly, is not enough context. Bunny would grimace if he could. "For the Worm."
"Exos don't make babies."
It's the first thing out of his mouth, before anything else catches up to his brain, and then he's frowning at the ground in that way he does when he's trying to understand something.
Namely, why they're naming the fucking worm.
"You're namin' the fuckin' Worm?"
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"What the fuck." TONKS THIS THING WITH A PAW. "Are you one'a those Cyber-things? Hey. I KNOW you can be a person."
There was one beat of silence until his hood was smacked, and slightly scratched, by the Exo's servo. And then came the violent, fast transformation with a servo full on slamming into the guardian hard enough to send them flying. An angry snarl as he glares down at the mech.
"The frag!? I just buffed!"
He’s going to be busy modifying one of the medidrones’ rudimentary programming and adding little things like handholds, steering, and a seat. For… reasons.
redeyedefiant “You know what’s /not/ vanilla custard? The liquid ammo packets I keep finding on the ground. They’re… fruity.”
"Do you think the Traveller thinks we're.. we're hungry? Is it giving us snacks?"
“Hey.” A comparatively tiny hand bonks Ghostspire’s shin. “You one’a those Go-Bot guys? Uh… The transistors. Cyber-whatsits. Your pals are down by the City wall, over there. Much as you’re free to come and go from the Hanger, the non-sentient jumpships are pre-programmed to maneuver into a docking bay an’ we’ve only got six of ‘em.”
Helm tilted to the side, golden optics peering down at the Guardian, a soft whistle-click coming from him.
"Ah, sorry," Shoved as far into the corner as he could, trying to give as much room to the ships while he made a list of what the Cybertronians needed. The only one amongst the small group who seemed to be able to get into the hangers without much issue.
It helped that he had been doing it for years, getting new lights who didn't have a ship up into the hangers so they wouldn't get swarmed.
"Jus' dropping off some new lights and grabbing some supplies. I'll be out in a moment." Pulling his legs closer under himself and shoving himself more into a corner until Sulphur could get back.
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13 gives the lightweight bow a look-over to make sure everything’s in order before handing it over. “If you like it, Echo, I’ll get you one.”
Echo, an avid collector of bows, jumpships, and ghost shells, weighed the light-weight bow in her hands. She tried pulling it back before carefully undrawing it again. It reminded her of her first Lunulata, a stasis bow with headstone.
She grinned at 13 before handing him his bow back.
"That's a beauty," she said admiringly. "Did you craft it or was it a special buy? Because oh boy, I'd love to learn how to craft one like that."
{ @redeyedefiant }
"..what's 'Winter'?" What the fuck is snow? He squints at 13, because while he is entirely down for cookies and celebrations and presents, some of those words sound made up. Snow. 'Snow'. He repeats that to himself a couple of times, like he's trying to feel it out with his mouth.
“Sevens,” Bunny mutters, coming around behind him to bury his face in Orb’s back. “Baby.”
He sounds rough. Nineteen rounds in Gambit rough, voice shot through with static and a faint tremble in his hands as he fists them in the front of Orb’s tunic. “Baby…”
"Bunny," he sighs, so forlorn, because that can only mean one thing, of course. 13 has run himself ragged again, playing that silly game Drifter ran.
He stretches, reaching in that ridiculous way Warlocks did, to cup the back of his head, and the other arm reaches behind him to grab his hip. "Come lay down with me for a while. Take your armor off, my love."
