#phm#ryland grace#rocky the eridian#project hail mary spoilers
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Trepan dear, when was the last time we had an evening together?
That does make him pause, helm tipped back in thought as to when he and Quark last caught up.
.: Far too long, and far overdue. Did you have an evening and location in mind? I am afraid with my ... tendencies I don't exactly know of any events or top spots :. The joy of trauma based paranoia...
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What a fascinating helm. Had there been some new emergence of fashion or frame in his last trip for the 'matrix'?
@scientificmicroscope
"Because I am laying on a wet floor with a dent in my head, Quark."
@scientificmicroscope
( Don't make this weird. )
@scientificmicroscope has discovered the silent stalker...
Redstrike found himself stuck in his tracks as he spotted Quark. His spark throbbed with familiarity. This was not...the quark he knew. This was not Lambda Quatran, Prime of Wisdom and Idleness. This was...simply Quark. Still, he tilted his head and approached him, taking a seat beside him at the fuel counter. He glanced at him briefly before he turned and summoned enough courage to say, "You have a lovely paint job. Is it natural or did you have it done somewhere?"
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Needing a Friend
Starter for @scientificmicroscope
Ratchet had left with Optimus Prime to travel to some far away planet on a special mission. He’d left suddenly and without so much as a goodbye or any indication when he might return. Pharma was not feeling great about the whole thing, in fact he felt abandoned and terribly hurt.
Desperately needing someone to talk to he had contacted Quark and asked his friend to meet him. He knew the scientist to be rational, trustworthy and not overly emotional, so perhaps talking to Quark would help him sort out the painful mix of emotions he was feeling and bring him closer to deciding what he was going to do now.
Starter for @scientificmicroscope “Come in...” He began, one servo in the air a bit, the other pinching the bridge of his nose, his optics screwed tightly shut like he was forming a migraine. He was settled at his office desk, his shoulders hunched, clearly uncomfortable but refusing to sit up straight. There were holopads scattered across his desk, clearly disheveled from whatever work he had been doing in here. Honestly, if any work was being done, it would be a miracle.
He finally cracked his optics open, peering up at the figure who’d entered. “Ah... Quark? Was it?” He quirked a brow, dropping his optics to the holopad on his desk. Why was he doing this work, didn’t Windblade do the paperwork? He was just there to look pretty...
"So you're the mech everyone been talking about lately."
Sunder tilted his helm, somehow giving off the impression of a blink despite not… having any optics. Eerie.
“I’m being talked about..?” His fingers tapped together, brow-ridge furrowing deeply. “What are they saying? I haven’t done anything. I’ve gone to my sessions. I don’t bother anyone.”
Clearly he assumed it was a negative talk… which was a fair assumption.
