Dark Ages of Cybertron Wiki

Doac jpg.JPG

Back to 2010 Logs

Shark Goa Swivel

Shark hasn't been down here in a good many cycle, mostly avoiding Lifeline and the memories that Cubicron brings up in his mind. But he needs a drink where others won't judge him, won't really bother him for being a warrior.. an Autobot. So he is in his booth in the back corner, the one with no lighting. Sitting there sideways in the booth, legs stretched out straight ahead of him, back against the stained wall.

The last licks of laughter dies out from outside as the doors open, hissing and groaning in protest from a lack of maintenance. The petit form of Swivel slips into the bar, shaking her head and grinning, letting out a sigh not of boredom, distress, or exasperation, but almost sounds amused. She walks into the middle of the bar, and then pauses, as if momentarily undecided whether to favor a booth or a stool right at the bar.

Goa sidles into the bar, not looking to draw attention. He really shouldn't come down so soon... it stresses out topside. But they'd take him all the time if they could, wouldn't they? So maybe it's a little point-proving. The point that, like it or not, he had obligations besides those with the Decepticons. And he had to track down Depth at some point. Right now ... just a drink. That plan is slightly foiled by the sight of a familiar back at the bar. Pointy-teeth. Well, fancy that. Goa hops up into the seat next to him and waves over ... a weaker drink. Not just straight-up energon, but none of that blue slag, either. He grins briefly at the mech as he waits for Foz-E to mix it up.

Shark sips on a simple enerbeer, green optics gazing off toward those in the bar, not quite focusing until two forms enter .. both of whom he knows. The optics dim slightly, a little sigh escaping him. Free hand laying against the curve of his chest, fingers rubbing over the grime that's collected on glass and metal from cycles of patrol. Not exactly inviting company, nor quite exuding that sense of 'just leave me alone'.

Swivel curing her pause, and her casting glance around, she first turns her attention to Goa who had entered shortly behind her. It was amazing how often people she recognized would end up entering right behind her. She waves at Goa, but then her topics travel in the direction to which his attention had turned, seeing Shark lazing in a booth. She tilts her head to the side, recognizing the Autobot after a moment or two. She wanders in his direction but does not invite herself to take a seat, instead just standing sort of nearby. "Hello again."

Foz-E clanks Goa's drink down in front of him, and he picks it up without looking at it, immediately turning to look at Swivel. "Hey Swivs." He takes a sip, eyeing Shark again. "That stuff I show ya any use at all?"

Shark's optics flicker slighty, gaze lifting up slightly but not quite meeting the femme's face. "Swivel." he offers softly, tone oddly flat and tired sounding. Shifting his legs a bit to push himself up the wall then letting one leg swing off the edge of the seat, the other still extended out ahead of him. He sits up, drink in hand, taking a sip from it. "Remains to be seen." he replies to Goa.

Swivel inclines her head, flashing one of her friendly grins at Goa. Observing both Goa and Shark, she tilts her head to the side, then glances about the room. "Should I.... uh... go someplace else?" she asks, still smiling. "You know, let you two talk?"

Goa'd been trying to address the femme while looking over Shark from the corner of his optics, but the Autobot's response is just as meaningful. He'll take it. His orange optics both focus on Swivel, now, though. He returns the smile. "I don't see why. Foz-E, something for the lady, unstuff this place." Turning around in his seat to face Shark, he hunches over, his drink perched in fingers that criss-cross near his knees. "I am considering the offer. Just don't know how she'll take it."

Shark shifts again, swinging the other leg around and sitting more properly in the booth, his optic dim a few moments then he says, "Not going to bite you Swivel, so you may as well sit." he notes, then glancing up at Goa, "You too." he gestures to the seating opposite him, setting his half drained drink in front of himself. He steeples his fingers in front of the glass, leaning on his elbows. "It is the truth. That is the sharpest wound anyone can inflict."

Swivel raises her optic ridges. Her natural curiosity is just begging her to ask who they are talking about, but her desire not to scare off clients by being nosy keeps her mouth clamped. Instead she just quietly accepts the invitation and slides into the booth across from Shark, taking the far end of the seat and leaving room for Goa to sit beside her.

Goa's antennae furrow to a point when Shark extends the offer ... he waits a few moments longer so he can bring Swivel's drink over, slide it in front of her, and slide himself into the seat. The Decepticon doesn't seem uncomfortable at all ... he leans back and wraps his arms behind his helmet, in fact, setting one foot out to the side so he doesn't occupy /all/ the space. It's now that he gets around to laughing in reply to Shark's point. "If you met her, Toothy, you might not talk that talk," He grins, letting his dental plate clank on the glass as he takes another sip of his drink. "Got all the knives I do, and a few aught more willing to use 'em. On anybody."

Shark hmms softly, chin touching the tips of his steepled finger, giving an appearance of prayer. "Maybe I will some cycle. More than likely in battle." he replies sincerely, then looking a moment at the oddly quiet Swivel, "Where's the bubbly effervescence Swivel? Electrogator chomp your vocals?" he asks, sounding just a hint like he's teasing her very lightly.

Swivel takes the offered drink, taking a sip. Yes. Her not talking will obviously be easier if she shoves a drink in her face. "Thank you," she chirps to Goa and then brings the glass up to her lips for another sip. She contentedly smiles, until she gets teased. Then she just laughs. "I just have nothing to add to the conversation. I know my place, sir."

Goa raises an optic ridge. "Sir?" He smirks, chuckling into his drink before he sets it down. "Speakin' of that, where's the Shark that tries--" He bares his remarkably well-polished teeth. "--to out-toothiness me?" Apparently the Decepticon picked up his name at some point. "Oh. You one of those mechs that gets all down when they've been drinkin' a bit?" He lays off the teeth.

Shark unsteeples his fingers, allowing them to interlace a moment, then sliding his hands apart. One coming to rest palm side down on the table, the other taking hold of the mug of enerbeer. "No need for honorifics with me Swivel, not like I'm Prime or some high ranking officer deserving of it." he states. A slight smile tugs at the mech's lips at Goa's comment and question, "He's not here right now, maybe another cycle when he's not so utterly tired and in a funk."

Swivel blinks her optics a few times and offers up a small shrug and a little smile. "Well, if you insist on me not using honorifics I won't..." she says, then gives a slide-glance to Goa. "Would you like me to call you sir? When I met you were already well on your way to drunk, so I didn't see that I'd get far with stuffy language. In fact, I'll speak in whichever way seems appropriate for my surroundings." She reaches into subspace, pulling out a small tablet and setting it on the table. "You two go ahead and talk, there's something I forgot to do today..."

Goa keeps that optic ridge raised. "We ... do, Swivel." He kicks back a long swig of his drink, nearly emptying it. That was starting to become a bit of a reflex when he's nervous, he realizes ... this stuff was barely strong enough to even give him a buzz ... He sets it down before he can chug the /whole/ thing, wiping his mouth quickly. "If I was a sir, I never would'a left Cybertron." He can't help himself from peeking at what Swivel's up to. Motioning at Shark, he replies, "Been there. Say no more." He keeps eyeing the pad, then snaps his optics away like he's realized what he was doing. "... well, do. But you know what I mean."

Shark sips on his drink, listening to her chat to Goa about the use of the honorific as well. He moves the glass from his lips, glancing at her tablet curiously. He looks to Goa at his words and nods. "Copy that." he way of saying he understands and won't pry.

Swivel pauses for a moment as Goa eyes the tablet. She just smirks and turns it on, but then covers the screen with her arm. "I hope I'm not being terribly rude... I will still be listening and chiming in where I feel it's my place to chime in.... but remember, Swivel knows her place. And if she doesn't... feel free to remind her." She casually takes a sip of her drink, still covering the screen with one arm. Then slowly she moves it away, taking a stylus out and tapping something in a bottom corner, then scribbling something onto it. She glances across at Shark again. "Hm... is there anything that might cheer you up?"

Goa's optics blink a couple of times toward the Autobot, then he smiles suddenly. "Been a while since I heard anybody talk that way." It was true. The airforce-dominated Decepticon military was a small culture to itself, and with a culture comes a lexicon. A hollow Goa didn't even realize he possessed. The mech doesn’t know any of the fancy words and logic, though, he's happy to just bask in a little pinch of nostalgia from his smuggling days. Swivel's defensive motion snaps him back out of it. "Oh. Sorry," he grins nervously, "Old habit." That didn't help the blast from the past, either.

Shark finishes off his drink, then licks his lips of any residual foam left behind. He looks toward Swivel, looking thoughtful about that question. "Tell me what femmes want when it comes to mechs cuz right now I'm in the middle of a conundrum that I no clue how I got myself into, let alone how to get out of it." he replies softly, then a hmm to Goa, "Eh, you pick up lingo from all over when you just sit and listen for it."

Swivel widens her optics for a moment or two at Shark's request. She clearly looks like some creature caught in headlights at that question and is stunned in silence for a few moments. Then she puts on her hard thinking look which consists of tilting her head to the side and pursing her lips tight into a small off-centered line. "Hmmm.... to be honest I'm not really sure. I talk with more mechs than femmes, and what I want clearly cannot be what all femmes want." She pauses. "I never really thought about it before. I guess.... maybe... humility without seeming weak minded?" She pauses to quickly write something down on the tablet, shaking her head, but still looks thoughtful. She looks up again. "Doing something... something you only do around her. If you don't smile a lot, smile around her, and just for her. Have something that you, and only you, share, even if it's small." She shrugs again. "I'm just guessing though."

Goa waits for Swivel to drift off, but he does butt into a conversation outside him, as is his wont. "Don't hide slag from her." He shakes his head, smiles, and tries to take another chug from his drink, but ... there's scarcely a sip left in there. So he sits there, with his head tilted back, trying to get the last drop out of it, for a while. He has a moment to think. Shark was right, too ... but he'd always prided himself on not talking like a freight shipper. Maybe that's part of what brought him to become a Decepticon... "But really, what she said. We wanna know, Toothy?"

Shark listens quietly, taking in what the diminutive femme has to say on the matter. "Perhaps if you told me what you want it'll give me further information on what to do." he tells her, though Goa catches his gaze, intent quiet suddenly. "Right. No secrets." he remarks, then in a serious tone, "I care for three different femmes, one has pushed back hard and hurt me deeper than any Con ever has, another I cared for enough to give her my spark, but I feel no connection after the fact, the third says she loves me but I am not sure what I feel for her since I have just begun to know her." he sighs, looking pained a moment, conflicted. "This should be happening to a better looking mech with better pay." he mutters.

Swivel nods her head in agreement with Goa's statement. "Yes. Trust. Trust is important. Honesty and trust. Some people think a femme wants to be flattered.... well you have to trust them to be able to handle the truth from you. No one wants to love a lie..." she trails off as if she is uncertain of what she is saying, her smile falling into a frown. She is happy to turn her attention back to Shark's tale of his history with femmes. She then tries to make it look as though her frown was sympathetic for his cause, throwing off suspicion that she is disconcerted by something else. Of course, at his last line her face lights up and she laughs. "Come now, a better looking mech? Why, a smile like yours is to die for..." she offers with a wink. However, she quickly sobers her expression up again. "As for what I want... I... uh..." she glances down at her tablet, then covers it with her arms again. "I don't know what I want. I don't expect anything or look for anything in mechs. I just let things... let things happen..."

Goa's antennae twitch forward. "No wonder you're so comfortable 'round me..." He glances aside to look at Swivel as she starts to drift quiet... then winces, sort of. Don't look at the tablet, Goa. Be strong. His optics click back wide again as he looks at Shark. "Sounds worse than my trine." He might not be buzzed enough to talk about that ... but he was ALWAYS buzzed enough to say confusing things. "Sounds like you need a break from the whole thing, too." Tossing the empty glass between his hands, he holds it up to peer at Shark through it, "And how is Torque, anyway?"

Shark hmms and nods, ah the irony. A mech who has created a life full of shifts, stratagems, plans, and dealings that are not quite the truth or even honest.. if he weren't an Autobot he'd be fricking Swindle. The comment about his smile only earns Swindel a groan, "Maybe I should have left them all snaggled up after Lifeline tore them out." he mutters, "And the chin, should have left it to rust and scar." he nods to the uncertainty of her own then looks to Goa, "We may be more alike that either of us realize eh?" he asks, meaning it to sound half hearted. Torque's name makes the young mech actually flinch. "I don't know."

Swivel glances over at Goa. "Of course I'm comfortable around you. You seem friendly. By looking for things in mechs is a way to alienate them, and that's a large part of the population of Cybertron to be alienating just because I'm trying to avoid awkwardness. Also because I know mechs don't go for femmes like me." She rallies up her spirits and smiles at her last comment, keeping her tablet shielded with one arm while she begins to write with the other. When she has run out of thoughts she looks up again, not minding the groans she is rewarded with. "Don't be so down on yourself. There's so many personalities out there, and they just don't always mesh even when you want them to. However, I'm sure you'll finally find someone right for you." She pauses and glances at Goa. "You too. There is always hope in all things, even in this war torn world, there is always hope, and anyone who tried to convince me otherwise is wasting their time."

Goa looks over at Swivel again, bringing a fist up to rest above his mouth. He moves it ... one eye to the other ... his helmet is in the way. Can't get it to block his vision. Slaggit. His optics bob up and down crazily. "Well, sure, you too, Swivel." He smirks. Was his palling up with Slipstream not that obvious?

He didn't miss the twitch at Torque's name, but it garners no response from the Decepticon, other than his mouth's sides tugging upward just a little bit. "Some femmes find facial scars appealing, you know." He shrugs.

Shark takes a long hard look at Swivel. "Eh, I'm not the only one hard on themselves here at this table." he tells her accurately, then scoots over to the edge of the booth to see if anyone is observing the group. Glad that the grime upon him has mostly obscured the sigil on his leg. Goa earns a flicker of optics from the mech, "Its a new face, maybe I'll keep the next one."

Swivel raises her optic ridges at Shark, catching his comment. She continues to smile. "Hm? You think I'm being hard on myself?" she asks. She idly shakes her head and writes a few more things onto the tablet. "I'm not. I'm just honest with myself. And not being the sort of femme to attract mechs suits me perfectly, it makes my work easier." She pauses as thought she just had a thought and glances over at Goa. "Oh... me being comfortable around you hasn't caused any.... problems with you and certain other femmes, has it? I mean... ones that follow you around and watch you from dark booths?"

Goa watches Shark scope the room attentively. That... that wasn't such a bad idea, actually. It just hadn't occurred to him; He shrinks a bit closer to Swivel pensively. He couldn't afford to be seen with Shark, not after the attention the 'Con had gotten so recently. "You were too being hard on yourself, Swivel," he replies, still not quite looking at her, "And no. I can't say it has. Femmes just hang around me for some reason." He smirks and shrugs. "And I know you ain't gonna do that, Shark." Still smirking. He's reasonably sure the Autobot wouldn't do something like that ... because Goa wouldn't either.

Shark hms softly, "So was I being honest with myself. Be as that may though, we all get lonely and it would be a sad individual who grew old and realized how they misspent their time." then he pauses at her verbal jab at Goa, "If I had a femme following me around, and I was her mech, she's either making sure I'm being faithful or she's just seeing what I'm up to out of concern. The latter would be better than the former, especially if you were being unfaithful. But then here I am in the mess I'm in so what do I know eh?" he states while pushing himself out of the booth, standing up and then turning toward the two. "Don't know me too well then do you? I need to be going, not had a recharge in a decacycle and its catching up to me."

The 'Con flashes another toothy smile. Far as he was concerned, Shark just confirmed his hunch. "Yeah. Yeah, I think there's better mechs to talk to about misspending time, Toothy." His optics narrow a little, but he keeps on a smile -- no fangs now. Goa's lips flatten like he's mulling over a farewell. "Good luck."

Swivel tucks away her stylus and powers off the tablet, tucking it away. She sets her hands, palms down, n the table and smiles. "Well, I hope you get some decent rest, and find a solution to your femme troubles. Although I do not think there are any easy solutions to those from what I hear other mechs speak." She blinks her optics then glances at Goa. "Come, why would you think I'm being hard on myself?" She gives a little shrug, still smiling. "I'm not lonely. And like I said, mechs don't go for femmes like me, but I don't want anyone to go for me. I believe friendship should come first, not a sudden attraction. And, like I said, I let things happen."

Shark hms and nods to Goa, "Later Greeny." he offers, deciding that will be the Cons nickname. He hmms to Swivel, "Well said. Good cycle." then he turns and walks out.

Goa partially sits up and easily swings around to the half of the booth Shark just vacated. Ahhh. Legroom. He's not optically shooing the Autobot's back on his way out ... so there's got to be some amount of respect there. Or lack of it. "... Greeny?" he remarks, long after he's gone. Then he leans forward , his arms lying parallel with the table edge, hunched back completely haloing his helmet. "Swivel, 'cause you say mechs don't go for your type." He eases backward a little. "I can tell you straight up that's untrue. And I'm a /decepti/con," he smirks, "I can respect the way you work. I was there." Goa taps at the -- heavily dented -- side of his helmet. "Just don't let work get to your head."

Swivel watches Goa as he heads into the booth across from her, a smile lingering on her face. She also slouches forward, folding her arms and bundling them on the table top. Within this cradle she sets her chin and peers across at Goa. "If you say so. I just notice most mechs like the strong willed, fiery, witty warrior femmes, or the coy flirtatious ones... not a workin gal that sits back and drinks beer with them." She offers another shrug. "And hey, I resent you implying that I love only my work! I'm not a careerist! I just got to survive is all," she says, and her tone is facetiously indignant, but she can't fight back a smile. She sits up and waves over a waitress, ordering herself another drink. "At any rate, I guess, yes, there are some mechs that'd go for my type, but I was speaking in general. There will always be an exception to the rule. Usually several. I mean, we are all unique, aren't we? Even if so many of us look the same..." She laughs a little. "Well, most of us. I sure don't look much like everyone."

Comparable in the same posture, Goa seems like he might /ought/ to dwarf the non-combat-equipped femme, but he's almost the same size in profile. Save the hulking shell on his back. "You don't?" He shifts sideways to crane his neck out and look around the El Sleazo, shrug, and then move back with a renewed smirk. "And when did I say that?" He lifts his chin, entire form shifting upward a centimeter or two. "I'm just thinkin' you think it's all you're good for." He watches her order a second drink with thirsty optics, but stops himself, rubbing at them instead. Like the Pit he was going to indulge in that again so soon. Like he could afford to! "Then again, maybe you shouldn't listen to me. I'm the one with the academy-fresh femme, however that works." He shakes his head, still rubbing with a split hand at his optic lenses. "Guess the denseness is refreshing. Way the seeks are."

Swivel takes the drink that was set before her by the waitress and takes a few gulps. She raises her optic ridges at Goa's wonton glance towards the drink. "Would you like one too, Goa?" she asks, smiling impishly. "Really my job is all I'm good for. I was built to explore plains and mountains and possibly get shuttled off to other planets to explore them.... but the war made expansion less of a priority, so I got stuck doing what I could; driving around crazily." She takes another thirsty gulp and sets the glass down. "I probably could join either faction and scout for them, but I don't see the point. Wars aren't my scene, and weren't meant to be. I'm just keeping myself alive and waiting for it to resolve itself. Oh but I do not want to talk about the war or the factions. I already had a discussion with someone who wants every Autobot and Decepticon out there dead for ruining everything... at any rate I maxed out my war-talk quota for the cycle!" She pauses a moment. "Meh... your advice is as good as any. Really, no one is wiser than anyone else. Really. No one truly knows anything, except for cold hard facts that have to do with, I don't know, well, reality, but not people! No, definitely not people! Or morals! No one knows anything, but that's fine, we all learn."

Goa shudders as Swivel passes over the topic of off-world exploration. It gets bad enough he has to shutter his eyes and breathe deeply from his fans. "That single-purposed, Swivel," He smiles, and dims his optics back online. "I envy you." But his antennae twitch inquisitively when Swivel mentions a ... peacenik? No, that wasn't the description of a peaceful mech. He warms up further as Swivel continues, though his antennae lay back into their grooves again. "Don't get too metafis... metaphysical on me, Swivs. Don't trust my processor to keep up anymore." Thinking about his premonitions gifted by the Spire of Freedom ... still hanging in the back of his processor, even though that was starting to feel like vorns ago ... gave him more than enough to do in that regard. He holds his hands up negatively. "No. No, I can't, you saw what happened last time. They'd mince me topside." His optics dim-and-brighten again. "Thanks, though."

Swivel drains the contents of her glass before calling over the waitress again, ordering another round. At this point she is wearing a relaxed smile. "Sorry, didn't mean to do the head-spinning topic.... I am not really that deep of a thinker... but those thoughts just light on you sometimes..." she shrugs her shoulders. She'd noticed him flinching a little at the mention of off-world. "Well, I wouldn't want to get you chewed out." The waitress delivers her third round for the night, and Swivel chugs it back. "I guess we could go on talking about femmes if you'd like. It's a popular topic here in El Sleazo after all," she says with chirpy glee.

Goa raises both optic ridges. Maybe she could hold her liquor better than he could, after all. He'd have to talk to Murusa about that at some point. You'd think, for a mech with a backup fuel system... "You'd have to help me out, then, 'cause I got no idea what I'm talking about. Just winging it." He stares away ponderously, a hand going to his beard, "Pretty slagging literally, some cycles."

Swivel lets out a loud chuckle and then just shakes her head. "Okay fair enough, but I think most mechs are just winging it to be honest!" She finishes her third drink already, setting it down. She eyes it for a moment as if contemplating whether to get more, but finally decides to cut herself off. She sets the glass aside and looks back to Goa. "I just like talking... usually I have no trouble finding a topic but I feel I am at a loss right now. I'm leaning on.... leaning on so many negative topics in my mind tonight... which isn't like me. Nuh-uh. Not one itty bit."

Goa smiles to himself. "Course you do." The 'Con sits up in his seat, which isn't saying much, just that his back is flush against it. "Then I s'pose you're wondering what Shark and me were on about." His antennae lower to the sides slightly, "Though I s'pose that's a little negative, too."

Swivel shrugs her shoulders. "Actually I am very curious.... but I'd rather hear negative things that say them, so, please, by all means, go ahead and share. I just wasn't going to pry because right away Shark did not seem in the best place, so I didn't want to push him anyplace unpleasant, you know?"

Goa crosses his hands over each other on the table, strumming the fingers of the top one once. He's sober, and has the luxury of considering what he wants to say. On one hand, he didn't know Swivel all that well, and he wasn't keen on his skepticism regarding Megatron's report getting around. On the other hand, she could know mechs that could give him a hand ... and, if Goa were compromised, there'd be a trail to follow ... At any rate, he scoots further toward the wall of the booth. "Long story, and I'm not much of a storyteller," he glances at his hands, "But my twin went through some things. Bad things. Someone mucked up her spark, to start with."

Swivel leans forward, her smile fading as her face slipped into a serious expression, but one of keen attention. "I have no place to be. So make the story as long as you need," the small femme says in a calm, reassuring tone. She pauses for a moment when she hears the brief explanation. "Bad things...? What do you mean by mucked up... and... do you know who is responsible?" She seems to glance to the side for a moment as if a few suspicions pass her thought, but she dismisses them as spiteful, uneducated assumptions, or even just fancy, and she returns her attention to Goa.

Goa sets his elbows against the table. "I don't, and that's why I'm talking to that Autobot you seem familiar with." He catches the pensive look, and dismisses it. She's overcharged. "Megatron says it's some long-dead Autobots. Gave me the files on it. But," his hands lock together, "I've got more files. Files that report things, relevant things, he didn't even mention."

The mech's expression sours. "Exotic crystal, straight in the spark chamber. She shouldn't've lived. Most of them didn't. None of them do..." he starts to drift off there. "I wanna be wrong, Swivel. I want to be wrong, Megatron to be right, let them toss me to Sharkticons for daring to question. But I need to know the facts. Everything." The mech's fingers are practically digging into each other -- his optics, far into space. "Need to know what I allowed. What was allowed. By who."

Swivel seems to be drawn into the intense story. She does not interrupt. She does not do her usual smile and nod. In fact, she is very still as she listens, her optics never straying from Goa. Furthermore, she gives plenty of pause after he is finished to be sure he is finished speaking. "Crystals..." she murmurs. She then tilts her head to the side in thought. "There is... there is nothing wrong with questioning your leader... so long as it doesn't turn to paranoia or false accusations. I think it's healthy." She blinks her optics a few times. "What... what exactly did this information tell you that you did not know before?"

Goa's sort of hawk-nose turns back to point at the femme, his orange optics staring intently down it. He tilts the point down further, as if to emphasize the collection of dents his helmet is. "It doesn't encourage unity." He returns to his straight stare at her ... smiling softly. "It tells me that it could've gone either way. That I don't know who's responsible, and until I squeeze more data from the higher-ups, I've gotta suspect they well may not either." Goa tilts his helmet aside, sighing, to get a data pad from his cab and slide it across to Swivel, bearing the report he mentioned, with the stamp of high Decepticon clearance. "Like to think I'm a decent investigator. Was good enough before. Every single lead in there is a dead end."

Swivel stares at Goa, nodding very slowly, understanding when she is being stared down at in such a way. "Of course... you don't want to cause ripples... that end up in tidal waves..." she shakes her head. When the data pad is slid to her, she raises her optic ridges for a moment and gives him a glance, then down at the data pad, back at him, then at it again and slowly takes it. She glances over it briefly, constantly glancing back up at Goa expectantly. "I'm just a courier... most of this doesn't mean much to me..." she says. "But honestly... honestly you have some sort of.... um.... idea of what is going on otherwise you wouldn't be questioning things. What is it... what is it that is making you doubtful? Or do you just want to be thorough? And..." she takes a long, almost timid pause "...will she be alright?"

"She's fine." The Decepticon's expression almost brightens at the inquiry. The orange antenna-slats at his forehead start to rise, then fold away again. "We're both tolerant of the compound. Part of how I figured we were related, in fact." Wouldn't twins know that? "I'm doubtful because something is being hidden from me. An'I'm thorough because every astrosecond of pain that stuff causes," he spits, "I get a little bit guiltier. I was there when they found it, Swivel. I was there when somebody managed to get some back to Cybertron under my nose." Goa nods very slightly. "Doesn't have to mean much to you. I just wanted to see if you recognized anybody. Prove my point."

Swivel taps her chin thoughtfully. "Well... everyone makes mistakes... and sometimes we aren't the ones making the mistakes, but other people are just... um... well... we have no control over their actions." She finds it odd that he should point out enduring the compound was how he figured out he was someone's sister, but she says nothing about it. "And sometimes when people DO make mistakes... they hide them out of pure shame or pride." She pauses on this comment. "Whatever is being hidden, I hope it's not for the worst reasons."

Goa puffs air from his sides. "I hope nothing's being hidden at all, and I've just brought some new data to the 'Cons, nothing more." He drops the cone of his helmet into his hand, drilling it down into the palm. He stops the drilling motion and smiles, "But Goa hopes a lot of things." His free hand motions for the data pad back, before it's forgotten. "If you sell secrets, too, don't let me stop you. Just ... try to let this one move slowly. Let it bite me once I'm not just a grunt," he chuckles.

Swivel shakes her head firmly as the data pad is retrieved. "I don't sell information, I just move it." She pauses a moment or two. "Weeeellll... I do sell some information, but only when I'm desperate. I guess you just gotta hope that that simply doesn't happen to me. But so long as my needs are met, you can trust me. I'm not greedy..." she pauses for a moment "...although it is nice to get bonuses, tips, and a little extra for what I call my sanity fund. It gets my booze, sweets, and any other comfort luxuries." She stands up. "However... speaking of needs, I have some that need to be met." She stretches and glances down at herself, as if checking herself over, then looks back at Goa. "I really do hope you find your answers, even if they aren't the ones you want. Closure is important. The truth is important." She drops to a whisper. "Knowing who you can trust in this world is important."