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October 17, 2011

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Nova Black Quickrazor Vortex

(The Tina, Polyhex)

---

Nova Black stomps into the Tina, still a bit irritated from the argument the other night. She sits down and orders a drink, her wings twitching as she tries to calm herself down.

"Nova," Vortex greets her. He's hunched over the bar a few seats down. He rolls his shoulders, making his rotors turn, and pokes a sliver of metal which sits on the bar beside his cube.

Nova Black cracks a small grin as she sees the copter enter. She knows full well he's crazy, but he's never turned that crazy on her so far. And after last night, she'd honestly prefer dealing with the creepy 'Cons over the ... whatever that was. "Hey, 'Tex! How are you?"

"Thirsty," he replies, but doesn't touch his drink. "You know anything about Psykeout and a little glitchmouse of a neutral he keeps?"

"Psykeout?" Nova asks, twitching her wings. "I don't know slag about him except what happened yesterday. Who's he keeping, now?" Even if she did know what he was talking about, she wouldn't let on anyway. Not unless she thought she'd get more than she'd be giving up.

"What I said," Vortex responds. "Little glitchmouse of a neutral. Swivel. Ran into her in Cubicron." He digs the slip of metal into a scratch in the bartop, not widening the scratch, just following it. "Doesn't matter. How you doing?"

Nova Black's engines rumble as she ponders. "Swivel. Can't say I've ever met that one." She watches Vortex play idly with the piece of scrap. "What's that you have there?"

"A little bit of the one that got away," Vortex responds, more than a hint of regret in his tone. He notes that Nova hasn't responded to his question, but considering how cautious she was the last time they talked, he doesn't think anything of it. "Fraggin' traitors."

Nova Black's engines rev far louder this time. "Tell me about it." She peers at the sliver with renewed interest. "So that's a piece of that prisoner who escaped and started all the slag in the medbay, then?"

Vortex nods. "I got an optic and a hand too, just no spark chamber." He seems more than a little bitter about this. He stabs the sliver into the bar where it embeds, remaining upright, then he finally takes a swig of his drink. "I was only gone a joor, for frag sake. I went to make a report, I locked the door... And when I got back, nothin'. They'd hit the over-ride and stolen my prisoner. When I get my hands on them, they'll wish they were never created."

Nova Black growls and begins to speak, her optics glowing brightly. But her words become indecipherable hisses of rage. "I can't believe there were so many of them," she snarls, grimacing, when she finally finds her voice again.

"Traitors," Vortex snarls. "His death was /mine/, Megatron gave that to me." He snatches up the sliver and hides it away. "I take it you knew them?" he says.

Nova Black nods. "I knew Robustus. Or I thought I knew Robustus," she corrects herself, her gray hand tightening into a fist. "Shred, I'd never really met. As for Lifeline --" Her engines roar again, so loudly she stops speaking. She doesn't start again, her mouthplates set into a firm line.

"Soundwave had you bring her in, didn't he?" Vortex asks, remembering how tight-lipped Nova had been about Lifeline back then.

"I told him not to!" Nova Black snarls, barely remembering to keep her voice down. "I met with her. I talked to her. She was no more a Decepticon than your little prisoner was. I told Soundwave so." Her wings click in a frantic cadence. "He ordered me to do it anyway. Told me he had it all under control."

Vortex shakes his head in disbelief. It's more than a little unsettling that Soundwave got something wrong. "Good instincts," he comments. "And hot scrap, that's... Frag that's wrong. Unless... If this was a plan to infiltrate the 'bots, they'd have said something, right?"

Nova Black shakes her head. "I don't know what the slag Intel wanted. I'm not one of you sneaky slaggers. I was only there because -- because I wanted to make some connections in Cubicron." Her wings twitch again. That's probably shot to slag now, if anyone knows she's the one who trashed Lifeline's old clinic. Scrap it all. "But yes, Soundwave wanted something. I'm sure of that. Lifeline had an argument with some Autoslag medic a few days before Soundwave sent me out to recruit her. He showed me the recording." She growls, snatching the cube of high-grade the bartender finally brings over to her and taking a long swig. "I'd bet my wings it was all faked, *now*."

Vortex laughs bitterly. "That was Ratchet, my prisoner's boss. Autobot CMO. And Lifeline was itty bitty's mentor. Their showdown wasn't faked." At least, he doesn't think it was, and surely all this has been to gain the gestalt technology? The doubt lasts a while, and it's still a struggle to work out which is more likely - a longer term plan on Megatron and Soundwave's part which no-one else is part to, or Soundwave made a mistake. "We got the intel we were after."

Nova Black mutters, then nods. "Good. At least something came of it other than an empty medbay and some slagging *idiot* 'Cons actin' like they *miss* the traitors..."

"Who?" Vortex says. He doesn't like the idea, and it should be pretty obvious from the tone of his voice.

Nova Black's wings twitch. She was close to the one who said that, just a few quartexes ago. Now none of that matters. "Slipstream," she answers, hissing the name. "Kept sayin' she understood why Robustus would help Shred betray the Empire. Her weapons systems crackle with energy. "I should've slagged her right there."

Quickrazor looks up from the damnable datapad, flickering his optics in irritation. His standards of organization far exceeded that of the...previous command, and it was giving him a massive processor-ache. He walks to the bar for a cube of something cool and calming, noting his friend Nova Black speaking with a rotary...that had to be Vortex, Decepticon interrogator. "Good cycle, Nova Black, and... Vortex, is it?"

"Her," Vortex says. He remembers Slipstream's actions at Shred's execution, and that he'd made a note to keep a watch over her if at all possible. "Yeah," he says, in complete agreement with Nova's sentiment about slagging her. "She needs watching," he says quietly. Then Quickrazor's greeting registers. "Hey," he says casually. "Quickrazor, right?"

Quickrazor nods. "Yes. /Who/ needs watching, if I may ask?" His tone is soft, curious even.

Nova Black nods to Quickrazor, grinning. "Good cycle, Doc." Nice to see a 'Con with some spark. Who is... less creepy than the rotary. Or... who seems to like her more, anyway.

"Laserbeak was watching her," she says to Vortex. "I commed her to reminded her to report it all to Soundwave. She said she was on it already. Of course."

"She would be," Vortex says to Nova. Then, to Quickrazor, "Everyone." He grins, and downs the rest of his high grade.

Quickrazor snorts. "If one sees traitors in every corner you glitch worse than an Autobrat with an electrical surge." He notes that the barkeep is moving especially slowly today. "In all seriousness, who should I be most wary of? You? Knifepoint? Everything that flies?" Quickrazor is obviously joking with this last statement.

"Slipstream," Nova answers, snorting a bit at Vortex's non-answer. "Friend of the traitor who was our CMO before you came here."

Quickrazor stops. Slipstream? The magenta-opticed femme who seemed passive for her kind? "Her? She seems too.../kind/.." and it is clear that Quickrazor does not consider this a redeeming quality - "..too passive for anything serious."

Vortex flashes Nova a grin, and pushes away from the bar. "Gonna go shoot some scrap," he says. He gives Quickrazor a scrutinising look as he passes. "You better not be soft like the last one." Then he's gone.

Nova Black grins. "That's the one. And you have *no* idea." Her engines rumble.

Quickrazor snorts. "Not likely, copter. Save me a few pieces next time you get yourself a 'bot."

"What do you mean?" Quickrazor turns fully towards Nova, very interested in what she has to say. The stool beneath him creaks as he settles.

"I mean she's a soft-sparked *idiot*, is what I mean. If you'd been around a little later, when that party of yours went all to the Pit, you would have heard her admit it all herself. She was spark-bonded to some grounder a long time ago." She snorts. "He left her. Deserted. Hasn't been seen since." Her faceplates twist into a deep scowl. "Instead of getting angry, she got soft instead. Pathetic."

Nova Black sighs. "I didn't realize it at first. Thought she'd eventually come around. But no, that's just the way she is, it seems." Her wings twitch -- there are things she swore to Slipstream she wouldn't reveal, and she does have some honor, after all. But Slipstream herself mentions her old paramour all the time, and there's nothing she's just said that she hasn't heard Slipstream talk to other Decepticons about.

Quickrazor nods. "There is nothing inherently soft in the act of sparkbonding, Nova Black. Quite the opposite. I hesitate to think of the stigma of a Seeker bound to a full groundpounder, though." He sips from his long-awaited cube and steeples his fingers thoughtfully. "I know she arrived to celebrate with us. She seems to have honorable intentions toward me...but from what I have observed, she is /soft/. Especially for a weapon of the skies."

Nova Black's engines rumble. "You're misunderstanding me, Doc. I don't care that she was sparkbonded. And I sure as slag don't care what frame type she picked. There's no point to that. As long as she's not binding her spark to some piece of Autoslag it doesn't matter at all to me. But he left her, and all she can do is pine for him."

Quickrazor almost laughs. "I suppose that after being dropped like overheated slag, she really ought to have taken him apart piece by piece...but from my impressions I don't believe her capable of that. Surely that is not your only reason for believing this of her, though...pining over lost love /is/ pointless enough, but woukd that alone be enough to enrage you?"

Nova Black's optics narrow. "No, that's just enough to annoy me. She was --" she pauses for a moment, considering how personal to make this -- "she was close with the two traitors, like 'Tex and I were sayin'. When Megatron executed Shred for her treachery, she rushed over toward her dying frame like she wanted to *comfort* her, or something." She pulls a face, her tanks roiling in disgust.

Quickrazor nods. "I saw that. For a moment, because I did not know them, I thought they were quite closer than friends. And such a display was, in my optics, quite unwise. Slipstream's loyalties seem to go toward those she cares for, rather than her faction...?" It's clear that this is a question. "From my position, Slipstream /did/ comfort Shred as she offlined."

Nova Black nods. "Yes, yes she did. But that's what I'm saying -- it's not just that her mooning made me wanna purge my tanks. It's that that's the ways she is. To the point where she'd do -- that." She twitches her wings. "I don't wanna say it's the kind of thing an Autobot would do -- even Slippy deserves more credit than that. But it's *disgusting*." She looks down. "To think, I ever --"

Quickrazor cocks an eyeridge. "To think you ever what?" Quickrazor is genuinely curious- he doesn't think she means she showed similar weakness, not /this/ Seeker.

Quickrazor stops, realuzing something. He doesn't use them, ever, but... "Slippy?"

Nova Black frowns. Slag it, what the hell was she letting slip out? "I was new," she says finally. "I -- I come from the middle of nowhere. Comin' here, to Polyhex and all, where High Command is, where *Megatron* is -- I -- I was nervous." She twitches her wings. "I wanted allies, 'Cons close to me in rank that I could watch. Learn from, if I could. I had no slagging *idea* how our personalities would clash back then."

Quickrazor resists the really, really odd urge to try and comfort the Seeker femme. What the slag is he /thinking/? His faceplates twitch, strangely, and he says aloud, I understand the desire for allies, as I share it. I am still unsure of my own place in this Army, though with yesterday's festivities it's less worrisome than it once was. Seekers also tend to group together- it's latent programming." He flickers his optics. "She was a friend."

Nova Black snorts. "Seekers tend to group together? Hah, maybe you should ask my old team about that." That thought brings up a few memories, and her optics flicker for a moment before she looks back at Quickrazor. "But yes, she and I were allies for a while. Stormfront was recruiting Seekers to act as an escort wing for him in battle, and Slipstream offered me a place in it."

Quickrazor nods slowly. "She recognized you as useful to her. And during this, you came to know her...or thought you did. And then learned differently. Is my assessment correct?"

"Useful, hah!" Nova snorts. "She'd actually be actin' like a 'Con if she thought of it that way. I think she was looking more for someone to talk to -- about things like that sparkbond. I put up with it for a while. I liked her back then." Her faceplates twist wryly. "Or thought I did before I realized just how deep it went. Anyway, she offered me a place in that escort -- as a member of a new trine. That she would lead."

Quickrazor cocks his head. "You are not in a trine bond?" Quickrazor thought that most Seekers chose to as a matter of culture and choice. "You...would not suit each other."

Nova Black's optics flicker. "I've never had a trine, no." Her wings flutter and she takes a sip of her drink. "I was honored by the offer. Even today, I might be. But I -- let's say I -- don't do well under someone's leadership if I can't respect it." She scowls. "I said yes at first, because I felt so slagging flattered. But as soon as I did, she started actin' all high and mighty, getting into my business and telling me it would reflect badly on the trine if I handled my own problems." She hisses. "And this was, of course, before we'd ever sealed any bond. There was nothing yet to reflect badly *on*!"

Quickrazor just stares. "Then she was a fool to try and control you in that way." Quickrazor doesn't know the ins and outs of a trine bond, not intimately, but he can guess. "One must first earn respect before one spouts orders."

Nova Black chuckles. "You can say that again, Doc. One of the things she flipped out about was a fight I had with Skywarp. He was up to his usual slag, only this time he was painting the barracks with paint he'd stolen from Iacon." Her optics narrow. "I didn't think Autobot paint around the barracks I recharge in was funny. We got into it, and eventually I threw the can of paint at him. Didn't even attack him, just threw a can of paint at him so it would splatter all over him. Fair enough, right?" She laughs again, mirthlessly. "Well, Slippy told me I had no right to do that -- a day after she and I had beat him up *together* for torquing us off." She huffs. "It was all about throwin' her weight around... and this coming from someone not even 'Con enough to give up her ridiculous soft spot for *known traitors.* No, we 'would not suit each other.' Heh."

Quickrazor snorts. "She dressed you down for /throwing paint/?" He laughs then, a rich sound that came from his center. "After you two beat him up, even. It indeed sounds as if she is truly in conflict, and that you would be better served by taking your alliances elsewhere. Your talk of her known association with traitors also bothers me, but on a more personal level." He stares almost through Nova. "I am loyal to the Empire, to my function, and to myself. In no way will you ever have to be concerned that I am selling your secrets to the enemy."

Nova Black snickers. "Oh believe me, Doc, I'm not interested in having anything to do with her again. I find it --" she winces "-- unfortunate that Stormfront wanted her leading his escort after she pulled that slag, and that I haven't heard any evidence that he reconsidered after it all went kaboom. But that's not my call, that's Stormfront's. And anyone in High Command's who hears what she was saying in the Tina last night after you left." She smiles, looking much more herself than she has for a while tonight. "*That,* I know is happening. Laserbeak was there... and I told her to take it all to Soundwave."

Quickrazor makes a double take. "It was that serious, Nova?" Quickrazor has a fair idea that she's no tattletale- if she felt Soundwave needed to be involved, than it really was serious. He tries to make light of it, though, preferring to see the femme pleased rather than torqued. He quickly rationalized that as a strong desire to keep dents out of his own frame. "Then I suppose that training with her is /not/ a wise idea?"

"Serious enough I almost shot her, if that's what you're asking," Nova answers coldly. "But I don't kill other 'Cons. At least, not any more. Not unless they're actually going against the best interests of the Empire, rather than getting all soft-sparked over others who did. Make of that what you will, Doc."

Quickrazor smiles briefly, wondering what 'Con she /did/ kill to make that statement. That drifted into the realms of very personal, though, and he had no real need to know...yet. "Then leave those decisions to our superiors. I, for myself, will watch...but if it as you say, and I've no reason to doubt you, I should probably distance myself from her. Too bad, really- I'd have liked to learn her set of dirty tricks with that lariat."

Nova Black grins. "Learning from her doesn't necessarily mean respecting her, Doc. Though if you do agree with me -- and it certainly sounds like you do -- I'm not sure you could stand her for all that long." She pulls out the little vial he gave her the other day. "And you've got your own methods of immobilizing anyway. Unless you're trying to tell me this stuff doesn't actually work."

Quickrazor smirks. "Oh, it works. I don't suggest sticking yourself with it unless you /like/ being forcibly immobilized for a couple joor." Was that a twinkle in his optics? "Still, my methods require that I be effectively /on/ an opponent, and despite my size, I've never learned to use it effectively. My strength is my mind. I recognize that a sharp object /can/ level the field, though."

Nova Black smirks. "When did I say I was thinking of testing it on *myself*, exactly?"

Quickrazor laughs. "You didn't. I hope you wouldn't, anyway...I'd /hate/ to have to carry you to the repair bay for the antidote."

Nova Black's optics flare. "Heh. Not likely," she laughs. "But if you *were* saying it hadn't been tested, I'd say it would only be fair to test it on the one who cooked it up."

Quickrazor looks wary. "I think not. I don't self-experiment." He eyes her hands intently, hoping not to see the violet glow of daggers.

Nova Black notices Quickrazor looking at her hands. "Probably wise. But now that you say that, I might just have to test it sometime." She grins. "Maybe the next time 'Warp pulls his slag? Hmmmm..."

Quickrazor smiles. "Don't waste it on /him/, besides, wouldn't you face consequences for poisoning a member of the Trine that commands the Seeker forces? If that happened, I'd not get the chance to learn from /you/."

Quickrazor unbidden, he notes almost silently, "Your hands...are very delicate, for a warrior's."

Nova Black shrugs. "Depends. If they caught me, they'd be torqued. 'Warp himself might think it was funny, depending on how long it lasted. He thought sparring with me was 'awesome' even though I stabbed him." She puts it away again. "But you're right -- using it for pranks like he would is a waste."

Quickrazor nods. "I can make more, but it, like anything else worth doing, takes time and effort." Quickrazor glances at Nova's faceplates, wondering who had had the temerity to take her optics and just how many pieces that mech happened to be in afterward. Still, she didn't look like a carbon-copy, fresh from the line Seeker. Different, he decided. "I am...glad I put down this damnable inventory...speaking with you was far more enjoyable." What the slag was he /doing/, tripping over his words like a youngling with a mouthful of energon candy. He clears his intake and looks away, feeling something quite unfamiliar...embarrassment?

Nova Black catches Quickrazor looking at her and narrows her optics. But what he says isn't the usual prying into her personal business. In fact, it's a compliment. That's something she hasn't heard in a while. "I like talking to you too, Doc. Very glad to see those traitors replaced by someone who -- understands how things should be, here." She hesitates, as if there's something else she wants to say. But what would that be, exactly? "Thanks for staring at me without staring at me?" That would open up exactly the topic of conversation she's glad Quickrazor is avoiding. And considering what happened the *last* time she told someone...

Quickrazor nods, breaking his rather odd train of thought. "Oh. Definitely." His speech is only just barely rushed, perceptible only if one were paying fairly close attention. His processor supplied another few words that could be used to describe Nova Black but he crushed them ruthlessly...he really didn't need to look like more of an aft than he'd already managed. "I...would you? Teach me to use a blade, that is. I don't /have/ one, my weaponry is limited in scope as a lot of my systems are dedicated to search-and-recovery, but..." Quickrazor muted it in a hurry. Yes, he was babbling. How undignified. He forced a neutral expression, then.

Nova Black smirks. "Teach you? Thought I'd already offered. She transforms her hands and holds her blades up -- clearly showing, not threatening. "But keep in mind that I was built with these. It's a little different, holding something. Strange. Unnatural. I don't like it. But I did teach Echo some things about using a sword, and that seemed to go well. So I'll -- do what I can for you too, Doc." Her wings click. "Primus knows you just might need it."

Quickrazor nods. You did, but I did mean specifically with something like that." He reaches out with two fingers, admiring the edge, wanting to see what it felt like, and offering that respect, too- and hoping that she doesn't stab him for his presumption. "Deadly and beautiful..." he says before thinking. "Much like their wielder." When Quickrazor realizes just what slag fell out of his vocaliser, he shuts his mouth with an almost audible 'click'. *You are an /idiot/, mech.* he thinks, though his face betrays his thoughts only barely.

Nova Black's optics widen as Quickrazor reaches out to touch her weapons. That's a *very* intimate gesture, especially among the military builds, and no one's done it to hers, not in a *very* long time. Her engines rumble, wary, but to her own surprise she makes no move to stop him.

Then she hears his comment and her engine sputters. She's decked -- or stabbed -- mechs and femmes alike for calling her pretty. She *isn't* pretty -- or doesn't think she is, anyway. Not with her marred face and her frame pitted with scars from fight after fight that she never bothers to buff out or polish away.

"The deadly part I'll give you," she grunts, trying to sound noncommittal. "Not so sure about the other, though."

Quickrazor is so very gratified not to be picking himself up off the ground after that little stunt. He knew damned well what he had been doing, and she would have had every right to stop him....but she didn't. That in and of itself was surprising. Quickrazor knew that she'd deny her beauty, after all, she did not shine, gleam, and the evidence of long hard battle scuffed her frame. He wasn't sure how he was going to explain this. "Nova Black. I did not mean in the vapid, traditional sense. You are the essence of what this Army should be. The pits, the scars, all of it...a testament to your willingness to give all that you are for what you believe in. That is true beauty." His optics flicker queerly, as if he had more to say, but doesn't.

Nova Black pulls her daggers away slowly, her wings twitching. "Give everything for what I believe in," she repeats, suddenly quiet. "I would, *now.* But -- there's a lot you don't know, Quickrazor. I wasn't always -- the way I am now."

She stops. What the slag is she saying? The last 'Con she said *any* of this to was Slipstream... and at least then they'd been trading secrets. Why admit to any of it when someone's *complimenting* her, for scrap's sake? Even if he *is* starting to sound ridiculous.

Quickrazor tilts his helm at her, almost as if committing her features to memory. It takes only a couple of nanokliks, and the image was fixed. "We all change over time. For whatever reason. But your convictions, I believe, have always been that which has guided you." He knew he was skating a thin edge, that this femme was /not/ like even his guardian was, that she kept everything about herself close until necessary. The fact that she'd allowed him the liberties she had spoke volumes. "Then we should meet for training, relatively soon. In your opinion, what would suit me best?" He was genuinely curious, having received only the most basic of ranged training, and almost none for melee.

Nova Black smiles at that. "Yes, there is that. I -- did all that I did because I believed the others around me were wrong." She flares out her wings, showing off her brands. By now, they probably don't look new, not after all the beatings she's taken -- and given -- since her upgrade, but that doesn't matter. "And in the end, it led me right back here. Where I belong." Her wings twitch. "Hell, maybe someday I'll even tell you what happened."

She studies his frame, analyzing its structure. "Hm. Fighter I may be, but I'm not actually a trainer. That would be Softspark, funnily enough. Or Stormfront -- if you can find him. But from what I can tell -- you're big, but light enough and agile enough that you move fast for your size. I'd say that would make you a terror with a heavy blade once you knew what to do with it." She transforms one of her hands, mimicking holding a blade with it, and gives a feral little grin. Sparring is one of her favorite things, after all. "Strong enough to wield it, fast enough to make up for the weight slowing down your striking speed." Her optics brighten. "Meet me in the hall of arms two nights from now. We'll pick a weapon for you then and I'll teach you what I know. And spar with you. When you're ready for me, that is." She grins again, obviously looking forward to it.

Quickrazor smiles, then, at her assessment. "Nova Black, I will be ready for whatever you give me...though I suspect that at least in the beginning, it will be me lying at your pedes with several new markings. Every dent a lesson, every cut a story." He raises his cube in her direction. "To our alliance. Even if you may be needed to help put me back together after you wipe the floor with my frame."

"To our alliance," Nova echoes, raising her cube. She clinks it against Quickrazor's, brings it back to her mouth, and drinks deeply from it. Her spark crackles at his description of the sparring -- those, also, are intimate words, and she can tell they mean more than what they say. "Don't worry, Doc. I'll pick you back up again after I'm done." She smirks. "Though I'm afraid you're on your own about the repairs, unless you get along better with NPandemiC than with Knifepoint."

Quickrazor shudders. "Can I walk you through it? I'd rather have a glitched drone work on my internals than that...mech Knifepoint, and I don't trust NPandemiC, either. Or you might hold a mirror for me."

Nova Black laughs. "The mirror's probably your best bet, Quickrazor. I had to give my old team's medic field repairs once. I -- don't think I did very well at it, I'm afraid." She holds up her dagger, watching it gleam purple in the dim light of the bar. "Much better at breaking 'em than fixing 'em. Can't say that I mind."

Quickrazor almost reaches again, fascinated by the purple glow. He stops himself, though- he has made his intentions crystal clear already, and anything more is pushing his luck. He still has a hard time looking away, though. "As much as I enjoy your company, my work has been delayed long enough. Those...traitors left the inventory in disgrace. It's amazing anything can be found. Two cycles, Nova Black." He reaches, then, running a single fingertip over her untransformed hand.

Nova Black feels the fingertip moving along her hand and shivers slightly. The touch is gentle, something she hasn't felt in years, and for a moment the strangeness of it throws her. Then she moves her hand and grabs for him, trapping his silver fingers in her darker, weathered hand and squeezing. Hard. It's a risky move, even now that she's sure of his intentions, but if she meant to harm him, she would have gone for the dagger. Or broken his fingers. And if she meant to tell him off, she would have done that, too.

"Two cycles," she hisses, still holding his fingers in a tight grip. "And remember to be faster next time." Then she lets go, smirking, her optics gleaming bright crimson as she looks straight back at him.

Quickrazor contains his wince with some effort. Pit, she was strong. What she hadn't done said more than what she had, though... He bows slightly, nodding. "I will remember that."

Nova Black smirks. "Good. I'm looking forward to it, Doc." She opens and closes her fist again a few times, as if remembering the feel of his fingers in her grip. Then she turns away abruptly, suddenly extremely engrossed in the dirt smudges and old energon stains on the table in front of her.

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