[Open]

[tsunclonus]

Who: Cyclonus and YOU!
When: Between the 18th and the 24th (pre-Scraplets)
Where: Cargo Bay/Hallways/Observation Deck
What: Cyclonus gets his mail, starts doing his job, and tries to be a better boyfriend.
Warnings: Gay robots. (Will update as needed)


Cargo Bay, 18th

Cyclonus has received a message about a package waiting for him, and has made his way to the cargo bay to retrieve it. He opens the large crate first, and much to his relief it's the energon he requested. The rest of the Cybertronians will be pleased to hear that they can relax the energon rationing somewhat.

He's surprised by the second, smaller crate. He didn't request anything else. Pulling off the lid, however, his jaw actually drops. If anyone approaches, he'll be quickly pressing the cover back into place.


Hallways - Various

Following the shipment of energon received on the 18th, Cyclonus has decided to actually start doing his job. With the energy available now to project his holoform, the Moira's crew will find a tall, dark-skinned, red-eyed, and purple-haired woman prowling the hallways, wearing something that looks like an odd amalgamation of his usual holo dress and his appropriate Moira uniform.

He's busy getting a better sense of the ship's layout in order to plan evacuation routes and it's much easier to get around when you're the size of a human, so his holomatter avatar can be found all over the ship.


Observation Deck - Semi-closed to Tailgate

It took him awhile to work up his courage and set aside his pride, but several days after the mail drop, Tailgate will receive a simple message in his inbox from Cyclonus:

Meet me on the Observation Deck

Comments

[daintylegs]

Oooh, that was different and intriguing! Tailgate instantly abandoned his craft projects and drove all the way to the observation deck, his mind racing through all the possible reasons Cyclonus would send for him. Was someone dying? Did someone new somehow arrive? Or maybe Cyclonus just wanted to spend time with him. He seemed more intent on doing that lately.

"Cyclonus!" Tailgate said as he motored into the observation deck. This was a creepy place when you were alone, but it was alright with someone else. He transformed and walked excitedly up to his friend. "You wanted to see me?"

[tsunclonus]

"Tailgate," Cyclonus says, greeting his friend as warmly as he ever does, having turned from the view at the sound of Tailgate's engine.

His holomatter avatar is crouched over something off to one side, and after a moment the opening notes of The Power of Love ring out across the empty deck. With a soft smile, Cyclonus holds out his hand.

"I owe you a dance."

[daintylegs]

Tailgate could have died right there and then and he would have had no regrets in life. His optics light up with pure delight. He knew that song! It was the same song he tried to get Cyclonus to dance to before. He faintly recalled Getaway taking that dance instead because Cyclonus had been an old numpty about it.

Things were different now, and Tailgate tried to approach it as dignified as possible.

"Yes you do." He said, walking up to the other bot and taking the outstretched hand.

[tsunclonus]

Cyclonus very distinctly recalls Getaway stealing that dance... right out from under his nose as he grudgingly prepared to accept. That's part of the reason he had made himself do this after the record and record player showed up unexpectedly for him.

He had a lot to make up for. And given the look on Tailgate's face, it will be completely worth it. The utter happiness in his optics makes Cyclonus's spark flutter.

He doesn't actually know how to dance, at least not the way these darn young people do, but he knows some of the old dances of Cybertron that he can at least try to lead Tailgate through, never mind whether or not it fits with the music or that their height difference makes things a little awkward.

Holding that little white hand tight, he tugs it up and tries to twirl his friend closer.

[daintylegs]

He allows himself to be twirled closer and does his novel best not to trip over his own feet. His thoughts go instantly to all the human romance movies he's seen in the past, and he feels like this scene was in at least four of them. The thought makes him super giddy and nervous. Does Cyclonus feel the same way? Should he ask?

"This is nice." Tailgate says as he follows Cyclonus through a dance that doesn't match the music. He doesn't care though, it's Cyclonus himself that's the most important bit. "Where'd you learn to dance?"

cargo bay

[knaval]

Riptide hadn't seen what was in the second crate, but had been in watching nearby. He'd opened his own little piece of mail earlier and had the box under his arm.

"Heeey Cyc-lonus," he says in a sing-song tone. He almost said the Forbidden Nickname, but remembers at the last second it was not approved.

"What's in the box, buddy? You look a bit shocked. Is it something... lewd?"

Re: cargo bay

[tsunclonus]

Oh for- did it have to be Riptide? Cyclonus internally curses his instinct to cover it up. It would have been less suspicious to just keep looking.

"No," he says sharply (and what do Cybertronians find lewd anyway? Shiny-waxed sports cars sensuously entwining fingers?).

"It's- I believe there's been a mistake, it's not mine."

It has to be a coincidence that a vinyl copy of The Power of Love - plus record player - would find its way to him. It's just chance that it happens to have emotional significance to him... Maybe it was meant for Tailgate!

[knaval]

"Oh. It's not? What is it, then?"

Yes, Cyclonus. Riptide.

"Can I see?" he asks, casually strolling over.

[tsunclonus]

Cyclonus is tempted to snap at Riptide and tell him to mind his own business. But that would only make him more curious and make it look like he actually cares about the contents of the box. Which he doesn't. Why would he. Stop judging.

So he lifts the lid and sets it aside. "Human music."

There's a record player on one side and a stack of albums on the other, The top cover is for The Power of Love.

[beautifulspaceraptor]

Nihlus is on his way back to his room when he crosses paths with Cyclonus.

And then he kind of just stops.

Out of all the Citadel races, the turians weren't exactly the sharpest with their noses, sitting somewhere between the elcor and the asari in regards to their ability to sniff things out.

It was still better than a human's sense of smell though, and it was enough to catch the fact that the woman, decked out in makeup and clothes that should absorb a lot of smells- kind of just smelled like nothing.

Turning, Nihlus watches her walk down the hallway, has a moment of internal debate, and then shrugs before trotting on over.

"Hi, I'm Nihlus," he says by way of greeting. She didn't look like the handshake sort and he refrains on that front.

[tsunclonus]

Cyclonus pauses in his stern perusal of the hallways to give Nihlus a look over. Ah, one of the non-human organics on the ship. He almost feels a kindred with them despite their biological makeup by sheer merit of being part of the non-human minority on the vessel.

"Cyclonus," he offers in return, setting the tip of his pointer on the floor - had he been carrying that earlier? - and folding his hands neatly over the other end.

[beautifulspaceraptor]

Cyclonus? The big fellow from the network?

Figures they might be moving around with smaller bodies, but he hadn't expected them to look human.

"You must be the Evacuation Specialist." Nihlus' eyes drift down to the pointer with a blink. That definitely hadn't been there before.

"I'm Ingress Security. I suppose we'll be working together."

[tsunclonus]

Sorry Nihlus. Everything is humans for some reason.

(He could actually have a non-human avatar if he wanted, but when most of the crew is human there's not much point.)

"I am," Cyclonus says with a small nod. He respects that Nihlus not only remembers his name and position, but seems to take his appearance in stride. Good traits in a security officer.

"I suppose there is some overlap in our jobs. Though I would have preferred yours if given the choice."

Hallways!

[notglitching]

While he keeps a close enough eye on the network, Rinzler doesn't bother trying to keep watch over every new import wandering the halls. Especially every user. While the sheer impracticality of the outfit gets a glance, Rinzler's just as inclined to pass it by and continue his own patrol. Not a threat. Not relevant.

The brush of code in proximity goes a long way to change that. The enforcer stops sharply, black mask twitching toward the shape as his constant whirring rattle skips. It's not the deep-embedded signature of those AI installed in human bodies—they hadn't even flagged without a closer examination. It also doesn't feel as substantial as the reploids. Almost as if...

The program's stare stays fixed, no change in sound or posture. But if Cyclonus is capable of detecting the intrusion, he might feel the light press of an active scan. Somebody's fishing for data.

[tsunclonus]

The sensation is a metaphorical prickle on the back of Cyclonus's neck, sort of like the feeling you get when someone is watching you intently. It's remote from his body, coming through the link with his avatar.

His red-eyed gaze snaps around to the nearest possible source, glaring over his spectacles at Rinzler. And what is this? Humanoid in size and shape, but whether human or mechanoid isn't immediately apparent.

What he definitely is, is rude.

"Excuse me," he snaps, voice coming out husky and with some generic mix of British and Middle Eastern accents.

[notglitching]

If the circuit lights through Rinzler's armor don't give enough away, the rumbling whir sounds distinctly mechanical in nature. Also distinctly wrong. It's the sound of misalignment, a hard drive skipping just a beat with each spin. Or, in this case, the code itself conflicting.

Still, there's no sign of distress in the enforcer's bearing—not even at that irritated snap. Rinzler's helmet quirks a little to the side, though it's hard to tell if the behavior is an answer or just interest. Certainly the data he's receiving is bizarre. The structure feels like the simulations of the training room, but the code itself isn't anything he knows how to interpret. It doesn't even feel properly written... though there's a familiarity to that somewhere. How?

Sorry, Cyclonus. That sense of examination isn't fading in the least.

[tsunclonus]

Honestly, it can be hard to tell the difference between an non-organic humanoid and an organic in a machine suit, even with the mechanical noises Rinzler's making. The gross noises Rinzler's making. Like phlegmy wheezy breathing to a human.

Of course, organic or not, that doesn't excuse rudeness and Cyclonus's brow furrows. Producing a long pointer from origins unknown, he snaps it out with calculated skill to try and lay a stinging blow against Rinzler's featureless cheek. Just enough force for a painful top, not enough to actually damage or even move his head if it makes contact.

"Whatever you're doing, you will cease immediately."

hallways

[unyieldinghope]

It's while X is wandering the ship in his own curiosity (and a similar desire to map it out) that he winds up staring for a second until memory and visual sort themselves out and he realises no, that isn't Layer, but there's definitely a woman onboard the ship who resembles one of the Hunter navigators he's been working with, somewhat? In terms of basest design aspects, anyway, and it'd been the height and colour palette that caught him first.

That doesn't, unfortunately, happen in time to keep him from calling out. It's only a half-formed sound, not even a name or anything, just. Well, it's just shy of "bwuh?", if only because it's too hard to say "bw" right as he's processing, and something else hits him and interrupts, which makes it all the more obvious it isn't Layer while being no less baffling.

"Ah?" Please have a much smaller than your usual robot, Cyclonus, because X's just tilting his fluffy head in confusion, here. Something about the way she "reads"--not literally, because he doesn't even try scanning (there's been no introduction of any kind, yet, and he finds it rude to "ask" about someone even superficially before that), but in the way that when he passes by a human, there's just this inherent difference from when he passes by a mechaniloid, Reploid, or Zero. Not bad or good or really anything other than a detection of something made differently. It's the same with holograms. And this is... well, equally strange, because his systems can't quite place what his field picks up with any of those.

[tsunclonus]

Cyclonus has been paying little attention to the people he passes in the halls, save for the ones that choose to engage him first Tailgate would be disappointed in him.

In this case, X's noises of bewilderment count. Cyclonus turns to stare at him quizzically over the small pair of glasses. When he speaks, his voice is that of a human woman, deep and husky, and accented in a fashion reminiscent of both Victorian England and the Middle East. "Is something wrong?"

[unyieldinghope]

Okay, stable enough to speak, present enough to react and interact...? That read is making no sense.

"Oh, it... I thought you were someone else." For about a fraction of a second, though that's clearly not the only thing. X rubs at the corner of his eye, like it'll lessen the confusion in his systems (and the resulting dull throb in his head). And, well, okay it's going to bother him, at this rate, but: "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but what exactly are you?" That is definitely a touch of heat at his cheeks. Yes, he does in fact feel that bad for asking, especially considering he can't quite stand still, hands animated and weight shifting from one foot to the other every few seconds. "I keep running loops because none of the categories I recognise seem to fit, and I know there are species and peoples on this ship that don't fall under what I'm programmed to be aware of so those categories have to expand, but..."

[tsunclonus]

Programmed? Cyclonus peers more closely at what he initially assumed was a human. Some sort of human construct then? How odd. It certainly has a lot to say. He would have been fine answering the question without the explanation. He appreciates bluntness.

"I am a Cybertronian," he says, for all that doesn't explain anything to anyone who doesn't know what a Cybertronian is. "However, this form is merely a projection."

[warandpeace]

☄ Hallways
[Miller is on his way to his training room when he passes the unfamiliar woman. Today is a day for the crutch, and while he's using his prosthetics they do still hurt significantly from time to time. The adjustment period isn't easy.]

[He has no idea that it's Cyclonus. Just gives the pretty lady a once over and a friendly smile.]

Are you new around here? Don't remember seeing you around.

[tsunclonus]

[There's a voice and face that Cyclonus recognizes from the network, for all that Miller doesn't recognize him. Not too surprising given that he usually looks like a giant robot samurai.]

Ah, Miller. We've spoken.

[His voice isn't going to be any more familiar than his current face, his avatar's voice matching its appearance. On the deep end for a woman's voice, cool and husky, accent some nebulous mix of British and Middle Eastern.

Maybe he'll leave Miller guessing for a moment.]

[warandpeace]

[He succeeds in making him stop. Hell, tall, handsome looking woman. Good voice. He'd think he'd remember that. He isn't the flirt that he was in his youth, mostly because of his current physical uncertainties. But he's very much not dead.]

[Zam?]

[No, probably not Zam.]

[He tips his head one way and then the other, just a little, but still looks about as perplexed as a dog shown a card trick.] We have?

[tsunclonus]

[There's the hint of a smirk at the edge of those purple-painted lips.]

We discussed history.

[Then he gives Miller mercy, and holds out a slender hand.]

Cyclonus.