[ooc: Please forgive the brief interaction within the body of the post, with my second character; need a 'Starscream' she can ICly interact with at the moment. ICly, this takes place after Movie Night, during Emo's (my Starscream Muse's) errands mentioned in his recent post, and before this particular thread in Autobot Medbay.]
Slipstream onlines in her berth, her optics take in the hazy, indirect daylight coming through the west-facing window. Her wings perk and angle back, as she props herself up on her elbows. She runs a quick systems status check, as she scans her room. The storm outside seems to finally be letting up.
Slipstream senses her right hand tangled in something and turns away from the window. Even as large as she is, she only occupies about half of the wide berth. She notes her pair of guns at her side, and then some bit of cloth clutched in the sharp talon-like digits of her right hand. The poncho.
Slipstream shifts her weight left and lifts her right hand to shake the poncho from keen fingertips. It reeks of grounder, and specifically of Lockdown. It annoys Slipstream completely that her hand has held onto the thing in recharge. It has absolutely no sentimental value, because she is not sentimental.
As she drops the poncho, Slipstream recalls the night before. First kiss and all that. Not that there had been just a singular kiss. She'd even let him touch her wings! She shivers at the memory of it; a sensation of heat and electricity running through her core.
It is good when they are together. They snark at each other, and she vacillates between following his lead and resisting, but all in all it has become easy. Not stagnant or too comfortable - not by an means - but not genuinely adversarial either. It's like...play. Like sparring instead of battle.
When they are together, she thinks Lockdown is hot. She doesn't mind the kind of road-warmed, oil and rubber, grounder scent. The spikes, mods and tats and that wide grin seem artful, sometimes an expression of rebellious individualism from the factionless bot, and sometimes dark...like Dias de las Muertes...like sugarskulls. Slipstream slides the smooth side of a talon across her dark lips.
She likes the tails and the virtual top hat full of tricks and slick moves. He has great moves. He just makes her feel good. Not just flattered or attractive; other mechs had done that, but that was all they had done, like they had nothing more to bring. Lockdown is confident and experienced, but Slipstream can still surprise him or catch him off guard. She likes that.
Slipstream pushes up from the berth and sits. Now, when she's not with him, there is this 'morning after' doubt of everything. Logic and critical thinking override the emotional subroutines. She wonders what she is doing and why. Why is one trying to climb the Decepticon ranks spending time with the neutral grounder at all? And there is the fact that he is a bounty hunter, even hunted her kin, who, by the way, do not particularly approve.
Though, Wasp and Terrorsaur are adopted kin, allies and confidants; and they seem to approve of Slipstream having fun with whomever she choses. And it is fun. Not like love. Not like what she had felt for Starscream.
Slipstream sits in her berth, very still, realizing that she really meant that in the past tense. That strong feeling that made her crazy, if that was love, had faded. He had not been replaced. She does not have that same maddening feeling for anyone else. She just...realizes that crazy intensity has gone.
And, that had been the point of just going out and having fun, like Terrorsaur had adviced. Not to find someone to be serious about, necessarily, not to replace him, but just to know she could have happiness without him.
Slipstream grabs her guns and the poncho and slips from her berth. She walks to the door of her private room and enters the public space of her penthouse. It is, she knows, like the other penthouses in the building, with the exception that she has brought in additional devices to create her home office.
She hangs the poncho just inside the door, then walks back toward the door to the washroom. Slipstream programs the large basin to fill with solution of water and solvents. She hears the ping from the door to the penthouse. No incoming comms.
Slipstream leaves the basin to fill, and mounts her guns to her arms as she walks to the door.
"Who is it?"
"Starscream...eh...the one that-"
The tenant, Slipstream decides, obvious from his voice. She opens the door and looks at him. "Well, if it isn't Sorrow the Not-so-Gay Blade! I just got up from recharge. What do you want?"
Starscream pouts. "I have no idea what you are speaking about. I brought your swords back." He presents a long cloth-wrapped bundle, which Slipstream presumes is the swords.
"You want to come in for a klik?"
"That is a length of time?" Starscream asked, "Sometimes I have trouble..."
"With your translation protocols, yeah." Slipstream pulls the door wider to admit her recent tenant and neighbor. She notices Starscream standing, rather staring at her without looking at her face. "Optics are up here!" She waves her sharp digits in the area of her faceplate.
Starscream smirks. "Does everyone but me have jewlery
For a nanocycle, Slipstream has no idea what Starscream is talking about, but then her hand moves to her throat. She is still wearing the choker made from the metal rose Lockdown had given her. She is immediately annoyed, even embarrassed. It isn't like other jewelry
...some token of ownership. No one owns her! She is free and certainly has not given Lockdown any particular allegiance, hasn't been beaten in combat by him. She can remove her jewelry at any time.
When she turns from putting the choker on her desk, Starscream is still smirking at her, his optics tracking to the poncho hanging near the door as he enters.
"Oh! Like you're one to talk!" Slipstream accuses. Of course, since Megatron really did make this alternate
his Second in the stead of her creator, and she no longer has enough brothers to make a power play to gain any autonomy from Megatron, she's rather stuck below this sad mech in the chain of command and can't very well talk about what she does know.
"I am going back to the Cave."
"I still wish to retain the penthouse."
Slipstream glances at the bundle he still holds. She extends her hands to take them and unwraps the bundle. The pair of Cybertronian swords she had found are beautifully restored. The mech knows swords. "This settles us to date," she says, the restoration of the blades being the modest price for his stay. "You know what it will cost you to retain the place."
"Regular lessons. You wish to learn how to handle swords
." His right optic shutters briefly in a wink.
"Get fragged, Starscream!" As soon as Slipstream says the name she puts her hand to her mouth. No dreamy sing-song sigh!
"Are we on so familiar terms, now?"
"Starscream." It sounds just like any other name.
Slipstream makes a smirky smile; she really is getting over him. "Just the lessons."
"You shouldn't play so hard to get."
"Excuse me, but I think I know what can happen if one offers themself to another too soon." She probably has more pre-installed knowledge of Megatron than this mech has from experience.
Starscream looks at her curiously, tipping his head cutely. "Depends what you offer and to whom, but not offering at all is not really better."
"I've made offers."
Maybe not. It is more Slipstream waits until one she is interested in is with another and then complains about it. Otherwise, she waits for offers to come to her. "It's not my nature to be forward like that. Anyway, others should come to me!"
"If someone gave me jewelry, I would consider that a fairly clear offer. Why wear it in the first place, if you did not wish to accept that offer?"
"It's complicated. You don't understand." The faction has standards, dosen't it? She'd berated her own creator viciously for taking up with....she doesn't want to see how very like him she was. Maybe she doesn't love
him in that mad way, but she doesn't want him to win
; to be right
. His slaggin' alternate was taking his side! "Besides, why does everyone else need to know?"
"Why would you not
want them to know you are capable of attracting others?"
Good question, not that she is going to admit it. It isn't that she doesn't want others, in general, to know she is capable of attracting someone. It is more she doesn't yet feel right about letting everyone know who. Maybe there is an element of shame related to the difference in faction and profession, but that was not the whole of it. Maybe it is the potential for public humiliation as well as private rejection, if others knew. "Not your business," she says. "You need to leave. I was going to take a bath."
Starscream stretches and then folds his arms behind his head and just looks smug.
Slipstream does not even comment; she can just imagine he is thinking about how he is going to get dirty again. "Goodbye, Starscream
She closes the door on him, confirms that it is locked, and goes directly to her washroom. The large basin has filled as programmed. She removes her guns from their mounts and set them nearby as she slips into the bath. Decadent, maybe, but whoever actually created the infrastructure around here failed a bit on power systems at the Facility, but made certain large quantities of clean wash water were always available in the residential buildings.
Slipstream soaks in the bath, thinking. Maybe Starscream had a point; she hadn't been straightforward about her intentions, preferring - she could guess why - to use guile, and it had all rather failed. She hadn't really known any positive results of that attachment in order to know whether the risks were worth it. She had risked...but too late, and received no reward for it. Everything with Starscream, her Starscream, has been pointless failure and ultimately not worth the effort, so far as she knows.
But having failed, at least she has some slim data on what not to do.
And what to do this time? About Lockdown. She likes how things are when they are alone together, but she is not comfortable right now with others knowing...judging her, expectantly watching to see if something does or does not happen. It is enough to suffer her own constant wondering.
It's not love, but it is fun. And if she stops, afraid of what others think, then she's a coward, and maybe stupid. Because that would mean losing the good, fun experiences, just to be rid of the uncomfortable ones. She is not stupid.
She needs to decide how much she is willing to risk to have those parts she likes, what she will offer of herself, and what she will accept from others.
She does. [ooc: Slipstream is physically in her quarters. "You" may politely ask for admittance, contact her virtually, or otherwise completely ignore. "You" here meaning any character, basically. music for post La Roux - Bulletproof.]