Casual Conversation

October 17, 2011, 7:49 PM
Back To 2011 Logs
Knifepoint Hookshot Slipstream
(Military Barracks, Polyhex)
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"Fragging piece of slag." The random angry snarls coming from the room Knifepoint shares with some of the other seekers earn a few odd looks from those passing by, but they seem to deem it smarter to ignore the fuming mech. Amazingly, his roommate's belongings and the room itself seems to have escaped most of Knifepoint's wrath, his attention focused on a collection of badly battered parts sprawled over his berth with no regard for who might see them. With an angry huff of his vents, he snatches up a cracked blue optic, glaring at the cluster of metal and glass like its very existence was a personal affront. "This is all your fault." He hisses, debating the merits of hurling it at the wall.
Indeed, the ruckus did not go unnoticed. However, it's a while after a lot of the racket had started that the sleek form of Hookshot, this time in silver and black, with some stylized gradients. He waits a moment before poking his head around the corner, peering at Knifepoint yelling at an optic. His own qhite optics flicker, then a blue film comes down over them, making them appear blue. For now he just observes, but is not doing so stealthily. If anything, he is in plain sight.
Knifepoint glares at the optic for a few long seconds before slamming it down on the berth, engine revving angrily. He moves to pick up another part, this one what appears to be part of a wing, but catches sight of Hookshot in his peripheral vision, stopping the movement to level a hard stare at the glider. "What?" He demands, putting his hands on his hips as he looks Hookshot's new paint job over, more out of habit than interest at the moment. "...I like that better than the sparkles."
Hookshot shrugs and tilts his head to the side. "What? Isn't it obvious? You are swearing up a storm and throwing things, and whilst some have the survival instincts to ovverride curiousity, I do not." He smirks and glances down at himself when he notices Knifepoint giving him a look over. "Mmm, yes, I chose this look because it is much more slimming. The frailer I look, the easier I am to underestimate." He glances back up at Knifepoint. "You don't look terribly chipper."
Knifepoint irritably huffs air out of his vents, dropping his hands off his hips. "My, aren't you the most observant one in army. I don't look 'chipper' because I'm not." He mutters, picking up the optic and subspacing it before beginning to rearrange the parts in a seemingly arbitrary order. "You're a glider, most aren't going to think twice about you as a threat. As you may have noticed, arrogance seems to be the attitude of choice around here, particularly amongst seekers."
Hookshot remains grinning, not seeming irritated or discouraged in the least from the sarcasm. He just crosses his arms and leans against the nearest wall, his optic ridges raised and an amused twinkle in his optics. "I always give things 110," he remarks. "Is this Quickrazor related rage?"
Knifepoint slams one part down particularly hard at that, managing not to put a dent in the berth by a slim margin. "Now whatever would make you think that? I'm absolutely /thrilled/ for our new CMO." He snarls, wings twitching in annoyance. "Of course it is. That fragger doesn't deserve the post, and I'm going to have to deal with his incompetence because of my being medical staff."
Hookshot shrugs his shoulders. "I don't suppose you can just transfer out of medical... but that would not be approved since they are SO understaffed they need everyone they can use... which is what got us Quickrazor in the first place, is it not? Then again... isn't that how we got Robustus who turned traitor? Hmmmm I am sensing a pattern here. Now why didn't someone bring that up?"
"Because no one wanted Psykeout or myself to be CMO." Knifepoint answers dryly, turning over a heavily charred piece of red plating in his hands. "They believed him to be the most competent and the most qualified. Nobody cared about loyalty, so long as the two 'crazy' ones didn't get it." He smiles viciously, dropping the plating back onto his berth with a clang. "They'll just have to learn, I suppose."
Hookshot bens one knee, placing his sole flat against the wll he is leaning against as he watches Knifepoint, arching an optics ridge particularily at the vicious smile and following comment. "It is almost as if they didn't learn the last time they chose proficiency over loyalty and seniority. To be honest, I would have been thrilled to see you as CMO. Besides, you just need to be able to direct the staff there, you don't need to be an expert yourself. That's what over qualified, trumped up cranky upstarts are for. Labour. Following orders."
Knifepoint pauses at that, looking at Hookshot with narrowed optics before laughing quietly. "Isn't that the truth. I can recall perhaps a handful of times the dead traitor ever actually fixed someone. It always passed off the responsibility." He muses, leaning forward to rest his forearms on the berth. "I'm glad at least some mechs acknowledge my competency. Though I was more surprised than anyone at Psykeout's concession." He tilts his helm, picking up a stray bolt and examining it carefully. "Of course, I shall trust Lord Megatron's judgement on this matter. It is his decision, and it's certainly not my place to question him. I am simply... /Concerned/ with our new CMO's motivations. After all, who wouldn't be, following recent events?"
Hookshot smirks, lowering his chin somewhat, casting his still blue-filtered optics up at Knifepoint. "Oh, of course, never question Megatron's judgment... but I would be more loathe to question Soundwave than Megatron, and Soundwave did bring him in. Of course... it would be good for Decepticons to be EXTRA vigilant, especially in internal affairs, considering those same recent events... would you not agree?"
Knifepoint drops the bolt back onto the part it came from, glancing over at Hookshot again and taking in the smirk with wary optics. "I would never question Soundwave either. Nor any of the high command; they have made it to their places for a reason." He says carefully, looking back at the berth and drumming his fingers on it idly. "I agree that we should be wary of any further traitors in our midst, particularly those perhaps... Too bitter about the recent demise of our former medical staffer. It would truly be a shame to lose more Decepticons to such ridiculous ideals. Though, in those cases, we may not be losing true Decepticons."
Hookshot straightens up, lifting his chin. "Might you be referring to Slipstream?"
Knifepoint tilts his head, the drumming stopping momentarily before picking up again. "I didn't say that, now did I?" He answers, dimming his optics as he speaks. "I merely agreed with you that we need to be vigilant against signs of weakness and traitorous behaviour amongst our fellow Decepticons."
Hookshot smirks and nods his head. "Hmm... hm hm hm.... very clever Knifepoint. Keep that up, and you'll continue to keep your edge... not that I need to tell you that." He rolls his shoulders and then gives Knifepoint a knowing glance and a wink of the optic.
Slipstream walks into the barracks. She had a full cycle with all her responsibilities and was quite ready to snag her ration before working on her report follow up.
"Keep what up? I was just having a conversation." Knifepoint responds, though the smirk tugging at his lips contradicts the words. He pushes off the berth, a quick kick to the base activating the controls to the storage area as he starts to gather up the pile of parts. "But far be it from me to deny a compliment when given one. Even if the reason for it isn't very clear." The parts drop into the empty bin with a loud series of clangs, a few bolts bouncing out, and he kneels to grab them.
Hookshot shrugs his shoulders and decides to just leave it. He was sure Knifepoint read him VERY clear, and was wise enough to play dumb. It would seem Hookshot isn't the only one. "Of course. Just a conversation. Anyhow, I suppose I should let you be. After all, what would people think if I were to linger in your quarters?" Hookshot adds with a thick layer of facetiousness. He chuckles lightly and turns to step out, when he chances a glance of Slipstream moving through the corridors.
Slipstream gets her ration, taking a sip from it as she turns and looks around to see who is up and about versus who was recharging. She hms thoughtfully.. did she just hear Hookshot's voice.
Knifepoint chuckles at that, placing the scattered bolts into the bin and pushing it shut again. "What indeed. I can think of a few possible scenarios they'd imagine." Getting back to his feet, he pulls himself easily onto the berth, fishing a datapad out of subspace as he leans back. "Have fun doing... Whatever it is you do." He calls out in lieu of a goodbye.
Hookshot pauses at the entrance, watching Slipstream a moment as she moves in and out of his view through the angles of the corridors. After a few moments eliberation, he plucks himself up, sticking out his chest, rolling back his shoulders, and raising his chin. He steps out with an air of nonchalance towards the cooler.
Slipstream turns her magenta gaze toward the movement and smirks a bit. She keeps her thoughts to herself though as she moves toward her own berth area. She offers the mech a polite nod though as she sips upon her ration.
"Good cycle, Slipstream," Hookshot says in a most pleasant and cordial tone, one-upping her silent nof of greeting and acknowledgement. He flourishes an ornate bow, pausing and stepping aside to let the 'lady' pass by him with ease.
Slipstream's wings quick slightly, neither unfriendly nor friendly.. amused maybe? "Hookshot." she offers then steps into her berth area and picks up her data pad to get to work on those reports.
With pleasantries out of the way, Hookshot turns and grabs himself a ration, and with quick, short steps, he makes his way out of the barracks.
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