A Glass and Some Class

A proper base was a work in progress, and thus the best Vortex could do was operate his protection racket out of club that was converted from a bunker. Vortex was going through the list of payees, checking their latest payments against their deadlines. Vortex is engrossed in business in his back office, where the music from the club is heavily muffled allowing him to focus. His radio is flipped on and he is preparing to have the resources delivered to Swindle.
There's a knock on the door. "Vortex, let me in. If you can even hear me. I can't even hear MYSE- oh wait."
Then Vortex will receive a radio message: << Vortex, let me in. I'm at the door. >>
Calmly Vortex reaches over and taps a few keys on a pad. The door opens allowing Blast Off entrance. He leans back in his chair and looks up, trying to appear as pleasant as possible.
And that is when Blast Off appears, looking a bit annoyed at finding himself in a loud club. "I can't even hear myself THINK out there, how can you even deal with i..." He slows and stops, noticing that it's a lot quieter in here. "I.. uh..." He stops and straightens up, turning to look at Vortex and take the room in. "Well... anyway." He gazes at Vortex. "I'm here." His voice sounds a little guarded. "...You mentioned wanting to see me? And having a bottle of... Orion Three Orchards?"
Vortex inclines his head and rises to his feet, going over to a wall cabinet. From there he gets down two cube-shaped glasses with fancy stems. Holding these in one hand he walks over, setting them on his desk. He moves his datapads and a cash box out of the way and then stoops down, pulling open a drawer in his desk. From this hs produces the promised bottle of Orion Three Orchards. He holds it out to Blast Off for his inspection. It's not one of the good years, but the brand speaks for itself. "Glad you could stop by."
Vortex better be careful, or Blast Off will get really /impressed/ here. Oh wait. The shuttleformer accepts the bottle, looking it over with a practiced optic. "Yes... I believe that's one of the drier years, but still... Orion Three Orchards." He looks at the wine with a trace of wistful longing, then hands it back to Vortex. "It has been ... too long since I had some of that."
"To be honest it fell into my possession through chance," Vortex says as he removes the seal around the bottle. He waves the bottle below his face for a moment as the scent wafts up out of the bottle. Then he pours the liquid into each glass, only three quarters full each, and then gently sets the bottle down. "This is only a temp office. Otherwise I would have personalised the area a little more." Vortex inclines his head. Vortex releaxes in his seat and holds up his cube-shaped glass.
That aroma hits Blast Off's olfactory sensors and....ohhhhhhh that smells good. The shuttleformer just raises his head a little and enjoys the experience. He walks over and takes a glass, raising it to enjoy the even stronger aroma as he swishes the liquid around. "This may not be the best year, but it is the best vinyard." He sits down and sighs contentedly, then looks around the office. "I see. Yes, it is a bit.. bare." Looking back at Vortex, he asks, "So. Keeping busy, I take it?"
"Quite. Though I am sure you would find my work rather thuggish," Vortex remarks off-handedly. "The Commander should have a base for us secured soon. I look forward to it." Vortex watches Blast Off carefully, every movement, ever expression (what can be seen of it) and every nuance as he savours the wine. "I had hoped we could do some catching up. I am sure you have a tale or two in you to share."
"Yes," Blast Off admits with a haughty sniff, "I imagine I would find it thuggish." HE on the other hand is SO cultured and classy. He doesn't notice Vortex watching him at first, being too busy savoring the experience of holding this excellent wine. He sniffs it again, then opens the hatch on his faceplate and takes a sip. AHHHH. He settles back, content.
Until he notices the copter staring at him finally. He stares back a moment, then glances away. "Yes, I look forward to having our own base. Finally... I won't have to live among the common street urchins." Another sniff. He takes another sip, then looks thoughtfully.. somewhere OTHER than where his teammate is watching him. "Ah...I suppose. I did another delivery for Swindle in Nyon- saw Hot Rod again. He certainly seems to have his hands full. Let's see.... Ah."
His tone of voice turns a little chilly. "I ran into Arcee in Nyon, as well. She was once a friend of mine, Vortex. I even..." He gazes into his wine. "I even took her on a date once. But... that was long ago, and she has since joined the /Autobots/. Do you know what she finally admitted?" His gaze lifts up to Vortex. "SHE is the one who donned a disguise and sprung a trap on me. The one who helped get me imprisoned."
Vortex listens raptly as Blast Off speaks, taking occasional sips. The mech inclines his head showing an interest. "Arcee... I see. She must have had some class to even catch your optic... pity she turned out to be so treachurous. She chose her side and will pay with her life." Vortex leans back and looks at Blast Off with a slight tilt of his head. "Unless if she were met on the battlefield you would entertain sparing her life." Vortex takes a very long sip of his drink. "Hmmm, as for me, when I was undercover, there was this situation where my and this femme, Shimmer, were both caught in something of a hostage situation. Naturally, I managed to turn the tables on our captors, but..." Vortex srugs his shoulders, "even so, explosions were set around the area, rather than let the mech use hostages as leverage, they figured they would just blow everyone up, the culprit and all. Some of us survived but were buried under a heap of debris." Vortex lifts his chin, glancing beyond Blast Off momentarily.
Blast Off begins nodding his head in agreement, his optics darkening. "Yes... trecherous indeed. After I even tried to help teach her some self-defense techniques. Some thanks *I* got." His dark look falters a little as Vortex speaks of her paying with her life, and he looks contemplative at the mention of sparing her life. He gazes down once more at his glass as if searching for the answers there. "Perhaps. Old friendships torn apart by the war that is surely coming make for... awkward moments on those battlefields. Still..." He looks up and his expression hardens once again. "She DID make her choice, and if I have to shoot her as part of my duties, I will do so."
For the rest, he listens, then frowns slightly under his faceplate. "You were buried under rubble? For how long?"
Vortex nods in approval of Blast Off hardening against the Autobot femme, but he allows his gaze to grow distant again as he continues to tell his own little tale. "Oh, I'm not sure. My nternal chronometer was damaged. I was in sorry shape. This Shimmer femme, a flyer, was outright claustrophobic so she was panicking, and likely to just make matters worse for us all. Further shifting in the debris finished some of the others off... such as a large shaft of metal that impaled someone right through the spark chamber. For survival we siphoned any energon or other fluids we could get... one by one those who survived the blast were... falling. Finally it was just me and Shimmer, who by then... well you wouldn't know her from an empty. Her desperation to get out and survive made her rather feral. She snapped off most of her digits trying to dig herself out with her bare hands. I broke off two of my rotors to use for digging and leverage. I was almost as desperate to get out of there as she was. Almost." Vortex chuckles very darkly as his optic visor dims. "Eventually we got out, just the two of us. It was a race against getting out, or one of us killing the other. We'd come close several times... and when you come close to killing someone and pull back from that voluntarily, it creates an interesting bond." Vortex goes to sip his drink, then realises there is none left in the glass. However, he does NOT reach for a refill.
Blast Off listens to this, wincing inwardly just slightly at the tale of the claustrophobic flier- something he can definitely empathize with himself. He never liked feeling contained and getting his spark stuffed in a box for millions of years made it even more true. "That sounds quite... harrowing." He sees Vortex look at his empty wine glass and follows by taking another sip of his wine, still savoring the experience. Then he's back to the story. "I imagine it does. ....So you both survived, then?"
"That we did. We managed not to kill each other, much to my own surprise. But, as much as I'd harvest any useful part of her without a second thought to get out of there, I also knew more hands made light work. And she was determined." Vortex idly taps a finger on his desk a few times, glancing off to the side for a while. "I don't like being trapped any more than the next flier. We made our way to the closest clinic we could. She was declared dead, so it was a while before she could have her priveleges reinstated. In the meantime... we sort of... hit it off shall we say." Vortex dips his head and looks back at Blast Off, his expression difficult to read as ever.
Blast Off tilts his head, lifting an optic ridge. "Oh? What's this?" The shuttle sounds mildly amused, taking the opportunity to swish the wine in his glass and take another sip. "So, how did it go?"
"Nowhere." Vortex tilts his head back and laughs ruefully. "Once she was reinstated into her old place in society, I was cast off. She'd learned somehow that I had a criminal record and whilst she might have bent the rules a little if I were Middle Caste, she could not condescend to getting involved with a lower caste mech. She told me as a kindness she wouldn't tell anyone what she learned, and then showed me the proverbial door." By now Vortex is finally reaching for another drink, but then his hand hangs empty in the air just before enclosing his fingers about the neck of the bottle. He withdraws his hand and sets it on the desk. He then chuckles again. "Besides, she could have comprimised my mission anyhow, so it was a kindness."
Ah. Blast Off takes that in, looking at first a bit disappointed for Vortex's sake... then thoughtful... then perhaps a tiny bit uncomfortable. After all, as a former High caste he knows where she was coming from, and he might have done the very same thing. Potentially, at least. His own hand lowers and he rests the glass on his thigh for a moment. "I... see. How disappointing. That wouldn't have been pleasant, though I suppose as a High caste, she felt she had a duty to maintain that position. Still... unfortunate."
He glances off to a random spot on the wall. "As a High caste myself, I can attest to the pressure one often feels to maintain expected standards. Still... not an easy situation." Of course, Blast Off /isn't/ actually High caste anymore, but denial has always been his friend.
Vortex smirks under his faceplate. "Oh, I have no hard feelings towards her. Difficult to have hard feelings towards the dead. Such an unfortunate accident that befell her several lunar cycles later." Vortex leans back in his chair. "But somehow I knew you'd see things from her perspective. There is a duty for you people at the top to show us lower beings how to behave. And I imagine it would not do for YOU to ever entertain the notion of entering an intense relationship with someone beneath you. It just... would be a slap to the face of everything you stand for and strive to preserve about your previous life."
The minute Vortex says she's dead Blast Off has a feeling he won't like the rest of the story... and indeed he is correct. His movements stop and he simply stares at the rotary. His attempt at calm aloofness grows increasingly interrupted with a distinct unease as his gaze darts from Vortex off to the side. Finally, he shifts in his seat and places his glass down on the nearby table- then keeps his hand on it as he stares at it next.
After a long silence, he speaks. "...Well, yes... of course. I...I strive to maintain that ...quality. That... example. It's... well, life gets /complicated/, but I... well... I..." His voice starts off soft and faltering, but hardens a little as he turns to look at the interrogater. "You're not... /implying/ something, are you?"
"Ah, ah, ah," Vortex responds when Blast Off gets increasingly agitated. "What do you think I am implying? I just find your way of clutching to upper caste etiquette as a fascinating coping mechanism. And before you give me that look, I did not have anything to do with Shimmer's death. It really was an unfortunate accident.. and a similar accident occured to the place I was presently residing. Luckily, I wasn't recharging when they thought I was."
"I don't KNOW." Blast Off responds with a huff, "I have NO idea what you.. what you would be implying." He waves a hand dismissively, trying to look bored now as he looks away. Then that hand clenches in a fist as Vortex reminds him of his /former/ High Caste status, and slowly lowers down to his side. He still refuses to look at Vortex as he replies- his voice picking up a smattering of ice once more, "...I ....SHOULD still be High Caste. I was.. *robbed* of it, and...someday I *will* be High Caste again. In fact..." His gaze returns to his teammate. "In fact, who are THEY to tell me I'm not? I still am, for all intents and purposes and training and experience, and the ones who claim I am not anymore will soon be out of the picture /anyway/."
The rotary's mention of another accident gets another slightly dubious look and he adds, "There are a lot of... accidents around you it seems..."
"I was not challenging your place in society. Why must you always become so defensive? I tease you now and then, but I do believe that after war has torn this place apart, we will need people like you to restore that civilised touch." Vortex places both of his hands on the desk. "And accidents happen around all of us. I'm sure Swindle has had his share." Vortex glances at Blast Off's glass.
Blast Off is starting to puff up in righteous indignation, but Vortex's comment restoring a *civilized touch* seems to smooth the shuttle's ruffled feathers somewhat and he leans back into his chair. "Ah. Well, yes. You will." He lifts his glass and swishes the remaining liquid inside. "If I get... defensive it simply because there are so many who... cannot seem to see..." He pauses from what he was about to say, optics ridges furrowing, and says, "...Well, they cannot see the importance of the class, culture, and intellect that I bring to otherwise more... rough situations." He downs the last of the wine, then places the glass on the table, looking to the bottle and deliberating more. "...Yes, I suppose Swindle does... too." An ironic, deadpan expression flickers across his own face. "I've had an... accident or two, myself."
"No. A lot of people resent their superiors. However, I believe someone may start at the top, but ther actions can drag them down into the scum if they don't uphold the honour and dignity of their rank." Vortex rises from his chair. "You have been kicked down to the bottom but still uphold your own high standards, so when all is said and done, you should be quite capable of reinstating yourself into a lofty position. If you can earn it back, that is. And, oh, I hate to cut our little conversation short but I have somewhere to be." Vortex grabs the pads hee was examining before. "Feel free to stick around and help yourself to more of the wine... just leave some for me."
Vortex continues to have a way of making the shuttle feel slightly uneasy. Blast Off agrees, of course, but... his thoughts drift to Whirl, and to wondering if that is what the copter is subtlely getting at. Whirl, who from Vortex's point of view at least, would indeed be capable of dragging Blast Off down into the gutters. "Yes...I am sure I will. Unlike many, I have /always/ maintained my class. And indeed, many resent the High Class. Some even resent spacecraft!" he shakes his head. "We will find our place again, though. Both here- and in the stars."
As Vortex leaves, Blast Off nods politely. "Very well. ...thank you for the wine." See? Such a gentlemech. He then gets up and pours another glass before sitting back down, crossing one leg over the other and savoring this small moment of high-cultured bliss. Yes, this is what living High Caste tastes like... and he WILL taste it again.