1362/The Private Sort

**Juris has posed:**
Tonight is one of the quieter nights at Maccadams, given that it's the evening of what had been a slower megacycle. There are currently only a few patrons sitting at the bar, making small talk amongst themselves, occasionally glancing up at the menu to see if there's anything worth ordering.

 Above the common area is the loft, which is empty save for a lone female rotary, who has immersed herself in reading the datapad held in her hand. She seems completely laser focused, but when the doors swing open to permiss another patron, she looks up with a sigh. Then she gets up and heads down to the bar, presumably to order herself a drink.

**Springer has posed:**
    Springer shoulders himself into the tavern, looking around quietly before heading to the bar himself. Spotting Juris, he nods with a friendly smile but keeps a respectful distance. He orders a Tin Julep and leans back against the bar, his optics scanning the other patrons. Earlier this mega-cycle Springer was aggressive and insulting. Tonight, his focus is thoughtful and internal.

**Buzzsaw has posed:**
Where two or more are gathered, there will always be a set of eyes simply...observing the proceedings, and that is hardly an exception here in Maccadam's. Buzzsaw glides in and makes an immediate break to land on the railings of the loft that overlook the main floor, just peering down to see who is present before his attention turns to look at Juris. "Oh...you're not dead. That's a remarkably...comforting surprise in it's own right."

**Juris has posed:**
"..."

Juris angles her helm to look at the bird, but betrays no emotion. "That is thinly veiled flattery," she says to him, "What do you want?"

She regards Springer mildly. "I suppose you aren't going to buy my drink tonight?"

**Buzzsaw has posed:**
Buzzsaw chuckles softly, though he's accustomed to the more snappy retorts he tends to draw. "It is sincere, though. You helped stop a threat to Cybertron as a whole, and...while I may wear this badge," he taps the Decepticon crest, "Cybertron's well-being is what we all seek in the end, is it not?"

He clicks his beak lightly. "And...perhaps what I want is the same thing we all want when we come here, no? To just...converse, mingle, and forget that not too long ago we were all seeking to outright rip one another to pieces." He chuffs, smirking a bit.

**Blast Off has posed:**
It turns out that Buzzsaw is not the only Decepticon in Maccadams right now. Blast Off emerges from the corner he was seated at, still sipping some wine and reading from a datapad, as he heads up to the bar to reorder. However, upon the sight of Juris and Springer, he stops, optics narrowing. He notes Buzzsaw, too, quickly closing whatever he was reading before again making his way to the bar and ordering a drink. His optics ridges seem to raise in a way that indicates some internal smugness at seeing ANOTHER Decepticon talking to Autobots for once, not him. HA!

**Springer has posed:**
    Springer smiles midly. "I'll be happy to buy you a drink," he tells Juris. "But not one for these two chuckleheads," he continues, referring obviously to the Decepticons. His tone is quiet and playful, however, with no real malice in it tonight.

**Juris has posed:**
"..."

 "Ah," Juris says, "I... didn't mean that."

 However, the bartender did and is already pouring a drink and putting it on Springer's tab. "Bit late to tack it back, though."

 She folds her arms, tilting her helm at Laserbeak. "Oh please. You don't have to pretend to be grateful," the rotary replies. "I'm no fool, Buzzsaw. You know who I am, and I know who you are. If you don't ask a favor, then I will."

 Then she approaches Blast Off. Her visor and mask retract and she addresses the Combaticon. "Hello, Blast Off," she says. "What were you just reading?"

**Buzzsaw has posed:**
Laserbeak is the red one.

This one is clearly not red.

Buzzsaw nods slightly. "Well, why not ask away, then? The worst I can say is no... and I'll never ask favors. Not after...the last one. Firstly, it was big. Secondly...I think everyone I asked to help was overly scrutinizing it to a degree that was detrimental to actually succeeding in halting the plague." He chuffs and...pointedly ignores Springer's jab.

Oh, but there's a Blast Off...hmm... He gives the shuttle a look over before nodding a greeting.

**Blast Off has posed:**
Blast Off squints a bit at Springer. Sure the Autobot acts all jovial now, but he hasn't forgotten the last time they met here, and the Autobot's threats. The Combaticon's armor bristles as he waits for his drink. Maybe he can just ignore everyone and.... nope. He tenses as Juris approaches, turning to face her while still leaning against the bar. He does not look amused- not that that's anything new. His optics dart to the datapad in hand. "...." He glances back up at her, straightening some. "Some updates, a few military logs, the usual." Totally not romance novels or antyhing like that! "Not that it's any of your business, anyway." Haughty sniff. He eyes her suspiciously. "But that never stopped you before, has it?" He notes Buzzsaw's nod and returns it, then looks back to Juris.

**Springer has posed:**
    Springer turns to sip his drink, nodding to the bartender that it's OK to keep his tab open for both Juris and himself. He gives a sarcastic chin-raised bro nods to Blast Off, grinning at his predatorily in a way that makes sure Blast Off knows that Springer hasn't forgotten their exchange, either. However, he doesn't interrupt the conversation for now, showing that no matter what people say, he IS capable of listening on occasion.

**Juris has posed:**
".. Thank you," she says to Springer with a nod."

She then glances over at Buzzsaw. "Well, some of my contacts who frequent here reported Decepticon activity nearby on a regular basis recently. However, there's nothing to see here tonight. Did you happen to find what you were looking for?" she asks the Decepticon cassette frankly. Her optics follow Blast Off's gaze to the datapad, then gives the Combaticon an amused look. "You don't have to be ashamed of your hobbies," she says to the Combaticon, "everyone has a right to do something to cope with the war, don't they?" She waves at the bartender. "Put a bottle of fine engex on the tab, will you?" Perhaps Blast Off can't blame Vortex for having fallen for the rotary, she has taste in drinks and is.. quite pretty.

**Buzzsaw has posed:**
Buzzsaw clicks his beak lightly. "To put it bluntly, yes. We've found what we need and several of our crew had good drinks to go along with." He almost seems to be grinning faintly. "The real question is...did your comrades find it as well?"

Looking back down at Blast Off, there's a chuckle on his part. "Oh, yes, I agree, we all have our hobbies... mine is music. I love composing unique and interesting pieces. Some day I may even release one or two."

**Blast Off has posed:**
The Combaticon's optics narrow at Springer but he doesn't say anything... just lingers in that hard stare for a moment. Someday, Autobot, you and he shall meet outside a bar and... THEN Blast Off will show HIM what's what! Yeah!

Now back to Juris. "What hobbies?" he huffs at her, then Buzzsaw, giving the condor a wary look at the mention of 'music'. "I hardly have any time for such things with the /war/ and all. A little time for a relaxing drink and that's about it. Of course, if you Autobots wanted to surrender and GIVE me more free time, be my guest." Huff again. He keeps eying her, too. Sure, she may be pretty AND a rotary, something the shuttle's seemed amicable to in the past, but ...he's still suspicious regarding her and his teammate. "I'm sure Vortex would be delighted if you did..."

**Springer has posed:**
    Springer smirks as apparently, he's buying drinks for the chuckleheads after all - which, really, makes HIM the chucklehead. He doesn't argue, however, and merely orders another tin julep to sip as he watches and zones ou-uh, listens to the others yammer on about whatever people talk about when they're not punching things.

**Juris has posed:**
She surveys Buzzsaw quietly, her expression becoming pensive. "Well, consider my favor cashed, then." She folds her arms. "This doesn't lessen the factional gap between us, though, Buzzsaw. Don't expect me at your opening night."

 She shrugs, and doesn't press Blast Off. "Alright then," she says, "suit yourself, but if you didn't want people knowing that you like to read, you should probably go somewhere more private, like a library or your own private habsuite." The bartender brings out the enerwine and pours Blast Off a glass. Juris gestures at it. "Did you want some?"

**Buzzsaw has posed:**
Buzzsaw chuckles a bit. "Mmm...cashed it shall be, then. And...yes, yes, a pity, really," he gives a light tap on the railing he's perched on and a meaningful glance to the glass Juris poured for Blast Off. "One of these days, we will...kill one another so much that there's no choice but to join forces because we're simply at risk of extinction..."

He motions. "May I join?" He huffs. "One thing that is...critically lost here is the ability to hold civil discourse. Everyone seems to believe that any inherrent disagreement must be settled by laser fire, bombs, or-" he looks at Springer, "-fists... none of which are capable of uttering a single intelligent word."

**Blast Off has posed:**
"I \*read\*, of course I do... I'm a sophisticate, after all." He waves the datapad up in the air. "Not to mention a soldier with reports to keep track of!" He clunks the datapad down on the table, black hand still on it, and eyes the femme as she offers him... a drink? He blinks. The sniper huffs, waving his other hand away from that drink. "NO." He's not going to accept a drink from an enemy!

Then Buzzsaw speaks of the future and... all that. "Don't you think many people have \*already\* tried words? Words don't work anymore, and I say that as someone who'd far rather people settle things like gentlemechs than like..." he waves at Springer, "Backalley ruffians!"

Then as the bartender seems to be ready to take that scorned glass away, the Combaticon suddenly reaches for it. "Actually, if it's already \*poured\* and everything, it would be a shame for that to go to \*waste\*..."

**Springer has posed:**
    "Hey," Springer laughs, joining the conversation at last. "Don't underestimate the power of fists to settle civil disagreements. I can express all manner of feelings with the right application of fisticuffs." Springer puts down his drink and moves closer to Blast Off, attempting to slap the Combaticon on the back just as he takes a drink, and then put his arm around the smaller Transformer's shoulders. "Ain't that right, friend?" he goads.

**Juris has posed:**
"I wasn't trying to pick a fight," she says to the bird, "and who said you could predict the future? That may not be the case," she says, "despite it's statistical likeliness."

 She shrugs when he asks to join. "Well, I suppose I am the exception then, because I certainly don't think that every conflict is resolved with violence."

 "Calm yourself," she continues, "he has his uses." She comes to stand behind Springer, as if her physical presence was supposed to validate her verbal support.

She smirks ever so slightly for the briefest moment when Blast Off agrees to take the drink. He was so predictable. "Certainly would be. So you read," she says, "for educational purposes, surely? Rumor has it you are an excellent shot. You must always be seeking to further your skillset."

**Buzzsaw has posed:**
Buzzsaw hmms. "Never said you were... it just seems to be the path all roads lead down of late. I miss my...talks with others, debating the merits of certain things and reflecting on the different angles, approaches, and other such things on any given matter... Echo chambers, after all, are abhorent things to be trapped in. When one cannot see beyond their own ideals, they become blind to their convictions."

He glances as Blast Off gets the drink...and then just turns his attention to the bartender, tapping lightly on the railing. They know his. It will be delivered soon enough. "Hmph...as for the future... I hope I'm wrong about where things will end."

**Blast Off has posed:**
Blast Off tenses as there's suddenly a big Wrecker smacking him on the back, the wrapping an arm around his shoulders all friendly-like. The shuttleformer's optics pale and brighten at the same time as he eyes both Springer and Juris behind him. He remains standing rather stiffly, determined not to give ground but also way out of his element. He's silent a bit before stating, "...I'm surprised you even know what the word \*fisticuffs\* means."

To Juris, well, that's where his ego gets involved and we all know what THAT means. "Why yes, I am," he replies, cultured voice still a bit prickly with the physical situation he's in. "I do read the latest ballistic data, reviews of the latest weaponry, laser trajectory charts and the like... sniping is more simply firing off a shot, it's a way of life. A way of /moving/." Another glance up at Springer. "And staying still."

Looking back at Buzzsaw thoughtfully, he says, "Talks can certainly be... rather revealing."

**Springer has posed:**
Springer laughs and pats Blast Off on the back, less forcefully this time. "You're alright, Blast Off." He steps away, giving the Combaticon fingerguns. "I'm still gonna kill you, though!" he laughs. Springer closes the tab, leaving a generous tip. "Good night, all!" he says with a bow, and then heads back out into the night.

**Juris has posed:**
"Perhaps you should reconsider your participation in this war, then, don't you think? I certainly do, frequently," the rotary says with a shrug.

 "Well, don't we all," she says to Buzzsaw.

 She watches Blast Off's composure decay when Springer suddenly grabs him, but says nothing, simply observing, calculating. When the Combaticon soaks up her comment about him being a sniper, she follows up with, "I'd expect as much. Any targets you feel like... bragging about?"

 She watches Springer leave, nodding at the Wrecker as he exits.

**Buzzsaw has posed:**
Buzzsaw says, "I'm quite comfortable in my role in this conflict... my allies are known to me, and very well at that." He looks at his drink as it's delivered, leaning to balance on one foot while the other closes around the glass so he can sip from it. A proper sophisticated birb, after all.

"And my loyalties are to...the ideal. Those I know who can act to bring it about. When the Senate saw fit to ensure those like me were...snubbed, pushed into the gutters and made to live there in contentment, my allies were the ones who harbored me, took my brethren in, and treated us as equals.

"Still do, at that." He looks at his drink. "So...yes, my place is assured. I will stand with those who fought for me, for my brethren, and for all others like me... because none of us should ever endure what we endured."

He sips."

**Blast Off has posed:**
Blast Off is actually kind of surprised by that reaction. He watches the Autobot warily as he heads off, not saying anything- but not huffing at him either. "Just try..." he finally mutters under his breath as he takes a sip from his glass. He glances to Buzzsaw very quickly before huffing softly to Juris. "I have no doubts regarding my particpation in this war, nor the side I'm on." Siiip. See, loyal Decepticon. SO LOYAL. Then Juris further strokes that ego. "Heh... well, I seem to be the only one who can put some laserfire in that annoying former racer you Autobots somehow put up with. But someone that fast takes \*extreme\* skills to routinely hit... like mine." Preeeen.

He looks to Buzzsaw. This is a side of the bird he doesn't usually see. He sips thoughtfully, listening. "Exactly. This is why our side will win. It \*has\* to."

**Juris has posed:**
"..." She shrugs at Buzzsaw. "Well, to each their own, I suppose." She pulls over a bar chair that has a sturdy back towards the table Blast Off is sitting at so that Buzzsaw can perch closer, then holds up a spare glass and the bottle of fine engex, in a silent gesture of hospitality.

 Juris seems impressed. "Oh is that so? That is quite.. a feat, for sure. But you aren't a singularity," she says, "I'm sure there have been others who have shot Blurr before. Any targets who have only felt the sting of /your/ bullet?"

**Buzzsaw has posed:**
Buzzsaw looks at Blast Off, and there's something in that look, as well as the tone of voice, that just seems...doubtful? Weary? It's tough to pinpoint, but it's there. "Is it, though, Blast Off?" He sips his drink again. "If we've lost our ability to speak, no amount of war will ever solve nor truly win the matter... just as no amount of words can ever truly win nor compete against...an unstoppable will to fight."

There's a slight inclination of his head towards Juris on the last part, flying over and setting his drink down to get settled in proper. "Hmmf...to each their own... that's not what you're supposed to say, Juris. You're supposed to debate the matter. Provide a countering point of view... something that is meant to shift conviction or perceived truth..." He reclaims his drink and sips at it again. "Hmph...but, as you said, to each their own, I suppose."

**Blast Off has posed:**
The specifity of Juris' question draws narrowed optics as Blast Off tries to figure out why she's heading down this particular verbal path. "Well, I'm about the only one who can routinely hit him..." he mutters. "I suppose lately it's been the Mimic, whatever that thing is. Maybe some Autobot hit him somewhere, but I doubt it. Last time I checked I was about the only one. If not the only one!" If someone else HAD hit him, he doesn't want to know anyway!

Now back to Buzzsaw. He pauses a moment, trying to figure out why the bird is bringing this up, too, then decides it's above his pay grade for tonight and just goes back to his drink. "I think everyone's too TIRED and shellshocked to really speak, these days. It's become routine- shoot, fight, kill- take a recharge, do it again."

**Juris has posed:**
Her visor and mask suddenly slide into place, and she regards Buzzsaw blandly. "I know what I'm supposed to do," she says, "but I won't indulge you, I'm rather private, you see."

 Of course she was smart enough to reveal nothing about herself to the bird, who worked closely with Soundwave.

 "Congratulations," she says to Blast Off, offering him another glass. "Was that recent?"

**Buzzsaw has posed:**
Buzzsaw hmms... "I see." He finishes his drink. "Pity..." A touch of sincerity is buried very, very deeply in that simple word, and the Condor lingers in silence for a brief moment longer before setting his glass down.

"Well, in that case...it seems no one's mind will be changed tonight." And, with that, he hops from the chair to the railing, opens his wings, and drops off the loft to glide out.

**Blast Off has posed:**
Blast Off eyes the femme as her mask snaps back, then regards her as he slowly swishes the drink in his hands. His other hand over the datapad- and near another drink, apparently. "No," he puts a palm up to yet a third glass, he's got these two to finish first. Then he replies, "....Fairly recent, yes." Squint. "Why?" He watches the bird fly, then returns to his glass.

**Juris has posed:**
She watches the bird fly off, but says nothing in response to Buzzsaw.

 Then her visor glows a bit for a nanosecond at the Combaticon. "Thank you, Blast Off," she says. " Enjoy the rest of the bottle, please. I have other matters to attend to, but it was pleasant talking to you. You are a true gentlemech, and a fine example someone who knows how to have civil discourse." A hand rests briefly on his shoulder before the female rotary turns on her heel to exit the joint. "Apologies, but I can't answer your question. Like I said.. I'm the private sort." And then she's gone.

**Blast Off has posed:**
Hmm. Blast Off tilts his head slightly as Juris makes her exit, giving her a small, polite nod of the head as he's called \*gentlemech\*. "...Until next time." He gazes into the distance for while where she left, then finally goes back to his drink. The datapad comes out and it's reading time again.