#a r c e e → ┘we're alone on this planet where ever we go. ┌ ::team prime::

[duplicitcus]

"i bet you like to read a lot, too."

She'll get a flicker of violet optics, and a faint smile across heavily scarred lip-plates. His data-cables are currently logged into his console- allowing him remote access without being right in front of it. His mask lies in front of him, Ravage already going over it with the micro-tools attached to her nimble claws. She has a bipedal mode, but tends to prefer the quadruped for speed and agility.

And, of course, underestimation- since mechanisms and humans alike are content to think her nothing more than a simple mechanimal.

Soundwave, meanwhile, holds up the book of pre-Golden Age history files he'd managed to scrounge up from his formidable library.

"Soundwave," his actual vocalizer clicks on with a harsh rasp. "Reading texts. History: fascinating. Arcee: agree?"

[duplicitcus]

She is excited to see them again. Greeting everyone in order, first Laserbeak with her arm strut welcoming her, then offering her servo towards Ravage whether she wants a head scratch or not. And for the last she is heading to greet the host with extended servo, seeking embrace.

She'll get it.

There's a sensation of pleasure/appreciation from the Host as his field comes in contact with her's. The data cables stream out from behind his back like strangling vines, slowing as they approach her. Strong, but supple- they gently twine around her waist and lift her closer to him.

Lean, elegant fingers reach up to her face- bringing his fore helm to push against her's in a "kiss." One hand frees itself to reach up and remove the full-face mask away from his helm- a little smile alighting on those angular faceplates. Somewhere, he's gotten a bit of repair work done. The right side is a snarl of welds, but it's no longer gaping and open.

This close, she can see the sharpened dentae with their prominent eyeteeth just past the parted lips, but there's nothing cruel in the curve of those lips.

His throat cables vibrate with the thrum of his vocalizer.

"This one::missed you," he intones- inflection lacking, but the sentiment is clear.

[duplicitcus]

❰❰ LEAN ❱❱ sender leans against receiver

She's been allowed onto the abandoned AFB that he's turned into a haven. There's a Cybertronian sized nest that she's gently placed into, with the host-mechanism following. He doesn't try to ease into her side, or attempt to touch her in a way that's considered impolite.

Instead, the large screen that he uses for projections comes down- and he queues up an actual series of Cybertronian shows. He knows vaguely what she likes, conversations here and there that she's had with Jack and other mechanisms recorded on his files.

So, it somewhat surprises him when halfway through one show- he feels weight against his arm that ISN'T one of his symbionts. A sideways look through the visor notes that the slighter frame has started to lean against his, one of her arms threading through his bigger one.

He turns his gaze forward- reaching up with one datacable to gently detach the mask, and replace it with a clear visor that allows him to see. Full lips twitch into a faint smile as he looks over at her. The voice that she receives is actually his for once- slightly deeper than expected, with that hard rasp from old damage.

"Arcee, comfortable?"

[duplicitcus]

The reply is forthwith- coming up on her tablet for ease of reading.

[... Even mechanisms like me. So easily that distinction comes to you. Am I so different a creature than you? It is exactly that sort of demarcation that will make sure that no sort of opportunities will happen for any sort of mechanism with the Decepticon brand on them. Justice is for those that can afford it, opportunities for those with the right advantages.]

His claws pause over the console for a moment- a long, slow and silent sigh leaving him before he continues.

[It does not mean I will not stop fighting for it, however. Only that I do not harbor any real expectation of being treated like a citizen or an individual. We have spent so long before this war being nothing, that the only taste of freedom we were given was during it. With Megatron’s self-exile and Prime’s sacrifice? Who is there to hold back the tide of hatred to follow. These are the things I fear, my Arcee. These are the things that haunt every Decepticon.]

"Truth. Has Soundwave desired 1. ambitious career or 2. peaceful home life? Or which one is the closest."

The deployer looks thoughtful at that, leaning his helm to one side before his fingers fly over the keyboard to answer. For something like this, it's easier for him to answer in text.

[ The only ambition I have ever held, was that of being a free mechanism. I wanted to be able to choose my function, my frame, and my choices. Now that I have that, I would like to find myself a position to continue my interests. I would like to remain in communications, perhaps as a HUB-master. It is unlikely that these things will happen, of course, so I harbor no real expectations. ]

[duplicitcus]

Soundwave hums with faint appreciation. He doesn't interrogate her here, nor does he try to extract her secrets. He could... that much is easy enough. A gentle breach past her firewalls and then glide his metaphoric digits over her memories and core processes like a field of flowers.

He wouldn't do that.

This place is sacrosanct for him, and despite his reputation amongst the Autobots and non-affiliated mechanisms, he's not a monster. No, that sort of title belongs to others. Towards the truly cruel mechanisms that delight in the pain of others, and seek to draw it out. The spymaster won't deny that occasionally that desire for vengeance or to hurt as he was hurt does not slip out.

He is not omnipotent, after all.

The vocalizer kicks on, those lilac-and-lavender optics flickering over to her as his lips twitch into a faint smile.

"Soundwave: trusts Arcee. Grateful: for your trust."

Laserbeak twitters her own little laugh as she steps to the leg closest to the petite femme. The elegant line of her helm dips underneath that hand, allowing herself to be touched with a pinning of her optics. Their dilation decreases and increases with the oscillation of her spark- denoting her delight.

Ravage is a bit more aloof as she makes her way over. That doesn't mean that Arcee is not greeted. No, the pantherine femme gently presses the flat of her forehelm against the other's shoulder for a moment— before padding over to settle on her own berth. One of her thin cables snakes out to gather the energon container Soundwave has left for her.

He watches as she slips the end of the tube in to start siphoning, before returning to Arcee again. Laserbeak laughs softly as well.

"Ravage is thirsty! Finished patrol, we both did. Nothing new, Soundwave. The humans still haven't figured us out." He nods at that, then gives Arcee an amused look.

"This base: shielded with cloaking technology. Shockwave: brilliant. Shockwave: also in hiding. Decepticons: scattered."

It's no secret information he's giving her, and it's things she would have already found out on her own by simple reconnaissance. Still, it's a further olive branch- a gift, if you will.

He bobs his helm in understanding. He knows what it's like to try to bottle what you can, only for it to explode outwards later. He's gotten better about it, himself- but it doesn't mean the odd emotion doesn't leak through.

At the moment, however- he's relieved that Arcee isn't going to judge him. Not that he had expected her to, but the reassurance is welcome. The intensity of his gaze still rests on her, giving absolutely undivided attention. A stray thought passes from him to her, idly querying about her knowing chronolinguistics. It's less a question, and simply a stray process that brushes the outside of her neural net.

'You are very brave,' his words returning to brush against her processor. 'To admit your own shortcomings, and embrace them. Mechanisms try to... stop them, to get rid of them- but shortcomings are also advantages.'

His own micro-expressions resume as he continues the conversation.

'Honesty is a rare occurrence- even to one's self. It is, again, refreshing.'

His field's corona fizzles with delight again, as well as that gentle, welcoming brush of ionization against her's. Of course he doesn't mind if they do this again. In fact, there's a certain amount of eagerness there- to sync with someone and to share time and space with them. He is, despite his aloofness- something of a mech that enjoys company.

'I cannot give you all of my secrets, not now. However, I will happily answer as many questions as you would like to ask.'

His attention is diverted as a shadow wings inwards, the small smile on his face widens as Laserbeak spirals overhead into small concentric circles, before gently alighting on his knee joint.

Those bright, red-gold optics peer at Arcee as her helm cocks. Metallic platelets rise in excitement as she recognizes the femme.

'You came! You came! Soundwave felt very excited- so I wanted to see! Hello, Arcee!'

Her voice is as cheerful as ever, twittery and bright. Soundwave's face pulls an expression of long-suffering, but it's tinged with fondness. His vocalizer clicks on, and he gives his symbiote a wry look.

"Laserbeak: impatient."

He's rewarded with a rude raspberry from the symbiote. 'Laserbeak, curious!'

[duplicitcus]

He bobs his helm in understanding. He knows what it's like to try to bottle what you can, only for it to explode outwards later. He's gotten better about it, himself- but it doesn't mean the odd emotion doesn't leak through.

At the moment, however- he's relieved that Arcee isn't going to judge him. Not that he had expected her to, but the reassurance is welcome. The intensity of his gaze still rests on her, giving absolutely undivided attention. A stray thought passes from him to her, idly querying about her knowing chronolinguistics. It's less a question, and simply a stray process that brushes the outside of her neural net.

'You are very brave,' his words returning to brush against her processor. 'To admit your own shortcomings, and embrace them. Mechanisms try to... stop them, to get rid of them- but shortcomings are also advantages.'

His own micro-expressions resume as he continues the conversation.

'Honesty is a rare occurrence- even to one's self. It is, again, refreshing.'

His field's corona fizzles with delight again, as well as that gentle, welcoming brush of ionization against her's. Of course he doesn't mind if they do this again. In fact, there's a certain amount of eagerness there- to sync with someone and to share time and space with them. He is, despite his aloofness- something of a mech that enjoys company.

'I cannot give you all of my secrets, not now. However, I will happily answer as many questions as you would like to ask.'

His attention is diverted as a shadow wings inwards, the small smile on his face widens as Laserbeak spirals overhead into small concentric circles, before gently alighting on his knee joint.

Those bright, red-gold optics peer at Arcee as her helm cocks. Metallic platelets rise in excitement as she recognizes the femme.

'You came! You came! Soundwave felt very excited- so I wanted to see! Hello, Arcee!'

Her voice is as cheerful as ever, twittery and bright. Soundwave's face pulls an expression of long-suffering, but it's tinged with fondness. His vocalizer clicks on, and he gives his symbiote a wry look.

"Laserbeak: impatient."

He's rewarded with a rude raspberry from the symbiote. 'Laserbeak, curious!'

Her hand is brought back down, though he hasn't let go of it. Their digits are still intertwined with each other, with the host-mech quite comfortable with the physical proximity. His helm tilts slightly as he listens, cocking with an avian slant.

While they've been linked up- his backdoor processes have been gently defragging the data in her banks. He hasn't changed, or moved anything- only taking out the trash data to make her processor feel a little better. It's something he does to himself on the regular, as being a receptacle of so much information makes for ghost files.

And those have to be cleared out, or else one could suffer a crash.

He does, out of courtesy, provide her the event logs of him doing so- which includes where he went, and what was removed. It's something he was very used to doing with his Liege, though those days have passed. There had been things not even his formidable programming prowess had been able to fix, and data corrupted via some esoteric energon consumption is at the top of that list.

'Your darkness is part of you,' he rumbles in her "audials"- his digital vocal pattern reverberating. 'As is mine. There is truth in data. Truth in the Uplink. Hosts like myself prefer not to lie, as it corrupts data- causing issues later. I can, and do exaggerate.'

One shoulder-strut flexes upwards in an absent shrug.

'I do not feel the need to do so with you. You are...' here, his optics flick away as he searches his word banks for an appropriate term that fits his partner. 'Refreshing. Your emotional subroutines make sense. Your command processes are logical, only augmented by emotional branches. You are passionately expressive.'

Those optics flick back to her, faceplates still tilted down so they're close together.

'I admire that. It is why I have my mask. Emotions are easy to hide in the field. Not so much on my face.'

That little smile turns into a wry grin, before a moue of surprise morphs his face into something like wonder. Not many mechs would voluntarily link up with a Host. There are some risks associated, of course- with one system accidentally overriding another. This is why mechs like him are brought online with special protocols to help tether the full force of their interfacial strength to a non-lethal level.

'You... would like to do this again?'

[duplicitcus]

Her hand is brought back down, though he hasn't let go of it. Their digits are still intertwined with each other, with the host-mech quite comfortable with the physical proximity. His helm tilts slightly as he listens, cocking with an avian slant.

While they've been linked up- his backdoor processes have been gently defragging the data in her banks. He hasn't changed, or moved anything- only taking out the trash data to make her processor feel a little better. It's something he does to himself on the regular, as being a receptacle of so much information makes for ghost files.

And those have to be cleared out, or else one could suffer a crash.

He does, out of courtesy, provide her the event logs of him doing so- which includes where he went, and what was removed. It's something he was very used to doing with his Liege, though those days have passed. There had been things not even his formidable programming prowess had been able to fix, and data corrupted via some esoteric energon consumption is at the top of that list.

'Your darkness is part of you,' he rumbles in her "audials"- his digital vocal pattern reverberating. 'As is mine. There is truth in data. Truth in the Uplink. Hosts like myself prefer not to lie, as it corrupts data- causing issues later. I can, and do exaggerate.'

One shoulder-strut flexes upwards in an absent shrug.

'I do not feel the need to do so with you. You are...' here, his optics flick away as he searches his word banks for an appropriate term that fits his partner. 'Refreshing. Your emotional subroutines make sense. Your command processes are logical, only augmented by emotional branches. You are passionately expressive.'

Those optics flick back to her, faceplates still tilted down so they're close together.

'I admire that. It is why I have my mask. Emotions are easy to hide in the field. Not so much on my face.'

That little smile turns into a wry grin, before a moue of surprise morphs his face into something like wonder. Not many mechs would voluntarily link up with a Host. There are some risks associated, of course- with one system accidentally overriding another. This is why mechs like him are brought online with special protocols to help tether the full force of their interfacial strength to a non-lethal level.

'You... would like to do this again?'

He allows himself a gentle snort of amusement, but she's treated to another one of those rare smiles. This close, it's easier to see the sharp denate he inherited from his Vosnian progenitor- nothing like Megatron's obviously and only the canines. Still, it marks him as other, as Decepticon- given that Autobot dental arches still tend to be flat.

She's given a wave of relief, and of gratitude across his field. He lets it linger, like waves rippling from a rock dropped into a still pond- before he's lifting her hand up and gently brushing open the port at her wrist. The cable sockets in neatly, painlessly- the handshake a neat, tidy thing that suddenly opens up the proverbial floodgates.

Data begins to sync between the two, calmly at first. As he's said, it's a physical sensation for a Host-mech like himself. It ebbs and flows like the tide, each time adding a little data and then withdrawing with the same amount. It allows their spark oscillations to sync a bit more in time, the pulse of their fields intermeshing into a seamless one.

In this- too, she can hear his 'voice' across that handshake. It rumbles in her processor as if it were whispered near the audials, surprisingly sonorous.

And gently lyrical.

'There are far less limitations this way,' the words vibrate- gently rattling her plating. 'Easier for me to parse words, than rely just on my vocalizer.'

His face is still turned towards her, like nightshade to the sun. Even with the fissures on his faceplates, his expression is not hard to read. There's delight there, at her willingness to link up with him. She can feel it so much more this way, a direct uplink that feeds the packets directly into her system. The delight is palpable, definitive, tactile.

'I am grateful that you trust me,' he continues, mouth still and tilted up at the corners. 'My symbiotes, my companions- they are wonderful to sync with. However, it is different when you do this with someone who has a different handshake.'

He turns that hand again, the two of remaining connected- and brings it to his forehelm to rest there for a moment.

'This is partially what I meant, by intimate. Thank you for letting me share it with you.'

[duplicitcus]

He allows himself a gentle snort of amusement, but she's treated to another one of those rare smiles. This close, it's easier to see the sharp denate he inherited from his Vosnian progenitor- nothing like Megatron's obviously and only the canines. Still, it marks him as other, as Decepticon- given that Autobot dental arches still tend to be flat.

She's given a wave of relief, and of gratitude across his field. He lets it linger, like waves rippling from a rock dropped into a still pond- before he's lifting her hand up and gently brushing open the port at her wrist. The cable sockets in neatly, painlessly- the handshake a neat, tidy thing that suddenly opens up the proverbial floodgates.

Data begins to sync between the two, calmly at first. As he's said, it's a physical sensation for a Host-mech like himself. It ebbs and flows like the tide, each time adding a little data and then withdrawing with the same amount. It allows their spark oscillations to sync a bit more in time, the pulse of their fields intermeshing into a seamless one.

In this- too, she can hear his 'voice' across that handshake. It rumbles in her processor as if it were whispered near the audials, surprisingly sonorous.

And gently lyrical.

'There are far less limitations this way,' the words vibrate- gently rattling her plating. 'Easier for me to parse words, than rely just on my vocalizer.'

His face is still turned towards her, like nightshade to the sun. Even with the fissures on his faceplates, his expression is not hard to read. There's delight there, at her willingness to link up with him. She can feel it so much more this way, a direct uplink that feeds the packets directly into her system. The delight is palpable, definitive, tactile.

'I am grateful that you trust me,' he continues, mouth still and tilted up at the corners. 'My symbiotes, my companions- they are wonderful to sync with. However, it is different when you do this with someone who has a different handshake.'

He turns that hand again, the two of remaining connected- and brings it to his forehelm to rest there for a moment.

'This is partially what I meant, by intimate. Thank you for letting me share it with you.'

A little frisson of delight prickles over his field- and onto her's, at the treatment of his gift. One of those rare little half smiles quirks thin lipplating up and he squeezes her hand ever so carefully. He allows one of the larger data-cables to disengage from the console. It's retracted halfway- and he brings it to where she can see.

The grasping claws are located on the outer edge of the housing, but inside are thinner filaments- not unlike threads, or perhaps- fiber cables. These wave and sway like fronds in an invisible sea, glowing the same indigo as his biolights. At the end of those little fronds are little indents. It's these indents that allow him access to the inner parts of most consoles.

However, they're retracted gently back into the center of the main cable itself- protected by bands of tough protosteel and mesh. This allows them to be strong, resistant, but also flexible.

"Hosts: rare. Soundwave: one of two known remaining. Other: Blaster, Autobot. Location: uknown. Coordinates: last deciphered in Cygus Sector."

He'd kept close tabs on his rival, partially for the fact that there are only two mechanisms that can come close to his talents in hacking and espionage.

And partially because part of him had hoped that once the War ended, they could have reached some middle ground. After all, once upon an eon- Steeljaw and Ravage had been companions, and Sundor had watched over Buzzsaw and Laserbeak. Blaster had been instrumental in the early stages of the Resistance.

He allows himself another deep sigh, though this one silent. A slight moue of something like sorrow ripples across his field before it disappears, and he gives her an apologetic look.

"Apologies. Soundwave: remembering. Memories: some good. Not all."

The spymaster shakes himself slightly, bringing himself back to the conversation at hand. A few notations are made in the formidable annals of his processor, a reminder to see if he can't find his erstwhile rival and attempt to reconcile. There are so few of them left.

"Data transference," he begins- a little stronger this time. "Physical, as well as digital. Uplinks: personal, firewalls bypassed. Soundwave: enjoys." This time, there's a frustrated huff from him. There's words in his processor and on the tip of his glossa, but he can't make them known in the same way she does. From her angle, she can see his faceplates twitch in a myriad of micro-expressions and all of them irritable. Finally, he twists his free hand palm up, and that small data-cable slithers out again. "Arcee: trust Soundwave? Please." Because of his vocalizer injury, his words do not have the same tonal inflection that she does- and as such, come across as a little flat. However, it doesn't mean that he feels any less. His field ripples across her's, asking for permission in ways that his voice alone cannot.

[duplicitcus]

A little frisson of delight prickles over his field- and onto her's, at the treatment of his gift. One of those rare little half smiles quirks thin lipplating up and he squeezes her hand ever so carefully. He allows one of the larger data-cables to disengage from the console. It's retracted halfway- and he brings it to where she can see.

The grasping claws are located on the outer edge of the housing, but inside are thinner filaments- not unlike threads, or perhaps- fiber cables. These wave and sway like fronds in an invisible sea, glowing the same indigo as his biolights. At the end of those little fronds are little indents. It's these indents that allow him access to the inner parts of most consoles.

However, they're retracted gently back into the center of the main cable itself- protected by bands of tough protosteel and mesh. This allows them to be strong, resistant, but also flexible.

"Hosts: rare. Soundwave: one of two known remaining. Other: Blaster, Autobot. Location: uknown. Coordinates: last deciphered in Cygus Sector."

He'd kept close tabs on his rival, partially for the fact that there are only two mechanisms that can come close to his talents in hacking and espionage.

And partially because part of him had hoped that once the War ended, they could have reached some middle ground. After all, once upon an eon- Steeljaw and Ravage had been companions, and Sundor had watched over Buzzsaw and Laserbeak. Blaster had been instrumental in the early stages of the Resistance.

He allows himself another deep sigh, though this one silent. A slight moue of something like sorrow ripples across his field before it disappears, and he gives her an apologetic look.

"Apologies. Soundwave: remembering. Memories: some good. Not all."

The spymaster shakes himself slightly, bringing himself back to the conversation at hand. A few notations are made in the formidable annals of his processor, a reminder to see if he can't find his erstwhile rival and attempt to reconcile. There are so few of them left.

"Data transference," he begins- a little stronger this time. "Physical, as well as digital. Uplinks: personal, firewalls bypassed. Soundwave: enjoys." This time, there's a frustrated huff from him. There's words in his processor and on the tip of his glossa, but he can't make them known in the same way she does. From her angle, she can see his faceplates twitch in a myriad of micro-expressions and all of them irritable. Finally, he twists his free hand palm up, and that small data-cable slithers out again. "Arcee: trust Soundwave? Please." Because of his vocalizer injury, his words do not have the same tonal inflection that she does- and as such, come across as a little flat. However, it doesn't mean that he feels any less. His field ripples across her's, asking for permission in ways that his voice alone cannot.

He puts the datapad where she can see it. The status bar is blank, showing that it's currently devoid of any data at the moment. However, that changes a moment later as the biolights on that cable begin to brighten- showing the download of data. It only takes a couple of in-vents between the two of them before that cable disengages with a soft click, and he hands the pad to her. "Arcee: mentioned poetry. Megatronus: also liked poetry. Soundwave: was never interested. Poetry: began to be interesting. Tool, to be used during riots. Now: to be enjoyed. Soundwave: gives gift. Poetry: mostly Golden Age. Not all. Some: newer, after war." He shrugs quietly, letting her take the datapad with her free hand. Once it's removed from his own, he lets it rest on his opposite side. The deployer also takes a small liberty- by interlacing his digits with her's.

"Yes," he bobs his helm in agreement- oddly expressive without his mask. "Data: stored until needed-" though here he shakes his helm. "Burden: no. Soundwave: enjoys data carriage. Knowledge: worth having."

He has to pause in his speaking, reaching over to take a pull of his filtered energon from nearby. His vocalizer was never properly rebuilt, so speaking for him is usually at a minimal. However, for her, he makes more of the effort as they're still learning how to be around one another without fighting.

Once his vocalizer is reset, and cooled down by the energon- he resumes.

"Data transfer: intimate," he repeats, a little softer. "Data: can be felt as physical sensation. Cables: used for uplink, have sensor clusters. Clusters: sensitive, can be-" he falters slightly in comparison.

Purple optics narrow in thought as he rummages through his language banks for the proper words. The term keeps slipping through his keen processor- and he shrugs, hoping she can get the inference from that.

"Data transference: uplinks for stimulation, affirmative. Uplinks: also used to synch comms. Pleasure: also a use. Partners: few, but enjoyed. Deployers: sensitive. Data upload: also pleasurable."

[duplicitcus]

He puts the datapad where she can see it. The status bar is blank, showing that it's currently devoid of any data at the moment. However, that changes a moment later as the biolights on that cable begin to brighten- showing the download of data. It only takes a couple of in-vents between the two of them before that cable disengages with a soft click, and he hands the pad to her. "Arcee: mentioned poetry. Megatronus: also liked poetry. Soundwave: was never interested. Poetry: began to be interesting. Tool, to be used during riots. Now: to be enjoyed. Soundwave: gives gift. Poetry: mostly Golden Age. Not all. Some: newer, after war." He shrugs quietly, letting her take the datapad with her free hand. Once it's removed from his own, he lets it rest on his opposite side. The deployer also takes a small liberty- by interlacing his digits with her's.

"Yes," he bobs his helm in agreement- oddly expressive without his mask. "Data: stored until needed-" though here he shakes his helm. "Burden: no. Soundwave: enjoys data carriage. Knowledge: worth having."

He has to pause in his speaking, reaching over to take a pull of his filtered energon from nearby. His vocalizer was never properly rebuilt, so speaking for him is usually at a minimal. However, for her, he makes more of the effort as they're still learning how to be around one another without fighting.

Once his vocalizer is reset, and cooled down by the energon- he resumes.

"Data transfer: intimate," he repeats, a little softer. "Data: can be felt as physical sensation. Cables: used for uplink, have sensor clusters. Clusters: sensitive, can be-" he falters slightly in comparison.

Purple optics narrow in thought as he rummages through his language banks for the proper words. The term keeps slipping through his keen processor- and he shrugs, hoping she can get the inference from that.

"Data transference: uplinks for stimulation, affirmative. Uplinks: also used to synch comms. Pleasure: also a use. Partners: few, but enjoyed. Deployers: sensitive. Data upload: also pleasurable."

His field is a calm, even thing- enveloping her's without smothering it. Her field keeps her bubble, but he rests over it like a blanket. It makes it easier to hide her, as well- from roving sensors that may or may not be friendly. Those angular faceplates are tilted towards her, watching her expression as she speaks. "Perhaps," he rumbles softly. "Determination: hard to decide. Mecha: unpredictable. Emotional. Sometimes: misguided." He looks away at that, those wide shoulders gently rising and lowering in an invent. She doesn't have to read his mind to know he's thinking of his own foolish choices.

Following a mech nearly to the road of madness, before being able to pull one's self back.

"Soundwave: enjoys Arcee's observations. Arcee: observant. Soundwave: admires this. Soundwave: prefers blunt speaking. Subterfuge: understood, but not always needed."

The hand she pats turns over, showing the scarred palm underneath. His other servo reaches over to gently take up a different data-pad- humming. A thinner data-transfer cable slips out to socket into a port on said pad. "Soundwave: has thousands of petrabytes of data in frame. Data-banks, partitioned into different subjects." The data-pad is put on his lap as his fingers touch his chest plating. "Data: also stored in safehouses across galaxy. Data: backed up. Arcee: question welcome. Soundwave: can record and download. Soundwave: can download to console, datapad, mechanisms. Download: can be personal. Intimate."

[duplicitcus]

His field is a calm, even thing- enveloping her's without smothering it. Her field keeps her bubble, but he rests over it like a blanket. It makes it easier to hide her, as well- from roving sensors that may or may not be friendly. Those angular faceplates are tilted towards her, watching her expression as she speaks. "Perhaps," he rumbles softly. "Determination: hard to decide. Mecha: unpredictable. Emotional. Sometimes: misguided." He looks away at that, those wide shoulders gently rising and lowering in an invent. She doesn't have to read his mind to know he's thinking of his own foolish choices.

Following a mech nearly to the road of madness, before being able to pull one's self back.

"Soundwave: enjoys Arcee's observations. Arcee: observant. Soundwave: admires this. Soundwave: prefers blunt speaking. Subterfuge: understood, but not always needed."

The hand she pats turns over, showing the scarred palm underneath. His other servo reaches over to gently take up a different data-pad- humming. A thinner data-transfer cable slips out to socket into a port on said pad. "Soundwave: has thousands of petrabytes of data in frame. Data-banks, partitioned into different subjects." The data-pad is put on his lap as his fingers touch his chest plating. "Data: also stored in safehouses across galaxy. Data: backed up. Arcee: question welcome. Soundwave: can record and download. Soundwave: can download to console, datapad, mechanisms. Download: can be personal. Intimate."

He moves carefully to give her room to sit near him if she so desires. Those nimble fingers carefully put down the datapad in order to focus his attention on the slim femme. It always intrigues him, the way she can find conclusions in fits and jumps. Megatronus had always called it hunches, but he'd never experienced them himself.

"Arcee: speaks truth-" he murmurs, those violet optics tracking her movements- though with a decided lack of animosity. He's trained to observe, and even before he became a spymaster- he'd been a warrior first.

"History: important. Lessons: there to be learned, not repeated." He snorts after a moment, his helm vents blowing out air. "This: not always learned. Mistakes: doomed to be repeated."

She'll be rewarded with that raspy chuckle, his expression softening as much as it's able.

"Arcee: not odd. Arcee: has preferences. This: nothing wrong."

One slim finger comes up to touch his chest plating. Underneath are formidable data-banks that house well over a thousand libraries worth of data from all over Cybertron. "Soundwave: is the archive. Data-files: collected from various citystates. Information: recorded. Soundwave: has offsite data-banks for intel download." He peers at her, helm quirking to the side. "Arcee: curious?"

[duplicitcus]

He moves carefully to give her room to sit near him if she so desires. Those nimble fingers carefully put down the datapad in order to focus his attention on the slim femme. It always intrigues him, the way she can find conclusions in fits and jumps. Megatronus had always called it hunches, but he'd never experienced them himself.

"Arcee: speaks truth-" he murmurs, those violet optics tracking her movements- though with a decided lack of animosity. He's trained to observe, and even before he became a spymaster- he'd been a warrior first.

"History: important. Lessons: there to be learned, not repeated." He snorts after a moment, his helm vents blowing out air. "This: not always learned. Mistakes: doomed to be repeated."

She'll be rewarded with that raspy chuckle, his expression softening as much as it's able.

"Arcee: not odd. Arcee: has preferences. This: nothing wrong."

One slim finger comes up to touch his chest plating. Underneath are formidable data-banks that house well over a thousand libraries worth of data from all over Cybertron. "Soundwave: is the archive. Data-files: collected from various citystates. Information: recorded. Soundwave: has offsite data-banks for intel download." He peers at her, helm quirking to the side. "Arcee: curious?"

"i bet you like to read a lot, too."

She'll get a flicker of violet optics, and a faint smile across heavily scarred lip-plates. His data-cables are currently logged into his console- allowing him remote access without being right in front of it. His mask lies in front of him, Ravage already going over it with the micro-tools attached to her nimble claws. She has a bipedal mode, but tends to prefer the quadruped for speed and agility.

And, of course, underestimation- since mechanisms and humans alike are content to think her nothing more than a simple mechanimal.

Soundwave, meanwhile, holds up the book of pre-Golden Age history files he'd managed to scrounge up from his formidable library.

"Soundwave," his actual vocalizer clicks on with a harsh rasp. "Reading texts. History: fascinating. Arcee: agree?"