(Untitled)

[sole_captain]

The dressing room seems to have picked up a new theme with its visitor today. The sound of a variant of ‘Yo ho ho’ drifts around the lockers downed and standing, loud and off-key. Granted the mech humming it stands little more than five feet in his brown armour, but there’s a torpedo about six feet long mounted on one arm and he’s merrily engaged

Comments

Opportunity Senses Tingling

[obstructjustice]

The curious song is owed a curious glance. Barricade has no trouble taking a detour to observe the crime. Except it doesn't look like this is the type of criminal who'd run in a most amusing fashion at the sight of his paint and the sound of his sirens.

He'll just have to settle for looming (because he can do that with this bot). "Well well, what have we got here?"

Re: Opportunity Senses Tingling

[sole_captain]

The stocky Minicon steps back to get a look at him, leaving off his humming and taking a good long leer at the landlubber's strange construction.

"This be a raid, matey," he purrs, tossing the datacube he's just pilfered in one hand. His fingers close around it as he jerks his thumb at his own chestplate. "And this be as ill-sparked a Decepticon pirate as you'll ever lay optics on."

[obstructjustice]

"That is prohibited. Now, show me what I have to confiscate." And is any of it any use to him?

[sole_captain]

Confiscate? Oh, those be fighting words. The hand with the datacube is lowered as Waterlog's optics glint.

"'Prohibited'?" he repeats, rolling the word out contemptuously. "And on whose word is that, landlubber?"

[random_xtras]

Toyrt-Mow looks around as he PINpoints in, the lights of the dressing room glinting off his blue optic visor and his silver bayformer shell.

He pauses and regards the singer for a moment, then snorts and beeps something under his 'breath' before turning toward the energon room.