[OPEN] Here we go watching the sun go round...

The last time Anders attended a housewarming, it was because Hawke moved into that big mansion. At the time, she'd told everyone not to worry about bringing a gift, seeing as at least three of them lived in poverty.

But Anders still brought a little something to welcome Knock Out to his new living space.

Anders looks up at the rather large housing, wondering if it has a doorbell, or an intercomm.

Although there's no doorbell or intercomm, there's something even better: sensors! So Knock Out's informed that there's someone at the doorway within seconds of Anders stepping up to it. He wasn't sure anyone would necessarily care that he'd moved from Jeopardy #003, but somehow he's not surprised it's the mage who's arrived.

"This is the first time I've had to answer my own front door in a long time," he remarks upon the tall portal (they'd overbuilt the doorways especially, so it was in excess of forty feet) being pulled open and looking down at Anders.

One never knows when they might have to call upon or visit a local Cybertronian, and it pays to know where they live.

"I'm sure you'll get used to it," Andres replies with gentle snark. The whole situation is almost comical looking, what with the size differences between Anders and Knock Out, as well as Anders and the house.

"I even brought a housewarming gift," Anders raises the paper bag in his hands. Inside are a few car cleaning products, mainly wax and some glass cleaner, and a very large beach towel. He honestly wasn't sure what Cybertronians would want in a housewarming gift. The beach towel is meant to serve as a cleaning rag, seeing as Knock Out has larger hands than a human.

Knock Out closes the door behind them and leans down to pluck the offered paper bag from the mage's hands to open it with the tips of his claws; it's astounding really, that he can be that dexterous with them. When he sees the contents, he's all smiles and obviously pleased by the gift. "Why thank you Anders, these will get put to good use."

Now if he could just convince Riptide to spend some more time on his appearance.

The interior of the house looks almost startlingly normal. Past the entryway there's obviously a living room and past that, a hallway that leads deeper into the house.... everything's simply Cybertronian-sized. There are plenty of windows, which is good because it's basically the same temperature inside the house as outside of it, no hum of an air conditioner or the like to cool the air. There's not as many soft surfaces, and a good deal more metal where human living spaces would use wood, but all the basics are there: couch, chairs, bookcases, a dining room table. Aside from the scale, it doesn't look alien at all.

"It came together faster than I was expecting," Knock Out was saying.

Anders once read an Earth fairy tale about a boy who finds himself in a giant's home. That's how Anders feels right about now. Or like he's a doll in a dollhouse that's not the right scale.

"I like what you two have done with the place."

He runs his hand along the side of the armrest of the couch. Somehow he didn't picture someone like Knock Out sitting on a couch, mainly because every time he's seen the Cybertronian be idle he's been in car form.

Anders does look kind of incongruous standing next to the couch with everything towering over him, and Knock Out regards the effect for a moment before giving a sort of exasperated, but somehow indulgent, sigh before asking, "Would you like a view that doesn't coincide with the floorboards?"

Hey, at least he's progressed from just grabbing random humans up.

Anders cranes his neck up to look at Knock Out, more or less proving the Cybertronian's point. And he thought Qunari were tall. He wonders if this is how dwarves feel around humans, or Void, how dwarves feel around Qunari.

"I would like that, yes."

The medic bends down again to lay his hand flat along the floor. He's picked up Anders once before in his workshop to carry him to the workbench, but that was only for a few seconds. His claws form a sort of rounded ridged shape for his palm, but unlike the tips, it isn't sharp.

Once Knock Out straightens back up, Anders will have a better view of the room and it still looks... strangely normal. There's not a lot yet in the way of decoration, so it does come across pretty utilitarian.

"First time I've had a living room in a while too," Knock Out muses, more to himself than to Anders. If it wasn't moving from battlefield to battlefield, it was being stationed on this ship or that one, one Decepticon encampment to another, to the front lines and back again. The Nemesis was the most stability he'd had in vorns, and given everything that was happening back home, that was really saying something.

He seems to shake himself from a bit of reverie and move through the living room. "So we constructed a galley, even though we don't really cook. Though you can make energon into all sorts of treats, which at least breaks it up from just drinking it straight."

Anders instinctively holds onto one of Knock Out's fingers as he's lifted, taking a look around the house, finding it almost normal-looking. He's honestly not sure what he was picturing for a Cybertronian's living space, other than it being large.

His grip on the finger tightens slightly when Knock Out starts moving, wondering if he should just sit in his palm.

"Energon candies?" Anders looks up at Knock Out, a small smirk playing across his lips.

It probably would be more stable if Anders were to sit, so Knock Out adjusts his hand position so that it makes more of a flat surface. It's a little awkward to hold his arm like this, but it's workable. It won't be for too long anyway.

"Candies, treats, all sorts of goodies, they can be flavoured them with additives-- you used to be able to buy them on street corners, there was an amazing shop just off Trion Square in Iacon that sold sour energon sticks that really packed a punch."

Down the hallway they go, wide enough that two mechs can pass side by side without brushing, and Knock Out pushes open a door to what looks oddly like open-aired shower stalls. "Wash racks," he noted. "There's only so many times one can go through the automated car wash before it just doesn't cut it."

When Knock Out moves again, this time Anders does sit down, not wanting to lose his balance. He gently and slowly shifts so that he's cross-legged in the Cybertronian's palm. He still keeps a hand on Knock Out's finger, just to be on the safe side.

He gazed curiously at the wash racks. "Plus, I imagine the car wash doesn't get all the little nooks clean."

"It does not," Knock Out confirmed primly, which had led to more than one night sitting behind Jeopardy #003 with the garden hose in root mode, trying to reach all the spots that it hadn't. Honestly, his housemates there had probably thought he was glitched in the head, but he refused to go around being grungy since his arrival. The medic had spent an embarrassingly long time in the wash racks once they'd finally gotten them built and working.

The back half of the house is dedicated to personal rooms, and where it's really obvious that they built the place for more than just the two of them: there are at least six room units. They appear to be modeled almost after a dorm, with a small desk in the corner but the majority of the space is taken up with the sleeping berth. It might not look that comfortable to a human, but having one after months without is nice. He's frankly done with recharging in his alt mode for a while.

Other than Knock Out's datapad on his desk, the room looks spartan still. "Haven't exactly gone all out with accumulating decorations yet," the medic says dryly.

The other areas of the house are more for function than form: there's an energon storage tank room, a utility room with tanks for pumps for feeding solvent to the wash racks and the like. Hardly tour-worthy places, but the house does seem like it's fully functional and self-sufficient.

"I could always bring a few ferns over next time," Anders quips. He's not sure ferns can grow big enough to be proportionate with Cybertronian housing. "Or a palm tree, or giant cactus."

"Is that a challenge to see whether I can actually growing something without killing it?" Knock Out needled, even though he's fairly certain that's not what Anders meant. "Because I'd take that wager."

"You'd prefer plastic, then? Not sure they make plastic plants large enough," Anders returns the quip with one of his own.

He looks around at the room again. "Well, I'm glad you and Riptide have a place to stay that isn't so cramped."

"Oh no no, now I'm invested in this experiment of yours," the medic says, feigning complete seriousness. "One living plant there shall be, to see if I can keep it alive for at least a year. Shouldn't be too hard."

"Well, in that case, remind me to bring a tree next time I come over," Anders replies, still playing along with Knock Out, smirking up at him. "It wouldn't last a week."

"A week? I'm offended."

After all, if he could keep Silas alive for months, surely a plant has to be easy? Either way, he likes a challenge.

Knock Out returns to the main living area and sets Anders down on the table. "Did you choose to stay in your assigned housing, the one you got when you arrived here?"

Anders stands back up as Knock Out deposits him on the table, stepping off his hand, before turning around and craning his neck up to face the Cybertronian.

"I did, yes. I didn't really see any reason to move out."

There's nobody from his world he could share a house with, nor does he require special living arrangements.

Knock Out hums thoughtfully at Anders' reply. "I didn't mind the housemates, for the limited amount of time I interacted with them," he speculates. Not actually living in the house, and being regulated to spending nights in the driveway, certainly cut down on the amount of communication he had with them.

"But I figured if I'm going to be stuck here for however long, I might as well be more comfortable."

"You have a point, given the size comparison. It would be like me trying to live in a dollhouse. Except I probably wouldn't even fit in a dollhouse's driveway."

Ritpide... isn't actually around all that often. It's not a new thing while he moves in, but simply just how he is. He never really liked spending too much time in his housing unit. He's mostly back every few days to refuel and sleep for a little while.

Eventually, though, Knock Out might find him in the small communal area quite early in the morning. Like, it's still dark early. Sitting with his chin resting on his fist.

"This is weird, isn't it?" he asks, when he gets a ping that Knock Out is nearby.

Knock Out had given a surprising amount of input on the design and construction of the house during its build, but mostly in the structural category. It was likely an odd thing for him to have recommendations on considering his medical background, but he doesn't volunteer an explanation. He's pleased with the end result, and it certainly beats sleeping in a driveway, and the official "move in date" is welcomed.

He does note that Riptide is less present around the house than himself, but there could be any number of reasons for that and he's not the Autobot's keeper, in any case. This will certainly be an adjustment for both of them, and they'll settle into things at their own pace, though at least they've had several months of getting used to one another before this point.

Knock Out hadn't expected to not be able to settle into recharge, nor the associated staring at the ceiling that had come with it for several hours. Finally, exasperated, he got up, retrieved his datapad, and wandered out into the common area.

Riptide's question stops him for a moment. "Good morning," he says wryly. "Which part?"

It was slightly unexpected, but Riptide does know better than to ask about these things, now. It was a long war, he figures. They all picked up new skills along the way.

He does not give Knock Out's question much consideration. Just shrugs.

"Pick one."

"That's helpful," Knock Out returned, optics rolling.

He sat at the table and opened the scheduling file for Vehicon maintenance on his datapad, and began making changes to it. Shuffling rotation spots around to accommodate different repairs. Making sure there were enough Eradicon parts listed in inventory since they were a smaller pool of soldiers to work with. There weren't any Vehicons here and the datafile would probably be wiped when he Ported back to his world anyway, but it was something mindless to do.

"Are you regretting having agreed to this?"

"No, not at all," he says immediately. That's not a lie. He's not actually been untruthful about anything to Knock Out since they met. "I don't know. I guess I'm just not used to having a house. I didn't even really want to settle on Cybertron when the war ended."

"Being in one place. It's not bad, but it's gonna take a while to get used to, y'know? I'm still not used to being on one planet, though I think on both those counts you get that too."

Knock Out definitely got it. He'd been shuffled around one posting to another for a very long time, his medic skills always in demand, and his own manipulations to make sure he and Breakdown didn't get assigned too far apart. In a way, the chaotic movement among the Decepticon fleet had become a new normal. Always a new planet to see, always some fresh battlefield to get thrown onto. A routine that had swept them along for so many millennia seemed like the only steady thing to hold onto.

"I understand," Knock Out agreed. "I was hardly enamoured of Earth when the Nemesis was first stationed there. I thought it was just another backward organic planet covered in entirely too much water, perhaps good for a resource mining stop and little else, until we discovered raw energon deposits."

Which had then led to them discovering that the Prime's band had also been hiding out on Earth, and any plans of peaceful stripping of the planet and going along their merry way was soundly tanked.

"And that turned into three years of uninterrupted energon scouting, which let me see a lot of the planet and find things that made it tolerable. And then this version of it, where we are now? Not having to hide all the time is a nice change. We're even something of celebrities, who can complain about that?"

It wasn't Cybertron, of course. But until the war finally came to a close with their victory -- soon, he reminded himself, soon and we're going to win -- it was an acceptable if lackluster alternative. Knock Out taps a few more changes onto the datapad file and then glances back up at Riptide with a question of his own.

"Was that why you signed aboard the Lost Light, because Cybertron seemed too confining?" the medic asks curiously.

Riptide hums lightly, curling a hand under his chin as he listens. "I'd never been to Earth before this. The war touched it, but I wasn't part of the squad that was on it. Reckon I was on some other weird little mudball when everyone called it."

Ah... the Lost Light. He'd not expected that one.

"Kind of. Everyone that signed up wanted to leave for one reason or another. Start again, sate the wanderlust. Anything, really. I didn't know what to do with myself and my two best friends were on it..."

Oh, Pipes. He sighs.

"...So it seemed like the best idea. It's why I joined it the second time, too. A crew that saves the galaxy together stays together, y'know?"

Ah... Knock Out definitely got the feeling he was treading near something of a complicated topic with that one, so he leaves the subject of the Lost Light.

"So now a house here feels a little too... permanent?" he suggested. "You can always regard it as just another posting, if you think that would help. You and I are both just putting in time here, you know that."

Barring any multi-universal catastrophes, they'd only be imPorts for so long before being sent away again, as was apparently the custom within a few years. Even the longest tenured imPorts were here less than a decade.

"Or is there something else on your mind?"

"Yeah. Did I tell you about the jump? I don't remember..."

He's pretty sure he's only told a few people about that, and he's not so sure most of them are still around.

"No, you got it, pretty much. It's just weird being planet-side. What was the Nemesis like?"

They're right, you know.

[That is said very clearly to the sore loser and Mizuki only grins at the glare she's given.] You were slow compared to them.

[She'd watched the whole thing from start to finish and it was, honestly, an exhilarating match. Finding out the driver(??) was an imPort and a giant robot made it even better. The race itself was also something she really, really, really wished she could be in. But no. She was 12. And short. Tiny even, and outside racing car games, she couldn't - or wouldn't be allowed.

Not like back home when she could just go to the beach, call one of the Ride Sharpedo and then Nyooom~ across the bay as fast as they could go, or call on a Ride Tauros and gallop around Alola in general.

Anyway, she cranes her head up and up to look at the robot. The voice is familiar and so Knock Out gets her full attention.] What kind of torque are you doing, anyway, um... Mister? Miss? It's super fast!

[Help. How does gender of robot??? It sounds male, yet at the same time, it's a robot and she knows looking like X doesn't mean X. Case in point: Primarina.]

Edited (html fuck ups) 2019-09-25 16:21 (UTC)

[ Knock Out just smirks as the sore loser gets back in his car, slams the door, and drives off before turning his attention to the minuscule human whose voice he also recognizes. This was the little atom of sunshine who commented on his network post, the painfully naive one. ]

You humans and your insistence for gendering everything. Technically neither is correct, but let's go with "Mister" if you really insist on the title... less confusion that way.

[ But he's pleased enough to talk specs with her, if that's what she wants. ]

I scanned the base model at 420 foot pounds, but I've improved that output significantly. That Chevy big block may have higher torque, but tops out at around 430, 435 horsepower max, and I've got 510.

Oh! So you're like a 'they', like genderless pokemon-

[It's the best frame of reference she has for not male or female. Anyway, there's a serious nod as if she had committed it to memory. Which, she did.

And then her eyes go comically wide as she stares up in shock and literal awe at Knock Out.

It's as if she's found her new best friend and given how much of a zoom-zoom speed junkie she is-]

... You can go that fast?

[ He has a vague recollection, thanks to other imPorts, of what a "Pokemon" is. He's not entirely sure why that's the parallel she's drawing, but he'll go with it. Honestly, whatever pronouns anyone chooses to use are so ancillary that he probably wouldn't notice either way. He continues to bask under her evident amazement. ]

Over three hundred kilometers per hour, yes. Of course that's nothing compared to my original alt mode, where it was normal to break the speed of sound, but it's more than serviceable for this planet.

Besides, I look exceptional wearing it.

[If her eyes could go any wider, they would.

As it is, she's literally just staring, open mouth and with no amount of awe.

And, despite how mature she can be, she is 12. And she is a child. She just has to ask.]

You do! You really do and I'd love it if I could have a ride in going that fast. It'd be the best thing ever and ever and-

[And then she goes bright red, face in hands with a muffled-] I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude!

[Why can't she have the power of sinking into the ground RIGHT NOW?]

Yes, that was a little rude.

[ The rebuke is very mild however, and Knock Out does not seem put off by her request having slipped out. He can count on one hand the number of people he's allowed to ride in his alt mode since arriving here, and they've been people he's gotten to know, for the most part. ]

But you like going fast, hmm?

I'm sorry.

[She does flinch a bit at the rebuke, shoulder's hunched.

But then the question comes- She nods earnestly.]

I do. I really do. It's the biggest rush ever. It's like flying, but not really, because flight's freedom, but the speed- That's like. You get a speed high and when you finsih, it's like you can do anything in the world.

[She is a pint-sized adrenaline junkie.] And it's differant than winning a pokemon battle.

Apology accepted.

[ And then she describes speed, and it's not the most eloquent thing Knock Out's ever heard, but the emotion is there and right, and he's just a tiny bit appreciative. ]

Oh, so you do get it.

[ He reaches down, has to kneel because she's so small, to poke at her arm with a single claw that's longer than she is tall. ]

You're not hiding a little racer's frame inside that squishy sack, are you? You'd fit right in on Velocitron, talking like that.

What's a pokemon battle?

Of course I do- and I don't know? Maybe?

[Yes, she is a racer at heart. Or speed junkie at least.]

Going fast is the best. Sharpedo racing, rapidash racing- If if I had one, I'd want to race you, as they'll race trains and it could maybe beat you?

[She doesn't actually know. But, if you thought her eyes were shining, they are not mini-suns of excitement.]

They're only the second-best thing. I did my island challenge because it seemed like fun, and I'm good at battles. But the real thrill of a battle is in the heat of it, when you don't stop to think, when you go as fast and as hard as you can and hope for the best.

I know, I know! I think Lance is still here. We could battle and you can see a high-level and you'll see how fast it can go. It's not as good as racing, of course. But it shouldn't be, because racing and a battle's two totally different things.

[..and she's practically bouncing on the spot.] Oh- I could race you on An'nai. She's fast, or she seems fast enough?

[ Knock Out scoffs when she says that maybe those two... whatever they ares... could maybe beat him. He's too vain to think that any living organism can match his speed. The idea of watching one of these battles is intriguing though. ]

Very well, I'd like to see your battle.

Who or what is an An'nai?

[She claps with an ear to ear grin- then promptly sends out An'nai, the owl very much bigger than Mizuki by at least a few inches.]

This is An'nai. She's a decidueye and is my starter. She's really soft and awesome and fast, too.

[Contrast to Mizuki's near literal bouncing enthusiasm, An'nai, on the other hand, looks like she has some idea of where this is going and wants no bar of it. Sharpedo racing is one thing. Racing with her child-trainer on her back? Yea. That's a completely different thing.]

[ Knock Out gives the creature a passive scan, but of course it doesn't register as any Earth fauna, certainly not at that size, so he tags it with the 'decidueye' label and files it away, not sure what to make of the "starter" term. ]

Fast, hm? I suppose we'll see.

She is! An'nai, An'nai. Show him!

[There's a bit of a look before the owl pokemon acquiesces to the request. It's a bit of an awkward ground take-off for the giant bird, but eventually, she gets into the air, where she starts to pick up speed. Speed that is silent and fast, though she's not trying to mask her presence. Not today. Not as fast as a car, but it's still fast.

Knock Out may see what happens next, once Mizuki's pulled out an apple and tossed it away from them.

In a tenth of a second, the following break from all known logical physics happens: The decidueye plucks an arrow quill from within her wing, bends said wing up while pulling on one of the green vines and closing the 'hood', and then basically expertly archery snipes the hell out of that apple.

And promptly returns soaring with no loss of altitude.]

[OPEN] Here we go watching the sun go round...

I.

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Street Racing-road tracks

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Sorry for the late :<

no worries!

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