[closed]

[redcosmedic]

WHO: Knock Out & Cecelia
WHERE: De Chima
WHEN: Mid October
WHAT: It's about time these two actually met!
WARNINGS: Possibly sads


While De Chima was not a city that Knock Out spent an abundance of time in, he supposed it was pleasant enough. It was a scientifically-minded community with its plethora of hospitals and colleges, and if it weren't so damp all the time, Knock Out might have even considered changing up his Jeopardy home address -- or at least he might have before his new housing had been built.

He was committed to Jeopardy now, even if the house was empty now except for himself. But! That meant that there was no one to nag at him when he used all of the hot solvent in the washracks first thing in the mornings.

It was the medical division that brought Knock Out to De Chima today, overseeing the installation of new scanning equipment in a private, two-story clinic near downtown that specialized in rare genetic disorders. While the medic didn't generally want Cybertronian technology in the locals' hands, this was merely an augmented scanner that he'd built specifically for this purpose as a pet project. It would detect minute variations in DNA markers that human equipment couldn't measure in such small degrees yet. If it went well, it would change a lot of lives.

Knock Out was parked on the side street outside the clinic in alt mode while his holo-avatar was attempting to coach them through the initial installation, but the lab techs were having a bit of trouble combining the Cybertronian hardware with Earth software.

"That hooks into the-- yes, there. Now bring that coupling forward to... no, now you've inverted the feed. Did no one read the diagrams I provided? Oh for..."

Deciding the holo-avatar was not a sufficient source of direction, Knock Out reverted to root mode at the sidewalk's edge, his height bringing him up to the second floor windows of the lab where he could watch them directly through the windows. "Let's try that again."

Comments

[adamantlyardent]

Cecelia is very good at tuning out other people's business and making it just noise -- unavoidable noise out on the street, which only makes it irritating at best. Still, suffer she shall, as one must in order to remain part of society... Daily she wonders if it's worth it, and yet this time, in wandering back toward the shop after lunch, she hears among the daily din a sound she knew to be quite unique. It's hard to explain exactly what that sound is, other than Riptide's, and it's why, with her heart leaping into her throat, she forgets her gripes and chases the source of the sound, nearly flinging herself directly into the source upon the sight of a towering shadow ahead of her.

"Oh! Oh, Riptide! I knew it was you, I--!"

She stops short with a gasp and bounces backward a step, her hand going to her mouth. She hadn't expected to be wrong, but here she was -- very wrong indeed. This isn't Riptide at all...!

[redcosmedic]

Knock Out had not been expecting anyone to pay him much mind; this was an imPort city and the locals were somewhat inured to seeing them, even if said imPort happened to top 20 feet tall. He certainly didn't expect someone to come at him with such fervor, only to back off at once when she saw he was not the mech she'd assumed him to be.

Normally he'd have offered something sly and witty -- true, he knew he cut a rather more striking figure than Riptide ever had, something to that effect -- but there's something in the way she seems genuinely distressed at her error that has him forestall the quip before it comes out.

Knock Out glances inside the clinic, sees that the lab techs seem to have a handle on things for the moment, and then gives his full attention to Cecelia. "I'm afraid not," he answers to her aborted, incorrect identification of him. "My name in Knock Out."

[adamantlyardent]

"O-oh..."

The dread in her error is pretty heavyset in her, yet there's always room for more shame! Gods, is she a robot-racist now? Running at the first sound of that transforming sequence and just assuming it'd be dear Riptide? They don't look anything alike and she knows it, though! She's definitely not a robot-racist!!

"For-forgive me," she utters, looking down, mortified. "I let my--I mean, I was just hoping it was--"

Yes, Cecelia. Tell the 20-foot machine-man you're disappointed in his existence. It's fine!

"I mean!" She pops her head back up, straightening up, eyes big. "It was my fault for! Making such a snap assumption! I'm sorry. I, I heard about you. From...from him. So--"

[redcosmedic]

One of the things that had surprised Knock Out when the Nemesis had first been stationed to Earth, when he'd first started to observe humans, was how similar a lot of their behaviour was to Cybertronian mannerisms. They reacted to many of the same things — insomuch as a species having only a mere five senses could — and they displayed those reactions in similar body language to mecha, albeit without the aid of flexible kibble. In three years of energon scouting all over the world with his partner, Knock Out had had the chance to observe (he liked to think) more humans than his average Decepticon brethren. And with nearly a year of imPort tenure under his midline coupling, the medic was almost ready to declare himself an expert on them.

But this.

This was almost theatrical.

Knock Out watches Cecelia go through no less than three distinct emotional turnabouts in the span of a minute, and every one of them was clearly, vividly on display. It's fascinating to watch, and he almost misses the content of the stammering apology as he leans over, a bit closer to her.

"Apology accepted," he replies, deciding to get that part out of the way first. For as strong as her reaction to thinking he was Riptide to make sense, this has to have been one of his many friends, possibly a close one.

"And what did you hear? Only good things, I hope."

[adamantlyardent]

"Um."

Yes? She'd like to say yes, but...as she quickly wracks her memory, good isn't the first thing that comes to mind. She fidgets in place uncomfortable, averting her gaze before a pulse of frustration gets her to scoffing.

"Well, like! Something about being on, like, opposite sides of a war or something? Don't you dare think I have any opinion or any interest in seeing anything of the sort enacted out here, by the way." She shoots a sharp look up for a hot second -- about as long as she can comfortably test her luck with being short-tempered when someone could easily step on her for it.

Red-faced and stiff-postured, she clears her throat.

"That aside, I know he was sharing living quarters with you. Out in the desert. I saw it. It's..."

Hideous.

"Very large."

[redcosmedic]

Cecelia's "um" seems to give Knock Out the answer he was expecting, but he's not offended, just amused.

"To be expected. Yes, we are on opposite sides of our war, but I agreed with him there was no point to continuing it here. His war was over, anyway." Ended in the most implausible way imaginable, no less, and one that Knock Out can't foresee his own reaching, but that's besides the point. The medic raises an optical ridge at her vehemence glare shot upward toward him.

"If it soothes your principles, if other Cybertronians show up, I intend to offer them the same proposition that Riptide offered me: put aside the war agenda while we're here. A truce makes sense in a place like this. Hopefully anyone else that arrives will see that."

He tilts his head minutely when she says that she's seen the new housing. "Yes it is," he agrees, not knowing where her actual train of thought on its was. "It certainly beats having to sleep in someone's driveway."

[adamantlyardent]

Well, good. It's good to know the likelihood of robot-based warfare will be added onto the heap of troubles this realm already serves freshly and on-the-regular. Cecelia gives an annoyed sniff all the same, just at the prospect; it's easier to scoff at such things when there's assurance of no consequence, after all.

"Yes, well..." Her eyes wince, rapidly becoming crushed by the weight of having to carry a conversation with not-Riptide. "I'll hope Riptide's absence is brief all the same. Perhaps it'll be a boon to you as well. Otherwise, well...Enjoy your solitary lodgings?"

[redcosmedic]

"Yes, well... I suppose the silence has some minor value to it."

It had been the better part of a month since Riptide had vanished, past the usual time frame for imPorts to typically reappear, but he doesn't note aloud what they both obviously know.

But he, too, hopes that Riptide will return. Even though he and Knock Out had kept mostly to their own circles, and their daily lives had little overlap, it was still nice not to be the only one of your species present among the imPort population. And while if pressed, Knock Out was more likely to say that he really only missed the steady supply of expensive waxes that Riptide had curated for him, the truth was he'd much rather have the Autobot present than sent away. Knock Out isn't used to being a solitary mech.

Even from his height, he doesn't miss her wince.

"I'm making you uncomfortable," he observes matter-of-factly. "Why?"

[adamantlyardent]

"Un...comfortable?" she echoes, uncomfortably. Her mouth twitches in tandem with one of her ears. "Ha, what? No? Well, not like--not like any more than anyone I barely know would? Like, it's not that special. I'm always..."

A mess. Clearly.

She clears her throat. Uncomfortably.

[redcosmedic]

Knock Out looks about as skeptical as one might expect from an answer like that, but he's saved from answering by sounds of triumph and a babble of voices coming from the open lab window he'd been looking into before Cecelia had approached.

"Oh good, I think they got it working. I did try to make the instructions as simple as possible."

Then, straightening and turning back to look down at the redhead, his vocalizer makes a soft pop of static; a noise of... acknowledgement? dismissal? perplexity?

"My mistake, then. And for startling you."

[adamantlyardent]

Cecelia's ears twitch at the noise, herself straightening and listening as well. They twitch again at that static, and she once again draws her shoulders up, as if braced for something worse than just a dismissal.

"I-it's fine," she assures, clutching at her shawl. "I mean, it's...not like you did anything? It's my fault, basically, so. You know. Sorry. Um. You're busy, so I'll...I'll just..."

She starts backing up.

[redcosmedic]

Knock Out considers her a moment longer, red optics studying Cecelia carefully before he smiles. Whatever is obviously troubling her, it's her own business, and he's not so invested as to pry further.

"Of course, I should get back to work," he replied. "Next time we run into one another, we might even have a proper introduction where I get your name."

[adamantlyardent]

"Cecelia."

She pops that out rather quickly, if only out of practice with propriety. Sometimes such breeding can trump one's nerves...rather, such things can help ease them; a dose of familiarity in a strange situation.

"Cecelia Ardenbury. Yes. Sorry. My manners...flew out of mind in the moment, I'm afraid."