OPEN | Ride It by Regard on blast

[aurable]

CHARACTERS: Drift and YOU
LOCATION: Simulation Room
DATE: Late April
CONTENT: Driving lessons! + closed starters
WARNINGS: TBD

SIMULATION ROOM

The important thing to remember is to take things slow. And ask me questions as we're going through this. Keep your left foot on the brake pedal at all times until you're ready to move.

[ Drift 'sat' in the passenger's seat where he and his student were parked in the simulation room. The simulation itself was nothing ostentatious or potentially distracting. They were idling in the middle of a nondescript parking lot in the middle of a forested area on a bright, sunny day. It was the sort of place you could find anywhere in middle America near a big box store, only without the store or any visible buildings. Drift wanted to keep things simple and remove the stimuli for dumb stunts. ]

The first thing is to keep both hands on the wheel until you're ready to shift gears. I'm automatic, thankfully. Think of a twelve-hour clock and put your hands at three and ten o'clock. [ A sigh erupts from Drift if the person receiving those instructions crosses their arms at the wrist to be cheeky. ] Alright, but with the corresponding hands — don't get smart.

Before we drive, you'll see two levers between us — the gear shift and the emergency brake. I want you to tell me which you think is which.

[ Hopefully, this wouldn't be too long of a day and Drift's transmission stays in tact. ]

SUNLIGHT ROOM closed to Yennefer

[ There wasn't much sun in the sunlight room. The artificial sky was a dying red ember splotched in the bruised purple of an early evening winding down into twilight. This late into the season, the full verdant green of the meadow had returned, now a carpet of deep blue in the dying light.

Drift hadn't wanted to meet Yennefer during the height of the illusory afternoon. One last means of him cleaving to the mask he had been hiding behind. It was an idea that was ridiculous once he sat down and thought about it. What Drift hadn't been a secret, or even a well-kept one if he had been. A few of the others had found out embarrassingly late into his time here that the man they knew was only a disguise because he tended to isolate himself out of some misguided need not to be a burden.

— And then the situation with Yennefer had turned into a uniquely well-timed mess. Drift hadn't intended to keep anything from her after that night, just as she hadn't expected naked honesty after one encounter. Compounded by the last mission, where they were out of contact through most of it, all she had to go on was a few alarming and understandably hard to believe text exchanges.

Activating his device, Drift sends out one more text — asking Yennefer to meet him in the sunlight room for the truth as promised. Then 'he' sat on the glossy white hood of the vehicle parked in the meadow just off the brook, half concealed in the grass like a crouching predator. There was enough daylight to spare, and the white sheen of this form could be spotted a mile away. ]

WILDCARED

( please feel free to hmu on pm or bretons if you want to write/receive a starter of running into drift anywhere around the station and don't feel like we need pre-existing CR! )

Comments

[aurable]

[ Drift managed to crack a smile at that. Even Yennefer's gentlest reprimands were said with the back of her hand, but that was a quality that Drift certainly appreciated. ]

Who says we're not having fun? [ Snorting, Drift feigns looking shocked and hurt. He wonders if it would be in both their best interests if he should rescind the offer. The drinking happened because Drift wasn't exactly feeling up for a good time, and he didn't know what they'll say if they were both in their cups. In the end, he didn't. That risk was still better than being alone. ]

The second drawer down in the dresser over there. [ Drift nodded to a storage dresser built into the wall. The shelves above it were sparsely decorated — an inornate incense burner, small polished amethyst and moonstone gems, and the holo-portrait turned down on its face. Drift never had much, even back home, and lived like a man who wanted to avoid leaving an impression. ]

No glasses, though.

[choicely]

You and I have remarkably different definitions of what fun is if you believe that. [ Still light, as she ventures a glance back at him over her shoulder and bears witness to his mock-affronted expression, one she can almost see clearly now that she has a greater understanding of the way these features change — with remarkable similarity to his more human visage, all things considered.

She purposefully doesn’t venture anywhere near the shelved items, especially not what looks to be a portrait purposefully redirected away from view given how the others are positioned. It does prove to be something she notes to herself, mostly, before opening the drawer and reaching inside to pull out the vodka, grabbing it around the neck with one hand as the other unscrews the cap and allows it to fall to the floor, rolling off to some distant corner. ]

Not a problem. [ She brings it to her lips for a direct swig, wincing slightly; she doesn’t drink severely or often enough to be dulled to that first sip, but the second one goes down easier, and she gestures to him with her index finger lifted away from the bottle. ]

There. Now we’ll be even once… wait, how shitfaced are you right now?

[aurable]

If I start believing that then we have bigger problems. [ There was a brief moment watching Yennefer rifle through the drawers where his entire posture went painfully rigid. The photograph begged to be noticed by an interloper but he had set it down to avoid it altogether. It invited questions and when none came, Drift visibly relaxed. ]

Not on any level you'll want to be at before the night is over. [ Drift responded with a note of self-deprecation and discomfort. He may have somewhat collected himself that that illusion would drop the moment he tried to stand or do anything more complicated than occupying his spot on the floor. The hangover that would follow was already looming over him, and he wouldn't wish that on anyone. ]

Do you want to sit on the bed? I can't imagine it's comfortable on the floor with someone all metal and sharp angle.

[choicely]

We’ll see about that. [ She isn’t making it her sole aim to get completely drunk, so much so that she loses swathes of the night and wakes up with a throbbing headache, but she’s also not against the thought of drinking enough to enjoy the pleasant buzz that follows, something that numbs the tip of her nose and makes her voice a bit huskier by contrast. ]

I was just about to take it for myself, so you offering merely turns it into a kind gesture rather than me commandeering your bed.

[ Her free hand secured a grip in her skirts in order to make it easier for her to climb up onto the bed without slipping, though she did pause to slide off her shoes first, tucking her bare feet underneath herself as she settled in a perch on her knees, lifting the bottle to her lips once more and taking another sip before peeling off with an audible sound of suction. ] Is it all sharp edges, when you’re like this? Or can you direct me to a smoother curve?

[tochnyy]

Sorry. [ mal winces. that's all familiar too. he feels bad for shocking the other, knows the pain when you get to the point of dry heaving.

so he sets the rifle down against the wall by the door, quickly crosses over to crouch down by the sitting robot. cybertronic? no. mal can't really remember what elthree had called them specifically but he's guessing his roommate is one by his size.

he avoids the green liquid, though he does give it a glance over and dubious look. ] Shit. What is it? [ then a look back at his roommate, worried but really not sure how to help. ] You alright? Need water or anything?

[aurable]

No — AHCK [ Drift started strong, but there was that last stubborn pocket of air and half-swallowed high-grade tickling the back of his throat that got out one last hurrah in the form of a frame-shaking wet, hacking cough. This was all rather embarrassing for a member of a species that didn't need air to breathe. ]

— No harm done. [ Drift shook his head, still shuddering after that coughing smell and cleared his throat. ] High-grade — very potent and very toxic if you're not sporting insides made of metal.

[ He looked Mal up and down, and when the room wasn't spinning counter-clockwise, he looked like a normal, friendly enough person. A little on the young side with that hunted sort of look the newcomers had when they weren't used to technology, let alone Cybertronians. ]

You can put that [ Drift motioned to Mal's rifle ] over on the rack by the swords. There's vodka in the drawer built into the wall.

I'm guessing you're the new roommate.

[aurable]

Are you sure? I thought human alcohol intake was all proportionate, and you're...well. [ Raising a hand, Drift held his thumb in forefinger out in the universal 'itty bitty' gesture. Drift might have been three sheets to the wind, but he was still far too polite to point-blank tell Yennefer she looked a size too small to be knocking them back. Then that sip she took to put a dent in the bottle's contents on the heels of a loud 'pop,' and Drift fears he may have just put forward a challenge. ]

Not sure I'd have it in me to stop you even if I could. [ That would be quite the scene — Local Drunk 3m Robot Who Is Barely Keeping His Head Up Tries To Wrestle Beligerant Woman With Magic Murder Hands Off Bed. ]

What, drunk? [ Drift had to work through the question as one finial gave a slight flick like a cat's ear. ] It's living metal it's not all...rigid.

[tochnyy]

[ it looks painful, mal thinks.

he feels sympathy, his own throats hurts a little watching it. he looks down at the liquid and back at drift, trying to figure out what exactly melted shoes and didn't melt metal. ] Yeah, they seemed to have forgotten to issue those when I woke up.

[ he stands up, goes to move his rifle next to where the swords are stacked. he takes them in, doesn't recognize what they really are but they're who isn't impressed by the size of a large sword? ] Do I have to tap on the wall somewhere or is it in that? [ brow raised he points toward the drawer because what does mal know really. but before drift can answer he's taking a look for himself, finds the vodka and pulls it from the drawer.

he could leave the other to drink alone but, well, mal could use a drink and sometimes having a stranger tell you to put down the bottle is starting on the wrong foot. plus, people tend to let things out if they need to when they think they're talking to someone who won't remember. that's mal's strategy a good chunk of the time.

and then mal's walking back to the bed, throwing his coat off because he already runs warm and alcohol doesn't help. he sits down, holds the bottle of vodka in his lap. ] That would be me. I'm Mal.

What are we drinking to?

[choicely]

A bit more than merely human. [ And certainly well-versed enough in the signs of her own limitations to recognize when she has reached the point of serious drunkenness — although she almost stops to mention the fact that she's actually very good at pretending to be drunk. It had been sufficient enough to fool one firefucker in particular, anyway.

From her position on the bed now, she's at a better angle from which to study him, gaze openly glancing over the shapes and contours of the top of his head, the set of shoulders — and now that he's said it, she can actually see the places where his frame is more fluid than she would have expected, in spite of the armor that makes him up. ]

No, this. Your... bigger form. [ She's not even drunk, and yet she doesn't feel all that inclined to be more eloquent about it, lips curving into a quiet grin when that finial twitches, more than resemblant of an animal perking up its ears. After a considering pause, she reaches out to touch her fingertips to one of his larger digits where his hand lays within reach. ] An inquiring mind simply wants to know how much you can actually feel.

[aurable]

Issue what, a roommate or the vodka? [ Drift grunted, his voice still a touch horse as he wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and settled back in, reaching for the bottle. Every gesture and mannerism was effortlessly human, but Drift always did make an effort to fit in — even by embarrassing accident.

Watching Mal, he wasn't sure if he should get up to help and risk spooking the newcomer with his size. All nine feet of metal tended to be less intimidating when sitting on the floor and half in the bag. Fortunately, Mal navigated the room fine on his own, practically sniffing out that bottle without much direction. ]

Drift. [ Drift raised his own bottle and tipped it towards Mal ] Well, I wouldn't want to drink to being here. See any familiar faces when you got here? One could always drink to friends, old and new.

[aurable]

You'll have to explain the finer details to me sometime when I'm more likely to remember them. [ Drift knows that most aren't capable of the feats Yennefer was capable of or had piercing violet eyes, but he had also never known any personally before coming here. She piqued his curiosity even when he was teetering on a blackout; that much was undeniable.

An animal perking up its ears on catching a familiar scent. Somewhere over the heady smell of two open bottles of potent alcohol, her proximity brought that floral and slightly spiced scent he had come to associate with her. He could never pinpoint where it came from — her skin or her clothes. It was like the flowers and berries were a part of her in place of her own blood and sweat. ]

It gets much bigger off the station. [ Drift said absentmindedly as Yennefer's fingers ghosted over his own with a hand whose palm would barely cover a knuckle. ] Much as you.

[tochnyy]

The metal parts. [ mal says with a soft snort, amused by that question. ] Vodka too but that's settled now.

[ he tilts the bottle toward drift in response, a greeting between them. ] Doesn't seem like the worst of places to end up so far.

[ the question though has mal hesitating for a moment, considering it. it's pointless to hide it when alina's been here so long and they aren't exactly avoiding each other at all, hiding that they are from the same place from strangers. his expression melts, the edges bleeding away to something as friendly as before but softer. ] Yes, there's someone I know here. Alina. Alina Starkov.

[aurable]

Happy to help. [ Drift chuckles, his mood already improving. ] And you're not wrong.

[ For all his wallowing, it was hard for Drift to deny there were worse places to end up. He only needed to talk to just a tiny percentage of the other orbers to get a clear idea that this station, while having its share of perils, was a far better life than what was waiting back home. Sometimes it surprised him that the popular consensus was to even finish their mission.

Drift was ready to put those questions into the bottom of his bottle when a familiar name unexpectedly came up. Jolting upright, only to nearly fall back down with the headrush, Drift went wide-eyed. ] You know Alina?

[tochnyy]

[ from mal's perspective, there's a roof over his head, food available at any hour, and he's free to roam at any hour. it's more consistent than the orphanage he grew up in before signing his life away to the first army.

he's surprised to see drift jolt, doesn't let himself flinch at the sudden movement from a very large cybertronian where he's standing at his full height. he hadn't expected that, not quite so big. not that mal's small either. he watches him for a moment, ready to jump to his side in case that sort of movement leads him to lose his balance in the way mal would after drinking so much. ] We-- We grew up together. You know her?

[choicely]

If you remember to ask me, I'll tell you. [ Part of her is almost counting on the possibility of him not recalling that little piece of the exchange, depending on how much he'd already had to drink before she came to his room, but maybe she's underestimating his capacity for memory; there are still some details that she doesn't fully know about him yet, among them his tolerance for alcohol and exactly how hungover he might be come tomorrow. Then again, knowing that he's been drinking something strong enough to immolate the insides of most ordinary human anatomy points to a higher tolerance overall.

Whether she proved aware of his perceiving her scent or not, she doesn't let on to anything in her expression, and she's mostly fixated on tracing the joints of one of his fingers with practically the whole of her hand, feeling the metal shift and move beneath her touch if he so much as permits a digit to twitch or a knuckle to bend. ]

How big is much bigger? [ He's been contained by the station, to an extent, but she'd been under the impression that his current size was as large as he could ever get in comparison to his human shape. Her hand stills on his index finger and she lets herself feel the warmth of him under her palm as she takes another sip directly from the bottle. ]

[aurable]

[ Drift noticeably perked up, and his eyes went a little bright, clearer. This was a thread in the conversation he could follow that took his mind off the state of affairs that led him down the neck of a bottle. ]

She's been here for several months and is a friend of mine. At least, I hope so — it's hard to get a read on her sometimes.

[spacedisaster]

It looks like you are drinking radioactive waste. [ Peter says from Drift's doorstep, after deciding to peer inside the room when knocking and waiting for a while brought no response. Peter had heard Drift's voice coming from inside, and the affectionate name 'Rattie' being mentioned got him concerned. Otherwise, he wouldn't have tried to invade his privacy. ]

Mind If I join you?  There's too much noise out there.

[I'm worried about you, Peter doesn't say, but he eyes the bottle with more than a little bit of unease. He knew that Cybertronians were one of the most sturdy species in the galaxy, as well as the oldest, but that only made them prone to the biggest mistakes imaginable. Peter could relate. ]

What is that made of? Acidic Alien blood?

[aurable]

Big enough that it's another instance of better to be seen to be believed. [ The non-answer Drift gave was partially out of sparring himself from more scrutinizing questions and simply because he was too exhausted to remember how measurements worked in meters. After all, he had managed to bring that full bottle down to nearly half before she showed up.

The conversation found a lull as they observed one another between sips of their respective rotgut. Drift reflexively flexed his hand, mindful even in his condition not to let her bird bone-thin fingers get pinched in the joints. Yennefer's forearm had turned when he did, revealing her inner wrist. A slash of barely perceptible white ran diagonally across the slender field of fawn-colored skin. He stared at it amount before registering what he was looking at. Not the context or any greater meaning than what was directly before him, only the mark itself. ]

Our species can't keep scars. [ Drift said, thinking aloud and letting the inertia of reduced inhibitions keep that train of thought moving ] Not unless we really want to. We can completely change our frames so many times in our lives that it's virtually impossible to hold onto anything other than our most fundamental parts. [ Eyes narrow, a frown — he realizes something he hasn't thought about in years, decades, centuries, or maybe even millennia. ] I don't think I even remember the body I was born into.

[tochnyy]

[ mal's surprised by that, but the response and enthusiasm earns a smile and then a soft chuckle as his expression grows fond. ] That sounds like Alina.

She's kind of like a cat. If she keeps showing up, chances are good. [ but the fact someone would call alina their friend here, well, that makes this place better than home. ] She likes sweets, if you aren't totally sure.

[choicely]

Then I'll simply have to wait and see. [ Their paths had diverged the last time they'd been off-station, with Drift being sent to a different realm than the one she'd occupied with some of their fellow orbers. If he'd been able to achieve the full capacity of his size while there, she hadn't borne witness to it — but depending on what the next mission might have in store, there's every possibility for it to become a sight she'll have stored away in her memory, the same way that she's become privy to what he looks like in this form.

Preoccupied with swigging directly from the vodka bottle again, she hadn't picked up on the fact that her wrist had turned — or that her sleeve had risen enough to reveal the silverlight scars that still stand out starkly enough against her natural complexion to be distinguishable. She doesn't even realize that he's noticed them until he speaks again, and then her hand hovers over his larger one, fingertips almost imperceptibly twitching as she represses the urge to collect them into a fist and pull it into the shroud of her skirts. ]

I could have had them erased. Enchanted... until there was nothing left to so much as indicate they existed, to begin with. [ Which speaks to the transformation she'd undergone, the agony she had endured to alter her form from its twisted construction into something that could be perceived as conventionally — maybe even extraordinarily — beautiful. She doesn't go into the specifics of what she had sacrificed in order to make a metamorphosis like that possible, and it's a long while before she finally voices a separate admission. ] I kept these, and my eyes, but little else of the body that was initially mine.

[homeostatic]

Sure don't, ( he offers mildly. McCoy proceeds to take a seat at the edge of the mattress instead, continuing the slow progress of that cloth and his cool fingers; sweeping his cheeks and the vents that frame them, tracing the red slashes of his brows up to the points of his finials. )

But I'd be a hypocrite to say so anyway.

[aurable]

It might as well be. [ The room (or maybe his brain) gave a painful jerk, and the edges of his vision blurred as he looked up too quickly in time to see Peter fill the doorway. ]

'Nightmare Fuel' [ He clarified, holding up the bottle and giving it a shake as the bright green dredges sloshed around before he took another pull. ] Showed up in a supply drop awhile back. I never thought I'd actually be breaking into it. [ Then Drift gave a jerking wave to a chair, inviting Peter in. ]

[aurable]

[ Intoxicated as he was, Drift chased that comforting touch of hands worn by years of care with cool, dry callouses. The light in his eyes dimmed and his finials flattened out, almost comical in how they stuck out to the side as he relaxed. It wasn't long before that deep, guttural purr of his engines started to rumble through him. ]

Can you stay awhile? [ Drift asked, quietly and barely audible above the self-calming sound thundering in his chest. ]

[aurable]

[ That bothersome little word monster clawed and stalked around the back of his mind anytime he considered being more forthright with exactly what he was. Even if Yennefer had taken the revelation in stride with all the aplomb that could be contained in the single utterance of 'fuck,' he still hesitated. ]

Sorry — [ The word comes unbidden, not sure why but Drift was compelled when he sensed the tension pulling through Yennefer's body as quick as a drawn bowstring. ] I'm glad you kept your eyes, I like them.

[ Drift had been drinking long enough that any surface thought passed through his mouth like water through an open sieve. His head dropped against the foot of the bed by Yennefer's legs with a quiet thump. ]

My spark casing — it's like my ribcage. It's branded. Not by choice, but as part of a ritual declaring old loyalties from a lifetime ago. Irreparable seared into something I can't change but wouldn't if it were an option. [ He turned his head into the cool fabric of the bed, the weight dipping the mattress into a well that drew Yennefer in an inch or closed. ] I think I understand, why you kept them.

[homeostatic]

As long as you need me to, ( he told him softly, Drift's throaty purr vibrating through his fingers.

After his divorce, Leonard knew hadn't been the easiest to tolerate. Even sensing it was coming hadn't put a damper on his grief, his failure. He failed his marriage, failed his wife, his daughter, and he failed to keep his professional life together in the wake of his personal failures. Drinking himself stupid and lashing out was par for the course back then, unwilling to move on, even afraid to, until he climbed onto that shuttle.

That wasn't to say he knew what Drift was going through, at all. He did know something of the paradoxical need to push others away just as much as he needed them to be there with him.

Leonard dropped a hand away to tug his boots off, before he shifted into a crosslegged seat, happy to keep up the caresses until Drift asked him to go. )