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Last Appointments: Whirl; (closed thread) - see "Last Appointments: Skids" for context
Topic Started: 15 Mar 2016, 05:17 PM (52 Views)
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The little flicks of his digit as he scrolled through the datapad were the only movements of Rung's frame as he sat stiffly at his desk. A few more names were crossed off his list of patients, and here he was, anticipating yet another. Just a few kliks ago he'd braced himself and sent a comm to Whirl.

::Whirl? I have important information to discuss at our next session. Come in anytime you like - just check my schedule for openings as per usual.::

The comm felt so formal, a repeat of the ones he'd sent to the other mechs he treated, but it was the best way to describe the situation without detail. The real suckerpunch would come when they met in person, an event Rung certainly wasn't looking forward to. But it was necessary, vital - his patients deserved to know what happened, deserved to know he wasn't abandoning them, deserved to ask whatever questions they had and express what emotions might arise at the sudden news.

As hard as it was for Rung, he couldn't begin to imagine what it might be like for these bots who'd relied on him for so long to have their therapist pulled out from underneath them. Whatever trust they had in him was sure to be broken, whatever relationship they had, strained.

He had to do it, though. He had to resign. So here he was, awaiting Whirl's response and sadly dreading his eventual reaction, whatever it may be.
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For anyone else, he would have cheerfully barged in, heedless of other appointments or whatever kind of therapy he was interrupting. But this was Rung, and he was the only bot around who actually wanted to listen to him, no matter how grating or offensive he got. Rung was - he was a friend, even if the word was rusted over from disuse, so frail that if Whirl said it too often it'd break.

::Important, huh? I'll swing by!:: he'd sent back, and gone through the courtesy of actually checking Rung's schedule ahead of time. To tell the truth, he wasn't as cheerful as his comm had implied - he'd not been affected by Sunder's rampage, but ship's gossip had spread around its effects pretty damn quickly. The unease in the air had been so thick for a while that he could have pinched it in his claws. Not that he was uneasy. He'd barely laid optic on Sunder, and so what if Megatron was renouncing violence? Just made it that much easier to punch him, didn't it?

(As if that had ever helped, but he wasn't going to think about that, not right now.)

Sliding the door open, he peered through, optic brightening when he spotted Rung. "Ring! What's the news?"

Alright, so deliberately mangling his name for a response was veeeery counterproductive, but he'd feel better if he could get a disappointed (and secretly cross) frown out of him.
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Whirl's cheery comm response almost caught Rung off guard, except that he'd come to terms with the fact that he could never predict what the mech would do or say. He sent an affirmative ping in response and settled in at his desk, trying not to overthink what would come next.

Then, as per usual, Whirl snuck his way in without knocking (thank Primus for the security camera Red Alert had installed in the hallway - it'd saved Rung the embarrassment of being surprised many times over). Rung promptly got up from his desk and greeted Whirl as he always did, a warm smile on his face. It faltered just a bit with the mispronunciation of his name, but all he did was shake his helm in amusement, knowing Whirl well enough to know he was really just baiting him.

"It might take me a little while to explain," Rung replied, looking up almost apologetically into the single optic above him. "Come take a seat wherever you like, or you can stand and walk around if you want. I'm feeling a little restless myself to be honest, so I might work on a ship while we speak - if that's alright?"
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A helmshake! Not quite a frown or an indignant sputter, but Rung knew him too well to be properly offended. He was considerate, which was sometimes a feat Whirl could only marvel at. He kept it up, never wavering, never giving in to anger - at least, not the kind of anger Whirl knew, humming right above the spark. The war was over, and Rung was still careful, still kind.

He really didn't know how he'd managed that.

"Sure, go ahead," he assured him, looking down at Rung and trying not to shift on his feet. "I know how it is... keeping the servos busy helps. Most of the time." Now, it just made him agitated - too much pressure, not enough precision, he couldn't feel it any more. All he had left were memories of how his hands moved, how every connection and loop of wiring had flowed under his digits. And now? Now he was better just holding a gun and squeezing the trigger.

No chance of doing that to keep from getting restless.

"I'll stand, though." He couldn't hold back a curious - and expectant - tilt of his head, though.
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