friends in low places

[nitrodamus]

Who: Sollux, Breakdown, and Knockout
Where: THE TRASH HEAP, where they belong
When: March 6th onward
What: Mingling while looking for spare parts.
Warnings: Everything you'd expect, most likely.

Having had time to grow more accustomed to having his powers back, Sollux almost seems wilder than before. Or more upset about something, at least. He hasn't brought anything up in particular to the two bots he's now working with, but they aren't quite at the point of total emotional intimacy, so it's not really a surprise.

Instead, he throws his effort into overturning vehicles and the like in scrap yards, looking for good bits of metal and supplies. Away from the city, Sollux spends almost all of his time in the air. It's a feeling he's been missing for far too long.

[OOC: I guess we can do this like party style, so we can have one on one threads but also group threads where necessary? IDK LET'S SEE.]

Comments

[buffthis]

Knock Out's still not sure how he feels about having the little troll along -- he simply doesn't let go of a grudge as easily as Breakdown does -- but he can't deny that Sollux will be an especially useful ally when they come up against TRIDENT, and maybe even beyond that. To that end, Knock Out will play nice for now.

That, and Breakdown seems to have taken a liking to him. Knock Out's never understood his partner's occasional fascination with organic life forms, but he'll humor it.

He glances at Sollux, who seems...well, he seems like he's in a mood. At any rate, he's certainly not shy about flinging his psionics around. Knock Out keeps a critical eye out for anything useful, though he's eyeing the Alternian too, a touch nervously. He hasn't forgotten Sollux's impressive display of power after he'd removed the inhibitor collar.

"Don't tire yourself out too quickly, Gemini," he calls out conversationally to him. "I expect we'll be at it a while -- it'd be a shame if you tuckered yourself out before we were even halfway done."

[buffedthat]

It's getting frustrating, digging for scraps with just one arm. He tells himself that it's to fix that little problem, and the fixing will probably be soon now — but it doesn't make keeping his temper reigned in all that much easier. He'd started their little dig in a good enough mood, but as time passes, so does the mood.

It's his third or fourth time discovering that the hulk of an old vehicle he'd meant to shove over and examine for parts is just a little too heavy for one arm alone, and this time he gives a dissatisfied growl when he rams his shoulder into it. Come on, stupid piece of scrap, just move.