This HTML5 document contains 7 embedded RDF statements represented using HTML+Microdata notation.

The embedded RDF content will be recognized by any processor of HTML5 Microdata.

Subject Item

n2:

rdfs:label

Intercepted Package

rdfs:comment

November 29, 2011, 1:37 AM (Barracks, Iacon) --- First Aid is napping on his berth. Then down that hallway, and the eighth door on the left. No, wait, right. Flashover feels a bit too proud of himself for remembering which room his former charges lived in, turning down the aforementioned hallway. He stops outside the door, starting to raise one hand to knock when his foot knocks into something. He looks down with a frown, zeroing in on the small package and reaching down to grab it. When he reads the labelling, his frown only deepens. Wait, wasn't Swivel that femme...? For now, he decides to just shove the package in his subspace, resolving to deal with it later, and knocks on the door.

dcterms:subject

n4: n6: n7: n9:

n8:abstract

November 29, 2011, 1:37 AM (Barracks, Iacon) --- First Aid is napping on his berth. Then down that hallway, and the eighth door on the left. No, wait, right. Flashover feels a bit too proud of himself for remembering which room his former charges lived in, turning down the aforementioned hallway. He stops outside the door, starting to raise one hand to knock when his foot knocks into something. He looks down with a frown, zeroing in on the small package and reaching down to grab it. When he reads the labelling, his frown only deepens. Wait, wasn't Swivel that femme...? For now, he decides to just shove the package in his subspace, resolving to deal with it later, and knocks on the door. Sleepily, First Aid buzzes the door, lifting his head but not getting off the berth. "Did you forget your code again, Streetwise?" Flashover steps inside, chuckling at the achingly familiar sight of a half-recharging First Aid. "He might have, I don't know. But I don't have the code to your quarters, First Aid." He says, crossing over to the younger mech's berth and crouching down next to it. "How are you?" First Aid rubs his optics under the visor and sits up, sliding his legs over to sit sideways on the berth. "Hi. Were you looking for Blades? I'm good, just tired. It's nice getting back to work. Streetwise keeps forgetting he has the door code and knocking instead, I think he's not used to sharing." "Came to see you, actually." Flashover responds, flicking his rotors a little. "Glad to hear you're doing good. They got you working a lot? Though it's not like any of you five ever seemed to know how to relax." He grins, but whether it's at his joke or at the memories his words bring up isn't clear. "Not that much, I'm still on light duty until Smokescreen and Ratchet clear me." First Aid says with a staticky sigh, scooting over. "You can sit, if you want? It's good to see you." He smiles. "What did you want to see me for?" Flashover shrugs slightly and takes a seat next to First Aid, ignoring the way the berth creaks under his weight. "What, am I not allowed to just come visit you?" He teases, nudging Aid as gently as possible. "Call me sentimental, but I missed you slaggers. You spend a lot of time around someone, it gets weird not having them there." His grins falters a little at whatever thoughts that dredged up, but he shakes it off quickly enough. First Aid smiles and leans against Flashover gently. wrapping an arm partway around the large mech in a half hug. "No, it's okay, I'm always glad to see you. Maybe if you have time, you can tell me more of the stuff you remember? I wish I remembered more about everyone and you from before. And Coruscate, too." Flashover hesitates, then nods. "Alright. I should- it should- alright." Whatever he was going to say during those false starts, he lets drop. He watches First Aid carefully for a few moments, having a silent debate with himself. He makes his decision and hooks one arm around the smaller mech, pulling him up and over onto his lap. "Comfy?" He asks, more than a little cheekily. First Aid freezes for a second before leaning against Flashover's plating with a stifled laugh. "I guess I do sort of sound like a newspark, wanting stories. I just- I wish I remembered more." He pauses for a second. "You know that Blades would probably have a fit if you tried this with him. And I don't think Hot Spot would fit in your lap." Flashover chuckles, rubbing First Aid's back subconsciously. "I know, I know, you're not a newspark anymore. Just... Humor me for a little while? I missed you. A lot." He rearranges himself a bit, getting more comfortable so that he can stay there for their entire talk without moving too much. "Yeah, well, Blades hasn't ever been one for tactile slag. And I can fragging try to make Hot Spot fit." He twitches his rotors slightly. "So what did you want to hear about?" First Aid leans his head against Flashover and thinks for a klik. "Did we have any other friends? Before, I mean." Flashover's engine rumbles lowly as he considers how to answer the question. "Not really. You were kinda isolated- didn't get much contact outside me, Coruscate, and the engineers." First Aid nods. "Maybe that's why we're not very good at it." He sighs. Flashover frowns, nudging First Aid gently. "Aw, don't say that! Anyone who doesn't want to be friends with you five is an idiot." First Aid laughs. "I think you're required to say that, as our guardian. /I/ don't think I'm very good at it, anyway. I mean, my brothers, but... well... Blades is Blades, and I wish I could help him more, although he came and trained with us the other day, and that's just... I can't imagine him doing that an orn ago- and then this whole mess with Groove and the Temple." He sighs again. Flashover barely restrains an angry rev of his engine, though he can't stop the way his rotors rattle. "Those charges are bullslag and everyone knows it." He growls, but forces himself to calm down. Being angry isn't going to help anything. "Blades is getting better, from what I've heard. And I don't care if I'm required to or not, it's the slagging truth." First Aid hums noncomittally. "The charges are definitely not fair, and well... I just wish I knew how to help Blades more. I just... I don't know. I'm not very good at any of this. I never know what to say to people." Flashover chuckles dryly at that, rubbing First Aid's back again. "Sorry, youngling, but you're talking with the wrong mech to ask about what to say to people. Coruscate was a lot better at that than me." First Aid sighs and offlines his optics. "I wish I remembered him more, then. Maybe he'd know how to deal with this." "Maybe." Flashover agreed, pulling First Aid a little closer out of habit. "I wish you didn't have to just remember him. But he'd be proud of you. I can guarantee that." First Aid is quiet for a long moment, listening to Flashover's systems, before putting a hand on Flashover's arm and squirming to move back to sitting next to the heliformer on his berth instead. "Do you see my datapad? I fell asleep while I was working on a letter, I didn't mean to. He glances around for the errant datapad.