The Diego Diaries: Days Going Forward (dd8 375)
=0=Later the next day
Prowl walked through the apartment taking mental notes of what it would take to make it more homey. Tagg and Optimus had the children and Kestrel was helping Edict at Full Circle set up the cafe for business. He had most of the day before him and he was going to use it to good effect. :Ratchet:
:What?:
:What are you doing?:
:Getting everyone out of here so I can look around and see if there's anything that's still fallen off and under things. Why? Need interior decorating ideas?:
Prowl snickered. :Actually, I was going to go downtown. Go with and we can have lunch. Catch me up on my loaner child with those guys:
:You mean my impossibly sexy oldest sons?: Ratchet asked with a smirk.
:I don't know who you're talking about:
Ratchet snickered. :Be down in the lobby in a second. Time waits for no mech:
:If you say so, Loon: Prowl said as he commed off. He glanced around the huge space, considered how much he had to do, then stepped out toward the elevator and a day cavorting with the strangest bestie even in his wildest dreams he would never have thought would exist.
The door closed silently behind him.
=0=In the lobby
Ratchet leaned against the wall near the doors listening to a couple of femmes hammer on each other. Apparently they were from the same neighborhood back in the orn and one of them had a bond that was promoted in a job by climbing up the knives he'd stuck into the backs of other mechs including her own. Now that things were equal, the offended femme saw no reason not to kick the tailpipes of her rival.
It was amusing.
Prowl stepped out, slowed as he took in the floor show, then paused next to Ratchet. "This is entertaining."
"I thought so. Femme 1, the little red one has a bond who was overlooked by Femme 2's bond who learned the art of leaving rivals dying in their own energon on the road to the top. Now that things are equal in the power structure she's letting Femme 2 have it. Femme 1 is stand up, I'd say. She's really letting her have it over her bond."
"I see that," Prowl said as they tuned in on the argument.
Femme 1, Lisl was a little bot from Iacon where apparently all of them lived back in the orn. She was bright red, a very pretty effect and was hammering the other, Femme 2 who was named Pica and who was yellow with all her tiny words.
Femme 2, Pica was equally riled but less able to lay out the crescendo of words that Lisl was hurling her way. Apparently, this beef had deep deep roots. The level of invective was rising. Then Pica slapped Lisl. The sound resounded as Pica began to walk past to go to the elevator.
That's when Lisl lost her shit and leaped on Pica with a fury.
"Oh, slag." -Ratchet and Prowl
It was at that point that the elevator opened and Pica's bond stepped out. The other one opened a second later with Lisl's bond. Pica's bond, Taro looked like he was carrying camping gear and Lisl's bond, Steamer wasn't.
Steamer stared at the ruckus, then Taro. Frowning rather majestically, he cried, "YOU!", then ran at Taro to pummel him about the helm and shoulders.
Taro burdened with camping gear dropped it and began to pummel back. It sounded like a zoo at feeding time in the majestic marble lobby of Tower 2.
"Do we break this up or do we let them vent a bit longer?" Ratchet asked.
"I vote for venting. Have you ever tried to break up a grudge match between femmes this angry?"
Prowl asked.
"Not in a while. Its rather instructive. Mini-con femmes have some power. My amma Docker has a punch that leaves a mark and her aim throwing bombs has no match," Ratchet said. He glanced at Prowl with a big smile. "I only tell you that because the statutes of limitations have all run out."
Prowl smirked. "I could tell you tales, Ratchet."
"Personal or professional anecdotes?" Ratchet asked.
"Both," he said as three big mechs walked into the lobby, all of them members of a nearby beat team for the Watch. Apparently, someone had called it in.
"Did you call them?" Ratchet asked.
"No. I rather like the floor show," Prowl said.
The three Watchmen glanced their way, then waved. The biggest was an older mech with two trainees. He walked to the mechs and gripped them as they rolled around on the floor. He held them up by the nap of their necks. "Stop or I'm going to clang you together like cymbals."
They both stopped.
The big mech set them down, then turned to the femmes. He walked over and gripped each of them by a leg. Raising back up, he held them by the leg as they continued to swing on each other. "Stop or I'll clang you like cymbals."
They didn't.
He did.
It was silent for a moment.
Then the screaming continued loudly.
Moments later…
They stood on the sidewalk watching the police van drive away with four warring bots inside. The crowd who gathered began to disperse, gossiping together with amusement over the scene. When all were gone Ratchet and Prowl glanced at each other. With a grin and a hop to the step, they began to walk down the street toward The Home Store. It would be the first stop of many.
=0=The Cafe of Full Circle, Terra, Mars
Edict worked with Kestrel to stock new plates and cups into their slots in the cabinets that lined the kitchen that was off to one side of the dining and bar area. There was a counter with stools for people to sit and eat as well as a larger more comfortable lounge and table area. Edict had a menu of things to make and others to serve, a step up from the mostly baked goods and drinks selection from before. Because he was a high caste and thereby a great cook he would be inundated with customers when word got out.
The neighborhood that formed most of the clientele were lost without their cafe and were waiting with bated breath for the establishment to open again. It would on First Monday, a re-open that couldn't come too soon. Many were the regulars passing by that knocked on the big windows to wave as they hurried to this or that place.
It was fun to wave back as they worked together to put the place to rights. In the bigger space, Joon was setting up two very, very old looms in the outer room while the Weavers Guild was working on three others in the classroom nearby. The stock for the business was being shelved by most of the Squad and the regular staff to get things ready for the grand opening in two more orns.
It was a happy bright place to be.
=0=At the 'store'
Prowl mentally measured the two couches and three chairs that he was just about certain to have delivered to the Residence as Ratchet lounged on another nearby. He grinned at Prowl and his lack of an impulse to just get what he liked without mixing and matching slag for a 'look'. But then Ratchet didn't live in a museum and public space that had to have a 'look' because it had to support the idea of a Prime living there when visitors and guests came.
Like that.
"I like this one," Ratchet said with a dazzling smile.
Prowl glanced at it. "You would. I on the other hand have taste and a sense of what is appropriate for a diplomatic residence of a Prime."
"You do," Ratchet said in earnest agreement. "Having a stick up your aft helps make things clearer I suppose."
Prowl smirked slightly. "Loon."
"Dawdler."
Ratchet grinned as Prowl sat in one of the chairs to test it. It looked very comfortable. "When we had to replace things for the apartment Ironhide wanted a zebra striped couch and a magenta chair. I disabused him of that."
"Sounds lovely," Prowl said as he settled into the couch. It would come with. "Then again, taste will tell."
"Ironhide has good taste. He also likes things that taste good. If anyone ever makes a couch shaped like a bun I know he'll find a place for it."
"Imagine. A pillow that looks like a pat of butter," Prowl said as they both snickered.
"I'll find one that looks like a pile of potatoes and gravy for Prime," Ratchet said as both rose.
Prowl picked out the couches, chairs, some small tables for the 'occasion' and other pieces. Then he walked toward the door with Ratchet following.
"Where now, oh pathfinder?" Ratchet asked as they fell into the mid morning foot traffic.
"First the bakery for a bun, then the Museum Store for some art and such. I'm not having anything from the Museum ever again. We'll get the artists to make recreations if I can't find what I think I need to make the place pop," Prowl said as the crossed the street to head for the Bakery at Metroplex.
"I thought the problem for all of this hustle was that your place already popped," Ratchet said with a grin. He would have a sore arm for his remark but it was totally worth it.
=0=Sitting at a sidewalk table and chairs with a bun and hot drink ...
The crowd was happy, the usual weekend mood in full swing. Games were being played. Kid football was coming and the orn was sunny, if not warm. They watched the folks go by, some waving.
They waved back, then Prowl glanced at Ratchet. "How is Tell?"
Ratchet took a moment to check in, then glanced at Prowl. "He's sleeping again. He was fussy when he woke up but relaxed when they rocked him. Apparently, they're taking turns humming and singing to him."
"Poor baby. That's three kids with deafness issues," Prowl said. "The three of them were all genetic as well."
"Its not as rare as you'd think. The twinnies had a different kind of problem. Their protoform didn't expand big enough for their audials to grow. It wasn't elastic and the opening for the hardware was too small. I'm surprised it didn't hurt them before we found out." Ratchet waved to a former patient. "Tell is just a defective gene. He was the easier of the three. The twinnies will have to be checked at intervals to ensure that the protoform growth matches their development."
"You mean its not over?" Prowl asked with surprise.
"Maybe. Maybe not. I didn't say anything because the kids get over upset and brood so don't say anything. So far, so good. I think its going to hold that way," Ratchet said.
"I hope so as well," Prowl said as he finished his food and drink. He rose, tossed his things in the trashcan nearby, then grinned at Ratchet. "Hurry up, slow poke."
Ratchet stuffed the cinnamon bun completely in his mouth, then smiled.
They nearly recreated the Fight in the Lobby on the street. Soon they were heading for the Museum Store nearby.
=0=TBC 2-24-2022
ESL
invective: (in-vek-tiv) angrily spoken words, swearing, shouting, anything that's designed to make someone feel terrible (spoken) that's delivered with force (emotion)
statutes of limitations: (sta-chutes of lim-ih-tay-shuns) statutes are laws. Some crimes have a period of time in which they can be prosecuted. Those laws that limit a crime's prosecution to say 4 to 8 years are called the statutes of limitations. If you rob a bank and don't get caught before the time runs out you can't be prosecuted. Yeah. I can't believe it either.
dawdle(r): (dah-duh-L, or dah-duh-lur) the act of being slow and taking your time, driving others to madness sometimes, someone who is slow to keep up, who hangs back while the dawdler is the slow poke.
occasional tables: we always called them end tables or just little tables. They sit in people's houses to hold their drinks, for lamps and the like. Why they call them that, I don't know.
bated breath: waiting with excitement for something to happen, like getting a reprieve from something happening to you.
