[Arrival] [He wasn't sure when he'd offlined his optics. It was at some point after they'd crammed themselves back into the Necrobot's hideout, after he and Rewind had talked about using his weapon against the hundreds of Decepticons outside. It was also after he'd seen Nautica draped over Skids, after he glanced at Ratchet and his old friend couldn't quiet meet his optics. It was definitely after he wanted the world to swallow him whole.
He'd been doing so good with burying everything under his quips and cheerful attitude. He'd even got a few good shots in on Magnus' shoulder turrets without having a complete mental breakdown (leaking was something he didn't have any control over, and he's pretty sure Magnus would understand). But now that Megatron was busy, now that he didn't need to pretend that everything was fine, Swerve left.
He's not even sure where he went, but it wasn't in the atrium. And it wasn't around Skids and if he can pretend that what he saw didn't happen, maybe he can convince his brain that Skid's wasn't dead. Just maybe the effects of the Metabomb were still in effect and he can just will himself somewhere else, somewhere not here where he'd have to deal with everything. He couldn't do it. Not after everything they'd been through.
When he's thrust out of the Ingress, it's obvious he's been crying. His frame is shaking, and he falls flat on his face in the eerie hallway. Thankfully, the jolt is enough to tug himself out of his panic attack, venting shakily as he pushes himself up and stares at the surroundings.
This wasn't the Necrobot planet. This wasn't even Swearth as far as he could tell.
Not being in the situation makes it easier for Swerve to try and shrug off the panic and the imminent breakdown and focus on what's actually happening right now. Maybe he had triggered something. Maybe that's why he's here and not...]
I need a drink. [He rubs his three fingered servo on his face, rubbing away the dribbles away from his visor, and walking toward the exit. Anyone who sees the ten foot cybertronian emerge from the Ingress room would see that he seems to be taking everything in his stride. The more he questions it, the more the world will break down and drag him back, right? Right. He can roll with the punches. And hey, look, organics are here too. Neato.]
Okay. Bar-quest, take two. You know where a bot can get a drink around here?
[Party] [Distractions is what Swerve needs right now, and distractions are coming in generous handfuls on this place. He continues to get more and more detached from what's happening at home, where he'd come from, and just throws himself into the festivities.
He's seen enough sitcom Halloween specials to know what this is about, and he's actually excited to take part in a Earth Tradition. That's pretty cool.
Swerve takes the party very seriously, even fashioning a Halloween outfit out of sheets that had been in his room, carefully cutting out optic holes and draping it over himself. His visor glows eerily behind the fabric, and he starts going up to unsuspecting party goers, creeping as quietly as he can.
For a ten foot robot, he's not being very quiet. But once he's picked his target, he jumps out, holding his large hands up from under the fabric to scare them.]
Boo! Hah! I totally got you!
[Section T] [A ghost hunting quest? Heck yeah! Swerve isn't about to pass up something like that! They watched Ghostbusters during a movie night a few months ago, and it totally looked like fun.
Of course, when he actually gets to the area they need to look in, it looks a little creepier than he'd anticipated. Way too creepy. So he's going to send his holomatter avatar down the halls instead, so he can call it back in an instant in case things get too intense.
He's also teamed up with you, and he seems to be reluctant to lead the way, sticking close to the walls as his bright blue visor lights the hallway a little in front of them.]
Ghosts aren't real, right? They're just a human horror film thing. Right?
[The BAR]
[Once he found the drinking den this ship had to offer, Swerve can't help himself from practically living in here. He helps out, desperate to actually be behind the counter and serving rather than being a patron. They didn't even have very good engex (and they weren't even diluting it! What a waste of money) and most of the customers were human, but that doesn't mean he can't drown his sorrows in the worlds smallest glass. Tiny glasses for tiny hands.]
Isn't there anywhere on this damn ship where you can get decent high grade? Seriously! I'm gonna have to open 'Swerves on the Moria', aren't I? If you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself.
[That's not a bad idea though. Opening a bar would distract him from. Well, everything going around in his head. Listening to other people's problems on the other side of the counter was easier than thinking about his own.]
No, man. Hear me out, though. We'd just have to build a distillery! Can't be that hard! Oh man, where's Brainstorm when you need him?
Swerve | Transformers IDW | OTA
[He wasn't sure when he'd offlined his optics. It was at some point after they'd crammed themselves back into the Necrobot's hideout, after he and Rewind had talked about using his weapon against the hundreds of Decepticons outside. It was also after he'd seen Nautica draped over Skids, after he glanced at Ratchet and his old friend couldn't quiet meet his optics. It was definitely after he wanted the world to swallow him whole.
He'd been doing so good with burying everything under his quips and cheerful attitude. He'd even got a few good shots in on Magnus' shoulder turrets without having a complete mental breakdown (leaking was something he didn't have any control over, and he's pretty sure Magnus would understand). But now that Megatron was busy, now that he didn't need to pretend that everything was fine, Swerve left.
He's not even sure where he went, but it wasn't in the atrium. And it wasn't around Skids and if he can pretend that what he saw didn't happen, maybe he can convince his brain that Skid's wasn't dead. Just maybe the effects of the Metabomb were still in effect and he can just will himself somewhere else, somewhere not here where he'd have to deal with everything. He couldn't do it. Not after everything they'd been through.
When he's thrust out of the Ingress, it's obvious he's been crying. His frame is shaking, and he falls flat on his face in the eerie hallway. Thankfully, the jolt is enough to tug himself out of his panic attack, venting shakily as he pushes himself up and stares at the surroundings.
This wasn't the Necrobot planet. This wasn't even Swearth as far as he could tell.
Not being in the situation makes it easier for Swerve to try and shrug off the panic and the imminent breakdown and focus on what's actually happening right now. Maybe he had triggered something. Maybe that's why he's here and not...]
I need a drink. [He rubs his three fingered servo on his face, rubbing away the dribbles away from his visor, and walking toward the exit. Anyone who sees the ten foot cybertronian emerge from the Ingress room would see that he seems to be taking everything in his stride. The more he questions it, the more the world will break down and drag him back, right? Right. He can roll with the punches. And hey, look, organics are here too. Neato.]
Okay. Bar-quest, take two. You know where a bot can get a drink around here?
[Party]
[Distractions is what Swerve needs right now, and distractions are coming in generous handfuls on this place. He continues to get more and more detached from what's happening at home, where he'd come from, and just throws himself into the festivities.
He's seen enough sitcom Halloween specials to know what this is about, and he's actually excited to take part in a Earth Tradition. That's pretty cool.
Swerve takes the party very seriously, even fashioning a Halloween outfit out of sheets that had been in his room, carefully cutting out optic holes and draping it over himself. His visor glows eerily behind the fabric, and he starts going up to unsuspecting party goers, creeping as quietly as he can.
For a ten foot robot, he's not being very quiet. But once he's picked his target, he jumps out, holding his large hands up from under the fabric to scare them.]
Boo! Hah! I totally got you!
[Section T]
[A ghost hunting quest? Heck yeah! Swerve isn't about to pass up something like that! They watched Ghostbusters during a movie night a few months ago, and it totally looked like fun.
Of course, when he actually gets to the area they need to look in, it looks a little creepier than he'd anticipated. Way too creepy. So he's going to send his holomatter avatar down the halls instead, so he can call it back in an instant in case things get too intense.
He's also teamed up with you, and he seems to be reluctant to lead the way, sticking close to the walls as his bright blue visor lights the hallway a little in front of them.]
Ghosts aren't real, right? They're just a human horror film thing. Right?
[The BAR]
[Once he found the drinking den this ship had to offer, Swerve can't help himself from practically living in here. He helps out, desperate to actually be behind the counter and serving rather than being a patron. They didn't even have very good engex (and they weren't even diluting it! What a waste of money) and most of the customers were human, but that doesn't mean he can't drown his sorrows in the worlds smallest glass. Tiny glasses for tiny hands.]
Isn't there anywhere on this damn ship where you can get decent high grade? Seriously! I'm gonna have to open 'Swerves on the Moria', aren't I? If you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself.
[That's not a bad idea though. Opening a bar would distract him from. Well, everything going around in his head. Listening to other people's problems on the other side of the counter was easier than thinking about his own.]
No, man. Hear me out, though. We'd just have to build a distillery! Can't be that hard! Oh man, where's Brainstorm when you need him?