Oracle walks into the Blaster.
Garrison is sitting near Tourniquet, obviously a bit distressed. He's not even drinking!
Tourniquet is sitting talking with Garrison and Slipshod.
Slipshod is mulling over his drink, pondering the imponderable.
Tourniquet is apparently staring into space, optics blank.
Oracle, smiling to herself, walks over to the group talking with each other.
Slipshod looks up and grins, "Oracle! How are ya?"
Oracle smiles back to Slipshod. "I'm doing fine. How are you?"
Garrison looks over, and brightens a bit, "Oracle... long time no see..." he's fairly quiet for him, as well.
Slipshod hees to himself, "Made a tidy sum at the pool tables."
You say, "That's good to hear."
Garrison's face drops a bit... he just looks at Oracle...
Oracle turns to Garrison. "Yeah, long time. Are you okay?" Looks concerned.
Garrison errrs, "Just dwelling on the past."
Tourniquet blinks and looks around. "Hey Oracle"
Slipshod kicks Garrison under the table, "Buck up! You're not dead yet and not likely to be with two medics around."
Garrison raises a brow, "Doesn't stop me from not feeling bad about it, doc."
Oracle looks determined to get an answer. "What's wrong?"
Garrison hehs, "I just remembered something, that's all."
Oracle takes a seat next to Garrison. "It's obvious something's troubling you. Will you enlighten me?"
Garrison ummms, "Well. I just reminded myself of something... I'm not too proud of."
Oracle looks stern. "I can't be of any help if you don't elaborate on that point."
Garrison nods, "Sit down, then..."
Garrison sighs, "Well.... I just... let some people die in the past... they wouldn't have died, if I'd not run from what scared me."
Tourniquet says, "...he's beatin' himself up 'bout it..."
Oracle nods sagely. "I see. It's only natural to run from what frightens us. Perhaps it's not the best of options available, but it's hardly something to hang one's head about. What was it you ran from?"
Garrison sighs, "Seekers. Three of them."
You say, "And, even if you /had/ stayed, would there have been any chance that you could save those that died, let alone left with your own life?"
Garrison nods, "Upon ananlysis, yes. I think so."
You say, "Then what scared you?"
Garrison sighs, "They did. It was only afterwards, that I realized it was my fault."
You say, "I wouldn't beat yourself so much about this. No one can come out of the chaos of war without having regrets. It is only a relief that their deaths didn't come about by any deliberately malicious action on your part."
Garrison looks to Oracle, "I can't help it, though..."
Tourniquet is sitting at the bar, listening to the others talk.
Slipshod lounges and mulls over his beverage while listening with half an auditory sensor.
Oracle puts a sympathetic hand on Garrison's arm. "That is true. You would be less of a mech if you didn't regret your actions. But the time for griving shoulding be so prolonged. You are still a valuable citizen of Cybertron. We all make mistakes, and your willingness to atone is half the battle of feeling better about yourself."
Ghost walks casually into the public tavern and heads towards the bar, weaving around the random civilian in her way. Taking a seat, she waves a hand at the bartender and leansover a bit to murmur something to her. After a few moments, the two seperate and Shotglass brings the newcomer a tall glass.
Garrison Raises a brow, "What's the other half?"
Tourniquet looks over at the newcomer and nods. "..hey.,'
Oracle nods politely and briefly to the newcomer, then turns back to Garrison.
You say, "That's a little harder. I think the other half is something everyone has to find for themselves. I know that the slightest error on my part makes me feel guilty for a long time, even if no one comes to grief because of it. But eventually I realize that I can't fix the past, I can only try better for the future. You have to find the thing that lets you trust yourself and your worth again."
Garrison nods, "Oracle. Can I ask you a question?"
Ghost glances over her shoulder and raises a hand in a polite wave at Tourniquet, then goes back to her drink.
Oracle shrugs. "Certainly. I'm almost always willing to answer people's questions. I belive in being open and sharing knowledge."
Tourniquet orders another f-5 and begins drinking slowly.
Garrison nods, and says, a bit jokingly, "Why didn't you go into the pyshcology business?"
You say, "Because I kept doing what I was created to do. I just changed the focus of my attempts. Though it would be an interesting profession. One that is sorely needed in this time of chaos."
Garrison nods, "Actually, yeah." he hmmmms, "You didn't get my pitiful attempt at humor, did you?"
Oracle laughs. "I understood that. But I /do/ have a tendancy to take things more seriously than most...though I have an occasional fit of sillyness. Slipshod should know something about that."
Garrison smirks, "I'm sorry I missed those, then." he's in better spirits, now.
Ghost waits for a few more minutes as the bartender brings over another glass, held carefully in tongs and a thrid one, empty.
Oracle smiles. "They are rare, but when my humor comes to the surface, it can be quite entertaining."
Tourniquet glances over at Ghost's drinks, optics wide.
Garrison grins, "I'm sure. I laugh, occasionally, too, as hard as it is too believe. Sometimes my jokes are even funny..."
Ghost peers at the three glasses, gives Shotglass a one fingered salute, touching the front of her forehead, then she starts to pour the two glasses into the third one. Shotglass steps back, a worreid scowl on her face.
You say, "It shouldn't be too hard to believe, and if it is, I'm certain you have enough friends to try and fix that."
Garrison raises a brow, "What makes you think -I'm- a popular mech?"
Tourniquet watches Ghost out of the corner of her optic, waiting to see what happens.
Ghost continues to slowly pour the two together.. As soon as the two liquids come into contact with one another in the glass, sparks begin to shoot upwards out of it, showering the bar with vivid violet and bright white trails.
Oracle waves her hand dismissively. "Popularity has nothing to do with it. A few real friends are better than several mechs and femmes following you around. And I have a intuitive feeling that you have a couple of the former."
Oracle is distracted by the display of purple and white for a moment.
Tourniquet says, "...whoooaaaaa...."
Garrison blinks at Ghost, "Well..." he looks back to Oracle, "A few people can put up with me..."
Ghost finishes pouring the two togehter and sits back, watching the sparks fly and the smoke slowly trail out of the top of the glass and sink to the bartop.
You say, "You might be surprised at how many people will listen if you ask in one of the many right ways."
Oracle excuses herself and walks towards the interesting dispaly, being careful to keep a safish distance from it.
Ghost waits until the sparks begin to subside, then picks the glass up, readying it to drink. Shotglass just throws her hands in the air and stalks off, "Some mechs jus nevah learn." Ghost shakes her ehad and takes her facemask off, tkaing a long, slow sip of the now only smoking drink.
Oracle quirks an optic ridge.
Tourniquet is now nearly openly gawking at Ghost, waiting to see just what this concoction's going to do to her.
Garrison looks over, as well...
Oracle watches with curiosity.
Ghost sets the glass down carefully, and rests her hands on the bartop, closing her optics and just sitting there quietly for a few moments. One brow arches upwards and she turns to peer around her, "Can Ah help you?'
Tourniquet blinks her visor. "..uhm...no ma'am...jus'...uhm...what *is* that y'drinking?"
Oracle doesn't seem at all abashed that she was 'staring'. "Well, that was just one of the more interesting drinks we've seen here."
Ghost pokes a fingerclaw at the glass, occasionally setting a spark off every once in a while, "When worlds collide. Its a.. specialty of the house."
Tourniquet says, "Oh...okay..."
Garrison raises a brow, "And, is it corrosive?"
Ghost cocks he rhead to one side, "If mixed incorrectly, yes."
Slipshod pulls out a magnetic bottle, "Naw, this is. Grog is a secret mixure of which contains the following: Kerosene, Glycol acid, Artificial sweeteners, Sulfuric acid, Rum, Acetone, Red dye #2, Scumm, Axle grease, Battery acid andor pepperoni."
Garrison hmmms, "How intoxicating is it?"
Ghost hmms thoughtfully, "ACtually, its considered deadly in large doses.. But it is on the rather intoxicating list."
Garrison sighs, "I'll refrain from trying it, then..."
Tourniquet blinks. '...risky, ain't it?"
Ghost's lips curve into a faint smile, "I think you're only at risk if you drink a glass large enough for Omega to down."
Tourniquet says, "Oh...okay...'ll keep that in mind..."
Oracle goes back to where she was sitting, apparently no longer curious about the drink.
Ghost turns and goes back to drinking quietly.
Garrison looks up at Oracle.
Garrison sighs, "Oracle. Can I get you something to drink?"
You say, "Yes, thank you."
Garrison nods, "White enerwine, or red?"
You say, "It doesn't matter to me. I don't drink much anyway. Whatever you get will be fine."
Garrison laughs, "You don't have a preferred taste?"
Oracle smiles. "I haven't tasted enough to /have/ a preferred taste."
Garrison ahs, and gets ORacle a red enerwine, "More to my taste. It's sweeter."
Oracle takes the red enerwine and busies herself with sipping it.
Garrison smirks, "Do you like it?"
Oracle smiles. "It's pretty good."
Garrison nods, "Glad to hear it." he orders one for himself, as well. "So, what've you been up to?"
Oracle seems a little distracted and ponderous. "Oh, I've been doing research."
Garrison ahs, "I see... am I keeping you from your thoughts?"
You say, "Not exactly. You just gave me something to think about via that joke you made a while back."
Garrison ahs, "Thinking about becoming one?"
You say, "Perhaps. Sometimes I get the feeling that I'm really not helping my fellow Cybertronians very much. Perhaps I should consider doing something for my people."
Ghost sips her drink, remaining very quiet.
Garrison hmmms, "Well, historians are in short order."
Tourniquet blinkblinks. '...whoa...dozed off're somethin..."
Tourniquet transmits a radio message.
Ghost heaves a soft sigh and rummages in a pocket, pulling out a small holo and peeringa t it.
You say, "Yes, there isn't much work for my profession, or more appropriately, my passion."
Tourniquet receives a radio message.
Tourniquet transmits a radio message.
Garrison nods, "I know... I'm sorry about that."
Tourniquet tosses a few credits on the bar and walks out. "See y'all later."
*Tourniquet leaves*
You say, "Nothing to be sorry about. But perhaps I will be able to do some good with another profession."
Ghost receives a radio message.
Ghost hiccups softly.
Ghost transmits a radio message.
Garrison nods, "Or, maybe do both?"
Ghost receives a radio message.
Ghost heaves a soft sigh and looks at her drink rather fondly, "Another time.."
Oracle leans back in her seat. "Oh, I'd always keep up with my history, but I have a feeling that I would benifit more people by taking up their problems and helping them to sort through them. Besides, it might be easier to make a living, and my assets are rather low right now."
Ghost transmits a radio message.
Ghost receives a radio message.
Ghost stands up slowly, flips Shotglass a small marker coin, and heads out, drink mostly unfinished.
Oracle nods politely to Ghost as she exits.
*Ghost leaves*
Garrison nods, "Well... you made me feel better." he grins...
You say, "You're welcome. If only I could do that for more people. Many are trapped by this war by their factions or by their sense of honor or justice. I see lots of mechs and femmes uncertain about themselves. Lots are just plain miserable."
Garrison nods, "A lot of us are, unfortuantely. I am, most of the time... I'll not bother you, though."
Oracle smiles. "It's no bother at all. It makes me feel useful."
Slipshod looks up from reading a datapad, "I'm not miserable, just looking for places in Crystal City to build a dayspa."
Garrison shrugs, "Ah... that's good. You'll be ahppy to hear that I feel pretty good, right now." he grins at Slipshod, "Sounds cool, doc."
You say, "I didn't say /everyone/ was miserable."
Slipshod smirks, "I'm lots of people to myself."
Garrison laughs at Slipshod.
Oracle ponders that for a moment. "True."
Garrison nods, "So, life's been good to you, since we last spoke?"
You say, "It's been okay. There isn't much out there that impresses me, but there aren't many people who make me miserable either."
Garrison nods, "Makes sense..." he sighs, and leans back.
You say, "It's the danger of being unaffiliated with either side."
Garrison grins, "What, being bored?"
Oracle thinks. "I don't know if bored is the right word. There just isn't that feeling of belonging. Or the happiness that comes from serving your people. I think I've been lacking this."
Garrison nods, "I feel that way, most of the time..."
You say, "Why do you think that is?"
Garrison hmmms, "Because. Regardless of my position, Arbiter could replace me, and do a better job, at any time. He's not prone to emotional outbursts... and he's smarter than I am."
Oracle frowns slightly at the name "Arbiter" but then resumes a neutral expression. "Sometimes emotional is good."
Garrison nods, "Sometimes... I like my emotions..." he peers at her, "Problem with Arby?"
You say, "Well, I haven't met him, so my prejudice is uncalled for."
Garrison hmmms, "You seemed unhappy at my mention of the name?"
You say, "Mentioning the reason for my frown might not be tactful at this point in time."
Garrison ahs, "Well. Tact is lost on me. Go for it."
Oracle hesitates. "Well, he made a friend of mine very miserable. One can't really have a good opinion of someone who causes misery to a friend."
Garrison nods, "I... see... cn I ask you another question, more personal?"
You say, "Sure. If it's too personal, I won't answer."
Garrison nods, "Do you... consider me a friend?"
Oracle doesn't hesitate for a moment. "Yes, I do."
Garrison blinks, "Wow. I feel special."
You say, "Why?"
Garrison shrugs... "Well... I just always respected you, a lot. Seemed like I wasn't even in your class."
Oracle seems stunned for a moment, then quirks an amazed optic ridge. "Same class?"
Garrison shrugs, "Basically. I just thought you were too good to be associated with me."
Oracle laughs lightly. "I don't think I'm too good to associate with anyone. I give everyone a chance until they give me a reason not to. You haven't even come close to losing your chance."
Garrison grins, "I'm glad to hear that, Oracle..." he seems a bit sheepish.
Oracle shrugs.
You say, "But there's a price to pay when you trust many people. Sometimes they don't trust you back. I can never really earn the trust of the Autobots or Decepticons as a whole."
Garrison smirks, "Neither can I..."
Oracle laughs softly. "I can see why the Decepticons wouldn't trust you, but why the distrust by your own faction?"
Garrison shrugs, "Cause I'm a loser? I dunno."
Oracle quirks an optic ridge. "Do you /really/ believe that of yourself?"
Garrison nods, "Actually, yeah."
Oracle shakes her head. "That's not good. You do know that, don't you?"
Garrison hmmms, "I know... but, it's true... I just accepted it."
Oracle looks almost angry, but her anger isn't directed at Garrison. "Has someone told you that you were a loser?"
Garrison nods, "A few people..."
Oracle's optics narrow and her fist clenches. "Who? I might have to have a talk with them. Especially if they're members of your own faction."
Garrison shakes his head, "I'm not gonna give out names, sister..."
Oracle fixes Garrison with a stern glance. "It's not right that people in your own faction talk to you like that. I'll just fight words with words...it's the only way I can fight."
Garrison sighs, "Don't bother, Ora. It's over with. Thanks for caring, though."
He smiles, warmly.
Oracle smiles as she stands up to leave. "Well, if you ever want me to give someone the sharp side of my tongue, just ask and I'll be happy to oblige."
Garrison raises a brow, "Well... fare you well, Ora." he stands, and extends a hand to her.
Oracle shakes his hand and walks out the door. "Farewell, and I'll see you later with hopes you're feeling better."