Scrapper has set up a testing apparatus for strips of a rubber-like polymer. Basically, he's got out several strips in different sealed containers at different atmospheric and lighting conditions. Numerous sensors are hooked up to these strips of rubber and Scrapper appears to be studying the read-outs.
Long Haul is carrying a tray of... SOMETHING. He sure as slag doesn't know what it is, that's for sure. In fact, he's not even supposed to /be/ here. He walked into medical to top off between running cubes of energon from the outlying refineries to Trypticon (a task made all the more difficult by the lack of non-military personnel about) and someone just handed him a tray and said, "Here. Scrapper needs this." It figures! See Long Haul, make him carry something! /That's/ the way it /always/ is! So here he is, tray full of unrecognizable apparatus, samples, or what-who... and a certain metal energon mug with a Decepticon symbol and 'Long Haul' scrawled in crude Cybertronian script, this last being there because he had to put his mug on the tray to carry everything.
Scrapper takes a while to realise Long Haul's there. He's rather busy fiddling with the testing appartatus and has lost track of the rest of the world. Scrapper turns, winces at the fact that Long Haul's still yellow, grabs Long Haul's mug from the tray, and proceeds to wire it to one of the clear 'boxes' around one of the samples.
"HEY!" Long Haul protests as Scrapper takes his drink. He slams his tray down noisily in a blank area of the counter. "That's my drink, y'know! Just 'cos you doan' like my new paint job is no need to go an' steal my mug!"
Scrapper stares down at the mug he had just wired to the testing appartus, as if wondering how it got there. He starts to unwire the mug, ostensibly to give it back to Long Haul, but he pauses half way through. Scrapper narrows his optics band, looks back over his shoulder at Long Haul, and protests, "It was on the tray of supplies."
"'Cos that was the only way I could carry it all!" argues Long Haul, lowering his head a little in an attempt to present a more combative expression (since he can't actually, you know adjust his facial non-features or anything). Leaking engineers! "That doan' make it a supply! Not onna yers, anyway." With that the transporter makes a grab for the mug, intending to yank it away if Scrapper won't relinquish it willingly.
Scrapper sighs and finishes unwiring the mug. It would mess up all his calculations, anyway. He selects a length of wiring from the tray, toys with it, and comments absently, "Given that you're the team hauler, you're not awfully creative in figuring out how to haul things, are you? You could have put the mug in your cabin or something. It would have been much less confusing there."
"It wasn't confusin', anyway." Long Haul points to the mug to show Scrapper. "It's a mug of energon with my slagging name on it! 'Sides, I wasn't built with cupholders, not human sized and 'specially not our sized. It'd end up spilling all over my cab." Theoretical application, meet real world. Leaking engineers. The transporter takes a sip of his drink now that its ownership has been unquestionably established.
Scrapper isn't a leaking engineer. That would be unsanitary, and Hook would whine endlessly. He sets down the length of wiring he was playing with on a lab table and gets out a set of clamps. Clearly more insterested in his shiny new supplies, Scrapper continues, "It's a vaguely cyclindrical object with some prototype-scratch on it. And, uh, maybe you could have seat-belted it or something."
Just like an engineer to take a statement literally and completely miss the actual meaning.
"Hey! My hand writing isn't /that/ bad!" the Transporter protests. "An' seat belts aren't made to hold stuff shaped like this... they're made to hold *ugh* humans in place. It don't fit in right, an' it's a little large for the space, anyway."
Scrapper is not to be thwarted, even if he is busy getting that wire ready to connect to a sensor on one end and a pin strip on the other. "The top of your cabin is flat. You could have put it on the roof. And I suppose it's passable. I've seen worse, really." If Decepticon doctors are anything like human doctors (and they're really not, what with tending to enjoy screams), Scrapper probably sees lots of downright horrible handwriting.
"Well, /yeah/, I could have," allows Long Haul as he turns so as to lean against the counter itself, "but it's a lot easier to balance if I got it on the tray. Y'gotta be real careful how you walk when y'got something balanced up there, s'pecially something that's gonna end up spilling." The transporter sounds like he may be speaking from previous experience now.
Scrapper just gives Long Haul a bit of an odd look. And resists the urge to start calculating what coefficient of friction that mug would need to stay on Long Haul's roof even at a vertical angle. The energon would just fall out then, which would just make a mess. Unless they also messed with the coefficient of friction of energon, but that's Mixmaster's job. Changing the subject, as he can't argue with someone who may have actually tried the dumb things he's been suggesting, Scrapper switches the topic, "You've been holding up okay in this desert, paint aside?"
And Scrapper never even suggested magnets! For shame! "Sand's hard to drive through," the supply officer complains. It is, at least, not one of his usual complaints. Complain about moving, complain about lifting, complain about paperwork, complain about brothers, return to A. The desert's provided Long Haul with entirely NEW things to complain about! Then he shrugs as he takes a sip. "Okay, I guess," he says, FINALLY answering the actual question.
But is Long Haul comprised of materials to which magnets stick? That might actually require testing, and given Scrapper's current frame of mind, that'd involve sticking Long Haul in a clear, air-tight box and wiring him to some sensors, which would give Long Haul even more about which to complain. So be happy Scrapper didn't suggest magnets. "So... no problems with your seals?"
Well, a Mixmaster magnet stuck to him at some point or another...
The Constructicon tilts his head to regard Scrapper with a bit of confusion. "Huh? Seals?" Oh, okay. He's not talking about seal/ants/. That's okay, than. Long Haul shakes his head. "Not that I noticed, Scrapper. Why? That been a problem?"
"Oh, some. A number of classes of seals get dried out and distressed in desert conditions and start cracking. Been looking into that." Scrapper gestures to his experimental apparatus. Ah, yes, subjecting strips of seals to various torture tests. That's the problem with making things for Cybertronian conditions.
But the Constructicons were built on Earth! Erm, rebuilt on Earth! Something like that.
Long Haul looks in the direction that Scrapper's gesturing, but it's not as though what he sees really means much to him. "Erm, well... okay," is the best answer he can muster. The supply officer takes a good long sip of his drink as though that will help him cover his ignorance.
Ah, but were they built with Earthen supplies? Moreover, do Earthen seals acually hold up any better against Earthen weather than Cybertronian ones? Perhaps Scrapper's tests will shed some light on these pressing questions. Scrapper beams. "Once it's all set up, it'll be self-monitoring, and it'll page me if anything notable happens." Ah, poor, deluded Scrapper.
Long Haul continues his long sip, because that delays him actually having to, you know, say anything. The supply officer then looks back at the... stuff, then at Scrapper. Of course, for someone like him, there's not a whole lot concerning seal tests that could possibly account as notable anyway, so he just nods slowly to humor his brother and goes back to drinking.
Scrapper settles in to setting up the rest of his experimental appartatus in earnest now, given that Long Haul brought the rest of the parts. While his brother doesn't seem awed by the experiment, Scrapper didn't expect that, so he's not disappointed. Lowered expectations are a good thing.
Long Haul decides to stay in the lab to finish his break. The logic here is, in the lab the only person to tell him to carry things is Scrapper, while out there in medical there were /lots/ of different people to tell him to carry things. Sometimes it's a wonder that he actually does instead of, y'know, punching the morons who just hand him stuff and tell him to carry it. Habit, probably. It's certainly not fear of the consequences of infighting, because he generally doesn't think much about those consequences until they're upon him anyway. The transporter puts down his mug and turns around, absently reaching out to grab whatever portion of Scrapper's experiment happens to be nearest, and coolest looking. Shiny! Or not.
It's probably one of the sensors. Clear plastic, wires, logging equipment, and snipped-up strips of seals are all underwhelming in the extreme. And the sensors happen to be the less-expendable parts of this experiment, too. So Scrapper snaps his head around and exclaims, "Hey! Do you have any idea what kind of important component you're messing around with there?"
Long Haul snaps his hand away from the whatchahoosit and stands up straight and tries to look innocent. Of course, he has no face, so whether he succeeds of not is open to interpretation. Okay. Scrapper asked a question. He doesn't want to look stupid, but... well, wait a minute! It's just a yes or no question, so he's got a 50-50 chance of getting the answer right! Hah! This is easy. "Uhm, yes?" he replies, trying to study Scrapper's non-face to see if he got it right.
Oh no! Another question! No one told him he was taking a full fledged quiz! The quartermaster wracks his processors for the right answer, picking up his mug and drinking some of the energon in an attempt to buy him more time. Finally he settles on an old standard that has served him so well in the past. "Uhm... Science?"
Scrapper sighs. Yeah, science. Scrapper snatches away the sensor and turns back to his work. He could explain what it does in more detail, but what's the point?