Blue Femme

You see the femmebot and see she is a marvel to behold. Her mostly blue body gleams brightly under the lights of the room. You wish you could walk over to her or at least wave in hopes she will see you. If you want to talk to her, you had better adress her as she isn't really bright nor wants to talk to too many bots. You can also offer to buy her a drink, and if you feel lucky ask her for a dance. Whatever you do, don't say 'prostibot' around her. (Pose all things and she may react to you, if she wants to.)

Jazz smirks at Scattershot as he 'bellies up' to the bar. "So what've you got to start us off with, 'Shot?"

Payloader (Scrapper) wanders in payloader mode. It's nominally faster than his robot mode, although he's as slow as a slow thing in either mode. He pauses once inside and transforms. Now this is what he was looking for, not aromatic pots of energon-gelatin. This is real celebration stuff, and he had better get it while he can. The next round of gladiatorial looks brutal.

The payloader unfolds into robotic form. His lower legs rotate away, revealing his upper legs. His arms come out from his side. His shovel flips onto his back. Finally, his head emerges from his torso, completing the transformation.

Scattershot is sitting at the bar, still ordering up shots for whoever decides to join, and racking up a healthy bar tab in the process. He turns to Jazz, a shot in either hand; one for you, one for me. "Slow-Glo Energon," he states, holding out the drink. Think of a TF's equivelent for 80 proof rum. "All right, any of you pansies want in, grab your shots now!" he yells over the crowd, before throwing back his head and downing the shot.

Foxfire peeks in, then slinks instead as stealthily as a silver fox can. Which hopefully means no one will see him, especially not, say, Jazz, who might have to perform another "rescue".

Firestar makes her way over at the bellow of Scattershot, "Alright then, lemme show you how we used ta do it on Cybertron." she grabs a barstool, "Howdy boys..." she adds belatedly as she scoops up a shot for herself.

Hardshell arrives from the Dim Alleyway to the north.

Hardshell has arrived.

Jazz laughs, "Bottoms up." he says, before tossing the shot. Easy stuff. And by the end of the evening, he's not going to be in any condition to rescue Foxfire. Seriously. This is a contest that he can win.

M'al

A cyborg looking creature about 18' tall. He has on a brown shirt with red stripes down the side of the arms to his grey robotic hands. Around his neck to his knees is a apron that says, "Kiss tha Kook!" You hardly see his blue striped pants that go down to his booted red feet. He looks at you with his ice blue optic and a eye. He grins and hands you a *menu* or you can simply just order something by saying "One <menu item>, please". He doesn't serve to "pose"ers.

Fleet is drinking with Autobots! Why? Because the Autobots are buying, and Fleet is never above taking advantage of a foe's generosity. He inclines his head in greeting towards the newly arriving femme, his performance smile getting a touch wider, and then he raises his glass briefly in a sort of mock-salute to his foes. Then he raises the glass to his lips and downs it quickly, smile fading but not fleeing.

Firestar glances over her shoulder for a moment before realizing the fun has already begun. Tipping her head back she takes the first shot with ease, grinning a little bit as she sets the empty glass on the bartop and glances at the two mechs, then at the crowd, "That was some fine shootin' back there Scatts, though I'm surprised at your second round showing."

Foxfire comes to a stop, and seems to bristle as he takes note of a *very* familar Seeker. Tail raised in aggression, the cassette lowers his ears, glaring at Fleet and baring his teeth, a growl emitting from his vocalizer. Nope, he is NOT happy to see Fleet.

Ranger reaches out a hand and snags himself a drink from the bar, before downing it in a quick gulp. He shudders momentarily as the energon hits. "One," he counts, adding, "Nice, too."

Fleet returns his empty glass to the bar and looks down at Foxfire. "Ah. Well, hello, Foxfire," he says in exceedingly polite greeting. Certainly, the grudge between the two is one sided. Fleet doesn't carry grudges. They weigh you down when you're trying to run for your life.

Scrapper paces over to Fleet, because there's a large number of Autobots here, and while those who bear the purple scowl are just as unsafe to be around as Autobots in their own way, Scrapper can at least put the fear of MSE into Fleet and except results for certain values of 'results'. He inquires of Fleet, pointing at Scattershot, tone a bit incredulous, "He's buying?"

Scattershot waits with contained anger before the shots start disappearing off the counter. "I don't care how I get there, as long I've got a good finish." Just like a shot, you enjoy that burning sensation when it's deep in your throat for a nice finish. "Now, you sure you can keep up with us little femme?" He turns back to the bar, ordering some new drinks.

"Hello, FLEET," the fox returns with a tone full of loathing. Foxfire keeps his gaze on the pastel Seeker even while he wanders over to a table and hops into a chair.

Firestar glances at Scattershot, "I'm gonna drink you under the bar Scatts, just you watch." she reaches for a fresh shot, "Just you keep 'em coming and we'll see who's seein' primus when the night is over." she grins a little, waiting for others to grab up some shots as well.

"Oh yes," Fleet replies to Scrapper. "Having proven himself as a marksman, now he wishes to prove himself on another battlefield." The seeker takes up his replacement drink. "Ah! It knows my name!" he says in delighted response to Foxfire's 'greeting,' grin getting just a little wider and a little less friendly.

Jazz is a happy kind, "Hey 'Star." He says amiably, reaching for another shot, "The more the merrier." Grin. Shoot. "We'll see if either of ya can keep up."

Hardshell enters the place a few minutes after the others. Too bad Bonecrusher isn't here. The Aquacon doesn't want to get drunk but he would really enjoy forcing the Constructicon to buy him a drink. He looks around the place..full of autobots. "Great" he thinks. He heads over a corner and takes a seat. He doesn't order anything for now, he just watches...perhaps he will hear or see something interesting.

Foxfire rolls his optics. "Well, considering how you stole my leg TWICE, of *course* I know your name." He squares his shoulders and turns his back on Fleet, muttering, "Fragger."

Ranger snakes his arm around the stronger mechs to snag another shot off the bar. He glances down at Foxfire with a weary sigh before knocking this drink back. "Y'know," he says, addressing no-one in particular, "Seems to me that if we could just have one gigantic piss-up instead of a war, things'd be a lot simpler." He reflects upon this for a moment, before finishing, "And a lot more fun, too."

Scattershot impatiently raps his fingers on the counter before another round of shots are up. They're black.. yet they're glowing. "They call this stuff Transformer Killer." Seconds later it's down Shot's throat. His head snaps a little bit, as this stuff has some more bite. Think 99 proof 99 Bananas.

Round Two!

Scrapper looks at Fleet speculatively. He never did get that leg out of the Seeker. Granted, he had to run out in the middle of a surgery, which kind of invalidates the deal, but it sounds like Fleet snagged another one off that Foxbot. Scrapper inquires, less than subtlety, "Been thinking about any major surgery lately?" He adds," Quite generous of Scattershot, then." he waits on drinking for a little, wanting to make sure that Fleet has some and doesn't die of a Decepticon-specific poison or something daft like that. Yeah, there's a truce, but... it never hurts to be careful.

Firestar eyes the shot dubiously, "You're really goin' all out big man." she reaches out to take one of the nasty looking shots and throws it down like a champ, coughing a little bit, "Yeah, okay, that's some quality stuff right there." her optics would water if they could, but she's hanging in like a trooper, "Whatcha got next?"

Autobots and Decepticons. And then there's always the 'Omegarita', which is designed specifically for Omega Supreme. Ages ago.... now that's some potent stuff.

And again, Jazz reaches for the shot. "Nice. he says, looking at it for a moment, then shoots it, covering the the kick with a grin, and a little stool dance. You know those. Bouncing around to some unheard beat. "Smoooth..."

"You take it so personally, Foxfire!" Fleet chuckles. "It is war, after all, and you obviously got it replaced." He turns his head towards Scrapper and shrugs. "I just got a fairly significant upgrade. I think I'll wait awhile before I try for anything else." With that he downs his drink. The thing about doing shots is you don't actually have to stop and taste any of the drinks if you don't want to... but they will slam you in a moment. Usually when you try to stand. Which is why Fleet remains seating, trying to hold onto his sense for as long as he can.

Ranger overhears Scrapper as he reaches for a shot of 'Transformer killer,' weaseling his way between two mechs at the bar as he does so. "Now there's an offer you can't refuse," he mutters to himself, downing the shot. He pauses for a moment, drawing in a long breath to allow his cooling systems to compensate before commenting. "Quality stuff indeed," he pauses, stifling some response before continuing, "smooth mind."

Foxfire is obviously having visions of ripping Fleet's head off right now...too bad it's a truce. Oh well. With a sigh, the cassette orders himself a drink, something a little strong. Uh-oh.

Hardshell has disconnected.

Firestar's optics start to wander a little bit, having underestimated the Transformer Killer, "Whooo..." she states calmly, "Stuff sticks around doesn't it... I can feel my gears turning..."

Scrapper watches Fleet closely, looking a little disappointed that Fleet doesn't want major surgery. However, Fleet is not writing on the floor in pain complaining about the many-legged winged things with spots, so whatever he's drinking must be reasonably safe for foolish values of safe. He looks over at Ranger carefully. At that Air Race, he didn't seem too put out by the fact that Scrapper stole a piece of him at a battle prior. Still, he'll bear observation, in case he tries anything funny.

Scattershot notices Foxfire out of the corner of his optic, and he's ordering a drink! "Foxfire!" he yells obnoxiously, "Drink some of what REAL Autobots drink!" And Decepticons too, as Fleet isn't having any problem grabbing free shots off the counter. He orders up another round of shots. Considering he's a warrior in a neverending war, what is there to spend money on other than shots when there's a truce called? Seriously! He grins at Jazz, who seems to be keeping his cool, then Firestar, who already seems to have a buzz started. And Ranger's holding his own over there too. "Uh.. they don't even have a name for this one." Even Scattershot eyes the drinks warily; they're pulsating in different colors, between green, red, and blue. Think of your favorite 100 proof drink! Round three is up!

Fleet also lifts up the drink and takes a moment to sniff it. Well. A mild, polite smile remains on his face as he leans back against the counter. The pastel wonder decides he's going to wait until the Autobots have downed their drinks until he drinks his.

Ranger is quite an easy-going mech, losing the odd bit of himself is par-for-the-course in this senseless, interminable war. "No name?" He queries as he reaches out for it, "How'd you know what to order?" He watches his drink for a minute. "So... are we supposed to watch it? or what?" Without waiting for a reply, he lifts the liquid to his lips and knocks it back, leaving an iridescent stain on his lips. Of course he's holding his own, he turns into a /shuttle/ for cryin' out loud.

Foxfire grunts, waving a paw at Scattershot without looking up. "I'll pass," he replies with a hint of annoyance. "It's not my style." That said, he downs his own drink...or rather, he laps it up, using his forepaws to hold it in place. And here's where the poor little guy gets tipsy.

"Hey! It's the Alterion traffic light--" Jazz grins, taking the shot. "Used to have these in the Rusty Sprocket." Jazz kicks back, leaning against the bar to down the multicolored drink. He does pause a moment, waiting until it turns blue before shooting it.

Firestar grins, reaching out eagerly for the next round, "Love it! Lets get the train moving..." she does have a little buzz going, but for all anyone knows she gets started quickly and then hangs in solid... we'll find out soon enough. She drops another one back and grins, "Keep 'em comin' Scatts. I can tell this'll be a -good- night all around."

Fleet decides this could get dangerous (for him) if he lets himself go much farther. After observing Jazz he, too, waits for the drink to turn blue and then downs it. Then he stands, saying, "All right, what's ne-" before stumbling back a little, landing on his stool before giving the others a sheepish grin. He'll be out next round, he decides. That way he can watch the Autobots without getting any drunker himself.

Scrapper watches Fleet stumble and notes, "Maybe a better filtration system? Really more Mixmaster's area, but it looks like you could use some help purging out those energon-based toxins out of your system before they built up." Scrapper's suggesting unneeded upgrades to Fleet, and his brothers aren't even here.

Firestar grins a cockeyed grin at Scrapper, "Them toxin's is half the point of this little exercise greeny, get in on the action how about..." she turns back to Jazz and Scattershot, "So I shoulda waited until it turned blue, huh? Guess I'm impatient..."

Scattershot turns toward Ranger with a bit of a glare; the liquor hasn't hit him that hard yet. "I ask for cheap drinks that'll knock me on my ass, they deliver." Which he does again, turning to the bartender and flicking his wrist for whatever he has in store next. Then he remembers Foxfire. "Foxfire!" he yells, again obnoxiously. "It's free for you, and it'll only piss me off if these go to waste!" How's that for an ultimatum; drink and avoid Scattershot's ire. He looks over the other 'Bots before realizing he hasn't taken his shot yet. Not allowing anyone the opportunity to criticize him for holding back on shots, he takes up two and quickly downs them, first a red and then a green. Round four shows up as Scattershot turns his head to the bar so that no one notices his face wrinkle up after those last couple hit whatever the Transformer equivelent of a stomach is. At the name of the drink, the Technobot narrows his optics angrily. "Galvcannon." he intones, as the orange concoctions hit the counter. They're upping the ante here: 110 proof.

Firestar eyes the concoction uncertainly as she picks up the shot, "Galvcannon huh..." she glances at Scattershot for a moment before shrugging, "Bottoms up!" bam, down goes the orange stuff, and the femme almost chokes before she manages to splutter, "Wow..." she steadies herself on the bar while glancing around for a moment, "Aptly named..."

Ranger blinks at the others gathered. "Blue? Is there some signifca- uh, significance to that? Chemically it's gonna be the same no matter the colour, yeah?" He frowns, aware of his verbal stumble and taking pains to correct it. He grins as he reaches out for the new round, taking two up, the first of which he downs, the second of which he places on the floor near Foxfire. "Hh- Here, better have at least one," he suggests, "Don' wanna annoy him, huh?"

Jazz toys with the glass, spinning it around, "Nah. I just like blue better." he grins at Firestar, reaching for the orange. "Don't think it'd be such a good idea t' get Foxy in-- he ain't got no tolerance." Of course Jazz has seen this before. "I'll drink his share." And there go two more drinks neatly down the hatch. For some reason, the Meister's grin just gets a little wider.

Firestar's face changes a little as the successive shots of alcohol hit her one after another, "Woog." is all she manages to say as she sits back on her stool, nearly tumbling to the floor. After a few moments she manages to right herself and grins a little sheepishly.

Fleet shakes his head, the action a bit unbalanced, as Scrapper continues to suggest upgrades. "Naw... s'just a seeker, affer all. S'not important enough t'spend alla those resources on so soon." He takes up the drink and then laughs heartily at the name. "'Ey. This'll be my first one!" He leans his head back to down the drink, and does so, but his backwards lean is a little too far, and the seeker completely unbalances, falling off the back of his stool and onto his stool. Ouch. That'll hurt later.

Fleet. Out.

Ranger says, "Hey," Ranger protests, "If you're gonna take two, we' not going to be able to juge- judge, a winner whn it comes to it!" He reaches for another of these 'Galvcannons' one for each time he's been on the nasty end of the real thing, I guess. "Two each thsss- this round!""

"You already piss ME off," Foxfire grumbles, not really caring who hears. Ears twitching, he glances at Jazz, then says, "What're you talkin' 'bout, J? I got good...tol--toler--...uh, whatever y'said." The effects are already starting to show. Oh slag.

Firestar stares at Ranger, "TWO of those? Right, you're on." she reaches for another Galvcannon, intending to keep right up with Jazz, and a moment later it's down the shoot as she grins at Jazz, "You ain't gonna outdistance me pretty boy..."

Pretty boy? Now that's something to make Jazz laugh. "Good luck, 'Stary." Still grinning. "Ready fer th' next round?"

Firestar burps just a teeny bit and nods, "Bring it." she replies with enthusiasm.

Scrapper has been called out by Firestar to actually drink something, and he can't let himself get outdone by an Autowench, so he might as well try one of these... Galvacannons. He picks one up, considers it, and says, "I'll stand in for Fleet, I guess." If he remembers and feels charitable, maybe he'll call some gumbies to haul Fleet back to the Decepticons quarters.

Fleet won't need hauling, thanks. As soon as everyone here is too drunk to notice, he'll be back on his feet again. But in the meantime, he's going to remain on the floor, flat on his back, doing a damned good job at pretending to be off-line while he listens instead of watches (since leaving his optics on will give him away). It's all the Seeker can do to keep from smiling to himself, but he manages it.

Scattershot looks over his back as the Decepticon falls on his own back, smirking. "All right, Foxfire, let's see you prove it!" He sets down a Galvcannon. What Autobot wouldn't like to say they were on the receiving end of one of those and survived to tell about it? Again, he looks over the other Autobots and calls on another round. The bartender was already prepared with round five, as he cleans up some of the empty glasses and disperses new ones full of a flat white liquid. Before he can partake in those, Shot takes his obligatory two shots to keep pace with the other 'Bots. Two rounds of two shots already.. we'll see how long he can keep up the pace. "Now, what did you say these shots were?" he leans forward and asks the bartender, before sitting back and promptly missing his seat. He stands up in a flourish, "WHO THE HELL MOVED MY CHAIR?!"

Firestar moves Shot's stool slightly to the left with her foot, grinning just a little as she slides it back into place as she grabs up the shot to look at it, "Wow, this stuff is -thick-..." she comments, not planning to be the first one to down it.

Ranger peers slightly unsteadily into the glass. "Taken the best that Ga- galvy can give, I have, took it fer... took it for 'Lita, 'f I recall." He turns to look at those present. "Yup, not a tough guy, but done my bit, tokk a Galvcannon f'r an Autobot, 'n I'm not gonna ..." He frowns, trying to remember what it is he's not going to. "Not gonna give in now!" HE declares, slightly too loud. "Bring it!" He leans forwards, lifting one of these new drink with interest. Raising his glass high, he declares 'here's to the..., uh, WHO THE HELL MOVED MY CHAIR!" before downing the drink and swaying unsteadily.

Foxfire snorts, hops down from his seat, and wanders over to the bar, where he jumps onto a stool and stares at the Galvcannon. Well, it won't be SO bad...hopefully. The saboteur gives a shrug, and starts lapping it up. One may hear him mutter something that sounds like, "Not bad."

Jazz casually reaches over to take the drinks. Carefully picking one up and swishing it around. "Moondust Chaos. Now I haven't had onna these in ages." And now... One down the hatch. Two .....take a moment to smirk at Scattershot's outburst, "Calm down, man. Chair ain't moved nowhere..." Careful words. And there goes the second one. And the lazy smile remains as Jazz tilts his head at Scattershot. "Next?"

Firestar drains the shot after Jazz names it, uttelry failing to mention that it was - in fact - she who moved the chair. She sits still for a spell after downing the shot just sorta stairing ahead with her head lolling slightly to one side.

Bonecrusher arrives from the Dim Alleyway to the north.

Bonecrusher has arrived.

Scrapper was rather knocked back by that last shot. Galvacannon. Really, really deserved its name. He grips the bar with one hand and contemplates a stool. The demented sculptor ends up eyeing Firestar. Now she'd make a nice stool. It's even so clear how all the pieces would fit together! Or maybe his vision has gone all screwy. He repeats "Who the hell moved my chair? Blasted Metroplex, that's who. Moved them all into the scrapyard." He downs the drink, anger glinting in his optic band for a moment. Then there's something that looks rather more like pain, albeit chemical rather than emotional.

Fleet continues to lie on the floor and do a very convincing impersonation of someone who's unconscious. He won't actually bother move until he's sure he's not being watched. In other words, pose out.

Ranger frowns, looking uncharacteristically annoyed. "Hey, hey. Two again? Damnit Jazz, 'S only s'posed to be onea reound." He frowns then, glaring at the bertender until he pours Ranger another one. "S'at? Moondust chaos? Thought it was the chair one?" HE stares at it for a moment, scrutinising it with a careful optic before shrugging and knocking another one back. "W'need strongrr drinks." Is his only comment.

Fleet has disconnected.

Firestar grins lopsidedly as she slurves her head around to grin at Scrapper, "After only one drink? Man, yer a -lightweight!-" she jabs a finger out meaningfully, tilting slightly with the movement before turning back, "So, what's next?"

Should Bonecrusher be doing a late night bar tour while competing at the Olympics? Well, he probably shouldn't. But he does feel the need for some pleasant distraction, his mood still glum due to the recent humiliation suffered at the hands and cone of Catechism. Squeezing himself through the patrons on the dancefloor which, as he notices, is already decorated with a passed out pastel Seeker, he spots Firestar and Scrapper and closes in on them. "Hey! You don't point at my brother like that!" he reprimands the female Autobot, before giving Scrapper a look, trying to gauge how drunk he is already. Apparently, very drunk.

Scattershot rights himself on his seat, looking around suspiciously for anyone who could have moved his chair. He glares at Jazz, for he's obviously a liar. Whatever Shot thinks must be true! He glances back to his side and notices Foxfire lapping up the Galvcannon. "Bout time." He was actually intending to give some encouragement, but the whole chair fiasco ruined that. Looking back at Ranger, he acknowledges that they do need more potent drinks. "All right Firestar.." he trails off after she queries, vacantly looking past the bartender as he clears off more rounds of shot glasses and replaces them with round six, a dull reddish-brown mix. "Cosmic Rust, this stuff'll knock yer on yer ass." Seriously upping the ante here. Think Bacardi 151. That's 151 proof, higher alcohol content than the rubbing alcohol in your Grandma's cabinet. "Ranger's right.. we're doing one shot at a time!" He looks over at Jazz accusingly.

Scrapper glares over at Firestar. Is it Scrapper's fault that he's short and not used to highly refined fuels? Payloaders take longer-chain hydrocarbons in their oil by nature. "Y'know, I think that city of yours must have stepped on a piece of you or two during his rampage. Smush! Just like that." Scrapper mimes out the smushing. He glances over at Bonecrusher and calls out, "C'mere!" He grabs the current drink and knocks it back, static-coughing wobbling a bit more. Is that a death-grip he has on the counter?

Firestar stares at the drink eagerly, "Now we're bringing out the big sticks!" she doesn't seem to have a slur, though her movements seem to be in slow motion and her head doesn't seem to be sitting straight on her neck. She gathers up a shot and grins, "Down the hatch..." she tilts her head back, pouring the shot down and sputters, coughing as it makes it's way to her stomach. She leans hard on the bar, even with the stool helping to keep her upright she lets out a hiss, leaning slightly to the side.

Bonecrusher glances at the drinks. Good thing he came; someone might have to /carry/ Scrapper back to the hotel after this. He gives Scrapper a cautious look, knowing that his brother can be an angry drunk, esp. when he's been thinking about Metroplex, but comes closer to him anyway, even wrapping an arm around Scrapper to keep him from falling over.

Jazz isn't a liar. A decent actor, perhaps, or perhaps a really orderly and calm and... stable being while overloaded. "Whatever you say, man." Jazz grins at Scattershot. "If ya can't handle it, ya can't handle it." Cosmic rust goes the way of the rest of the drinks that he's picked up. "... Nice kick." he comments. Was that a slur in his voice? Nah. whatever it was is gone now.

Foxfire has reconnected.

Ranger nods somewhat uncertainly, his optics flickering wider and narrower as if he is unsure as to how he should feel. "That's right!" He replies with painstaking care, "We've go the rust, but no corrostop in sight, indu- endure it folks!" With that he takes -two- glasses, fixing an optic on Jazz while he downs one of them, clearly holding the other should Jazz take two /this/ round as well.

Foxfire bats a paw at Scattershot, but loses his balance and nearly falls out of his seat. Thankfully, he latches onto it with his claws, seemingly out of pure instinct. "Please tell the bar t'stop spinnin'," he murmurs, and practically collapses onto the bar, resting his head there until the dizziness passes.

Bonecrusher points and laughs at Foxfire, a fun pastime he remembers from last time. Silly tape!

Scattershot eyes Ranger, then turns back to Jazz. "Ah, hell with it. I liked takin' two shots anyway." He grabs his two glasses of Cosmic Rust and downs them. Like Foxfire, the room is starting to spin for Scattershot too. Placing two fingers to his temple, he wills his vision to clear. No way he's gonna let Jazz show him up!

Firestar's tilt continues to become progressively more pronounced until she's leaning on Scattershot. After a brief moment she straightens up, blinking as if to clear her optics and glances around, "Whaz next?" she inquires perhaps a little sleepily.

Ranger regards Scattershot with some care, then returns his attention to the spare glass in his hand. "Two shots'a round y'say?" He hesitates for a moment before grinning and knocking back the second glass. "th hell. Sounds like fun."

Bonecrusher looks at drunken, leaning-on-Scattershot Firestar. "Primus, I wish Reflector was here... I would so love to take a few pictures," he says, mostly to Scrapper.

Scrapper should probably shove Bonecrusher away. However, he can't bring himself to be upset with his brother. Scrapper confide to his brother, "You make a great stand-in for a support strut." How that's for a weird compliment, eh? The more cowardly who know Scrapper might decide to edge away now.

Jazz almost sounds like he's going to giggle, "More fun that way, ain't it?" And there's another Cosmic Rust in his hand. "An' then?" Lazy grin. quick shot. Back to watching Scattershot.

Bonecrusher 's optic band flickers confusedly for a moment. Was that a compliment, or something more sinister? Surely, Scrapper wouldn't use his own brother for architectural purposes? Nevertheless, Bonecrusher moves away just a little bit.

"I see flyin' turborats," Foxfire mutters to no one in particular. "They're goin' 'round in circles..." He doesn't move his head from the bar, but his ears are twitching like crazy.

Bonecrusher makes a suggestion to Scrapper. "Do you think it would count as breaking the truce if we'd set Foxfire on fire? He is so drunk he wouldn't notice...

Scattershot ordinarily wouldn't stand for someone like Firestar to lean on him, but he's not exactly in the same mindset as usual. "Foxfire, pick a spot on the wall and stare at it, should help stop the spinning." Unfortunately for Bonecrusher, Scattershot notices him looking at Firestar before commenting about Reflector. "Hey, Bonecrusher! I've already had my way with ya in the asteroid belt, I'll finish the job if you don't knock it off!" he threatens, for the time forgetting about the Olympic treaty. He rub's Firestar shoulder comfortingly, as if that'll make it better than Bonecrusher said mean things. His hand lingers on her back. Then round seven arrives! He moves his hand before realizing what he'd done to help spread out the new brand of shot: The Heart of Cybertron. It looks innocent enough, colored candy-apple red, and those who drink it should notice a splendid aftertaste. Still, like the drink before, we're talking 151 proof here. Deceiving!

Scrapper unsteadily tries to stand up straight and get a good look at Foxfire. All he manages to do is lose his balance momentarily and end up clinging to Bonecrusher's arm like some vacuum tube-headed femmecon. He replies, sounding a little confused, "Um... Flaming Foxfire. That'd be a good drink, wouldn't it?"

"Right...wall...got'cha..." Foxfire groggily lifts his head and *somehow* manages to get down from the stool without making himself look like an idiot. He's unaware that the Constructicons are talking about him as he staggers drunkenly over to the closest corner and just sits there, staring at the wall.

Firestar tilts her head to regard to new shot in front of her, optics flickering before she sits up, "Oooo, this one's pretty." she comments with a definite slur. She gathers up a shot, not even bothering to try and put on the gusto that the others are. She's aware in that head of her's that she lost, now she's just drinking for the fun of it. She downs the drink and smiles dreamily, "That was tastey...." she comments before a little burp escapes her... and then the weight of the shot drops into her stomach causing a coughing fit, "Ooog."

Foxfire has partially disconnected.

Ranger wobbles slightly as he leans over Foxfire, his face forming a concerned expression. "Y'okay Foxfire?" He half-turns to watch the others at the bar, muttering to himself. "Oh slag. Now I'll have to carry him back." He sighs, turning his attention to the latest drink. Maybe, if he applies himself, he /won't/ have to. Hmmm. "Heart of Cybertron, eh? Makes me feel damn'd patriotic, that does." With that he snags to glasses and lifts them into the air with a jubilant shout. "Here's hopin' for a peaceful ressi- resolution!" Then he swallows them both, one right after the other.

Bonecrusher heckles Scattershot, feeling save from him for the moment both because of the Olympics truce and, moreso, because Scattershot seems to be way too drunk to fight at the moment. "Oh look, Scattershot is protecting his girlfriend! Oh, I'm scared!" he says mockingly.

Firestar's optics flash, she's not -that- drunk... as she turns to Bonecrusher, gritting out through sleepy optics, "What. Did. You. Say?"

Jazz's grin gets bigger. "Nice choice. These are premo-- shoulda started out with somma these." reaching for two shots, of course. Jazz is the two fisted drinker, he is. And the only sign of the kick that follows these drinks... is a slight cough, and a slight vagueness to the smile. The musical 'Bot starts humming some old Earth tune. Bon Jovi, it sounds like.

"I said, it's cute how Scattershot is protecting you," Bonecrusher repeats for Firestar's benefit, giving her a nasty leering look just to be obnoxious.s well I see. Nothin' wrong with that." she turns back to the bar, the movement almost causing her to slide right off the stool.

"M'fine," comes the almost slurred reply as Foxfire continues staring at the wall. "I c'n hold m'energon...really." Or...maybe not, as now he simply collapses onto his side, giggling like a moron at nothing.

Bonecrusher looks at Scrapper, "Did she just call you my 'missus'?"

Scrapper is evidently Mrs. Bonecrusher. He's certainly doing a good job hanging off Bonecrusher's arm, what with that death-grip he was applying to the counter earlier. His visor flashes, and he readies a repartee to Firestar's wrong, wrong, wrong jeer, static crackling, like the call of thunder heralding a storm. Then his visor dims out. Zrt.

Evidently thinking of a witty comeback in his sloshed state took so much processing power that it burned him right out. Oops.