Cinderblock is sitting in a chair, apparently recouperating. He's tapping at a datapad, while whimsical Russian music fills the air.

Long Haul is standing in the back of the room, situated between the meditable where Arachnae lies unconscious and the door, standing and facing the door. And tolerating the Russian music, although he occasionally gives a glance in Cinderblock's direction to show that no, he does not like hearing it. Damned Earth music. A proper astrotrumpet piece, or an old Decepticon march would be much better!

Onslaught is similarly seated, as if waiting for an appointment at an overbooked doctor's office. But rather than twiddling his thumbs, he reads the latest issue of Decepticon Lifestyle magazine on his datapad, and considers taking his team for a vacation to Monacus while reading a travel ad.

Cinderblock grr, "C'mon! ...Aww feldspar!" He taps the console quickly, "Turn turn tu...no not there!" He snarls and tosses the thing to the side, "...blasted humans!" He glares at it, "...miserable...Tetris... I wish I was out shooting so... Oooo, I made the lines disappear."

Scrapper is just in and out of the medical bay like some indecisive subatomic particle. Currently, he is in the medical bay, although his location could change in an instant, like previously said subatomic particle might pop out of existence. He's a busy fellow, after all. For the moment, though, Scrapper is checking over the rounds, which brings him over to Onslaught's table.

Onslaught inclines his head up from reading the travel ad on his datapad and sees Scrapper standing there. Fortunately he doesn't test the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle by staring too closely, since that might cause Scrapper to dissappear to a random location. "Scrapper. It has been some time since I last visited the repair bay. But fortunately, I think my damage is relatively minor."

Long Haul starts to raise his hand so that he can cover his face out of wariness for having tolerated Cinderblock's Tetris playing for so long, but then reminds himself that no, he has to keep his optical sensors open and trained on the door. It's a dull job, but it's necessary. Much like his normal job of carrying stuff around.

Cinderblock blinks as the device goes dead in his hand, "Out of power? Of all the consarning low lanthinide treachery!" He holds it up and peers at the back of it as if he were some primitive caveman assessing well...a datapad. He taps it slightly, "...hrm, now how did we get the old model twelves to...OH RIGHT!" He proceeds to batter the poor datapad against the chair.

Scrapper glances over at the roster. Yeah, he's scheduled to be here, on duty, now. Drat, they've defined both his when and where! No more pretending to be a subatomic particle for Scrapper. Guess he'll just have to patch up Onslaught, even if he is a member of one of those new-fangled combining teams with only five members. He notes, "Minor is good," and then pulls out a medical scanner to get a more detailed analysis of what is wrong with the Combaticon leader.

You take several moments to run a medical scan on Onslaught...

Long Haul actually does take his optical sensor off the door long enough to train them on Cinderblock. "All right, you. If you're gonna start breaking stuff, go somewhere else. This place is for FIXIN' stuff."

Onslaught glances over at Cinderblock for making such a commotion, but decides not to complain, because of his efforts at the recent battle with Defensor. Returning his attention to Scrapper, he announces, "The missile turret on my back probably needs the most work...", he gestures with a thumb. "Defensor knocked Bruticus on his back once or twice." Which explains how it got crushed.

"Could have been worse. Could have been Metroplex," Scrapper notes idly. The medical scanner reports back that Onslaught's injuries are indeed minor, and so Scrapper simply dives right into fixing things, not bothering with, oh, local anaesthesia or disconnecting Onslaught's pain sensors in that area. Busily patching up the minor damage to Onslaught's turret, he notes aloud, "Cinderblock, try to keep it down or go elsewhere."

Cinderblock hrms and looks over at Scrapper, nodding with a sigh, "Yeah...Sir." He peers at the datapad and growls for a moment, placing it into his cockpit storage.

Well, he didn't listen to Long Haul, but at least he listened. Still... Cinderblock treats Scrapper more respectfully than pretty much anyone else Long Haul knows of, which is strange, given that Scrapper's kind of a coward with no real backbone or anything. Hmph. Oh, and for the record, Long Haul is still standing Arachnae guard duty, only now, instead of sitting behind the meditable, he's now standing between her table and the door, facing the door.

Also, Long Haul goes back to watching the door. Yes, he's being unusually quiet.

Onslaught thumbs his chin as Scrapper works on his turret. "Scrapper, if you don't mind my asking...as a combiner team leader, have you ever organized a vacation for your group?" He glances back down at the Monacus ad. "I was thinking of doing something for the Combaticons, to boost morale, etcetera."

Cinderblock blinks, "Monacus? Eh, I know a nice place down in Sheol. The fembots wander around with their bare circuits out, and they serve you energon made from the lower lanthinide group!" He grins, "And you get to watch fleshlings beat the crap out of one another in a gladitorial arena." He pauses for a moment, "...the hell did they call it..."

Onslaught nods to Cinderblock. "There would seem to be quite a variety of... activities... available to help get their minds off things and give them a chance to rest from their labors. Perhaps we could go before the Olympics begin, I hear that's when their busy season starts."

Scrapper continues patching up the turret, which really just amounts to buffing out a few dents here and there. He pauses, trying to remember... holidays. Hrm. "Now and then, although, say, just letting one team member have a vacation is a bad idea. You get stuck unable to combine, which is just a mess. Are there really enough active Decepticons that you can just take time off like that?" Scrapper's tone is more curious than anything. There is life beyond work?

Long Haul NEVER gets to go on vacation. He crosses his arms and assumes a pouting pose. "Even when we're not fighting, there's always something to be built, or something that needs to be hauled," he grumbles. "For a Constructicon it never ends. We don't get down time between battles, or stuff like that." Everyone should have known that all those complaints were just WAITING to tumble out.

Onslaught says, "Not giving your troops a chance to rest, constitutes a significant tactical error. After an extended period of more-or-less continous combat, their morale, initiative, and performance can be found lacking. They must be shown that the Empire will take care of them, to strengthen their own confidence in it."

Cinderblock raises his hand, "Slag yeah! I always make sure to allow thus under -my- command to relax!"

Long Haul shakes his head. "Naw, you doan' get it. When the battles are over, we're still stuck cleanin' it up, fixin' everyone, rebuilding what was broken. That's why /we/ doan' get the down time. It's not the continuous combat thing. We've jus' got too many other jobs that have to be taken care of." Then he tilts his head just enough to look at Cinderblock. "You got folks under your command?" he asks.

Onslaught says, "Don't get me wrong, Cinderblock. I am a strong advocate of discipline--to keep the mind and body of our soldiers trained and alert. I merely comprehend that too much forced discipline without an occasional reprieve can be counterproductive."

Scrapper snorts. Yeah, well, the Constructicons take a break, and there'll be broken elevators, jammed doors, and expired Decepticons everywhere. It doesn't really matter what they think or feel. And discipline... yeah. Trying to keep Constructicons in order is like trying to herd mechacats. He mumbles, "Sometimes, that kind of holiday's just not viable."

Cinderblock smirks, "Why not stagger the holidays, Sir? Like have Long Haul and Scavenger go off for a while or something. There's definately enough a'ya."

Scrapper just stares at Cinderblock. "Didn't I already say that letting a few members have a holiday is a Bad Idea? For example, if Long Haul gets stuck on some podunk planet while on holiday, that means no Devastator, and no Devastator means an Empire lacking one of its finest engines of destruction."

Cinderblock blinks, "Well respectfully, Sir. We do have a -lot- of gestalts. Like Bruticus, or Menasor, or...that other one."

"An' not a one of them was around to keep New Crystal City from Metroplex," Long Haul observes grimly, lowering his head slightly as he speaks. Then he shakes his head and looks up at Onslaught. "No offense or anything, sir. I mean, yer guy Swindle, he did what he could and all."

Onslaught nods solemnly to Scrapper. "I understand. Your group's consistent contribution to the Empire is both essential and substantial. Perhaps opportunities for rest and entertainment can be afforded to it in the future, as the pool of available MSE staff expands to allow it to temporarily cover such an activity in your absence." He deactivates his datapad and stows it away in some random compartment.

Scrapper pauses. Did Onslaught actually just acknowledge that the Constructicons consistently contribute a great deal to the Empire? How... stating the obvious. Still, Scrapper doubles checks to make extra sure that all the dents are out of that turret, anyway. Scrapper waves a hand vaguely and comments, "Maybe. It's not so much the medical aspect alone as that we're about the only gestalt team that can fix everything once our combined form is done breaking it."

Onslaught nods, well aware of how chaotic most combiner teams are when in their super robot mode. But Devastator, being the prototype, is only half as intelligent as Bruticus. He feels so sorry for the Constructicons in that regard, and understands to some degree how frustrating this duality of creating and destroying must be for them. Realizing that Scrapper is pretty much done with the turret, he nods to him. "Thank you, Commander," he says simply, not wanting to consume any more of his time than necessary. He wonders what it must be like to be so underappreciated.

Cinderblock is fiddling with his vulcan cannon, and checking his readouts...

Long Haul shakes his head, looks over at Cinderblock, and says rather tiredly, as though he's been having to give directions like this for a good while, "Be careful about that in here." Ladies and gentlemechs, meet Long Haul, librarian.

Cinderblock looks at Long Haul, and waves his hand, "Do I look like some seeker fresh off the battery line? I don't squeeze off shells when I don't wanna." He spins the barrel, although it only gets so far until it hits a bit of rust and sparks, "...blast..." He engages the motor, filling the room with a screeching horrid unpleasantness. It sounds like someone is trying to climb up a turbowolf's rear end.

Scrapper puts away his tools and steps aside. He shrugs. "Eh. It's my job." He is then distracted by Cinderblock. He places his hands on his hips and notes firmly, "Cinderblock. This is a medical ward, not an ordinance testing field. Cease and desist or get out." Scrapper may be a coward, but he *knows* he can scare Cinderblock.

Cinderblock blinks and looks over at Scrapper, "...I was just checking it over, Sir!"

Onslaught stands up and walks to an empty portion of the repair bay. There he transforms to vehicle mode temporarily, and tests the missile launcher's freedom of movement. Satisfied, he reverts to robot mode, and makes his way toward the exit. He nods to those he passes on the way out.

Onslaught moves west to the IHQ Central Chamber.

Onslaught has left.

Scrapper wiggles his fingers in the slightly ominous way of technicians and chastises, "'Just checking it over' shouldn't involve noises like that! In fact, are you sure that you don't require a check-over? Have a professional look at vulcan for you?" Scrapper idly opens up his medical kit and checks over one of his scalpels. This one's not shiny-sharp, like the ones that he uses for surgery. This one is, in fact, rusted out and chipped and has had a new tip affixed, suggesting that it was once broken.

Cinderblock blinks as he notices the scalpel, "...uh...it can wait, Sir..."

Long Haul trains his optic band back towards the door, but this time he radiates smug. Amazing, isn't it, how a modest, cowardly technician can still put the fear of lime-green in the Mil Ops types from time to time? Way to go, Scrapper!

Scrapper waves the rusted wreck of a scalpel and inquires, tone cloying with false concern, "You sure you're all right? Wouldn't want one of valiant MilOps Troopers to, Primus forbid, have a weapons malfunction and be unable to shoot up the Autobots."

Cinderblock smirks, "Resp'ctly, Sir. Its been rattling like this for vorns now." He taps it, "Its just old, like me."

Bonecrusher arrives from the IHQ Central Chamber to the west.

Bonecrusher has arrived.

Scrapper is standing around with a rusted out wreck of a scalpel in one hand. He waves the scalpel, as if he doesn't realise the hand he's gesturing with is holding a knife, and shakes his head. "Now, now, age is no excuse for poor maintenance."

Long Haul is still standing around doing nothing, like always! Well, he's guarding Arachnae. He grumbles slightly and shakes his head, looking over at Cinderblock. "Then it ain' been taken care of in Vorns! Old isn't an excuse!"

Cinderblock watches the scalpel and sighs. He nods and reaches over, and with a crunching noise, disengages the weapon's assembly and tosses it to Scrapper, "Here you go, Sir."

Bonecrusher salutes Scrapper, and also acknowledges Long Haul's and Cinderblock's presence with a nod.

Bonecrusher waits to address Scrapper, since the latter seems to be busy with Cinder.

Scrapper waves to his brother, again with the hand holding the scalpel. He tsks and paces over to the discarded weapon assembly. With some disdain, he picks up the component and comments wryly, "You really oughtn't toss around your parts like that... although given this particular piece's condition, I do have to wonder if it makes any difference."

Cinderblock smirks, "They built em to last in the old days."

Scrapper stares at Cinderblock coldly, turning the weapons assembly over in his hands, scalpel tucked away for now. "Just because something is built to last doesn't rule out extenuating circumstances." New Crystal City was built for eternity, after all, and it didn't see a century. Yes, he's still bitter.

"Sides. Nothin' lasts if you doan' take proper care of it," Long Haul replies, crossing his arms, obviously grumpy. He's been stuck with this guard job long enough that it's starting to feel like hauling, and THAT'S far too long. But besides, for all he WANTS to be a warrior, he's still a Constructicon, still a technician, which means he knows a thing or two about proper upkeep.

Cinderblock lewdly looks at the open hole in his fussilage where the weapon plugs in, "...can I have that back soon, Sir?"

Bonecrusher walks over to Scrapper. He can figure what the other is thinking about, and feels no less bitter. After all, NCC had also been /his/ city. "Speaking of which..." he says, referring to Long Haul's comment, but addressing Scrapper. "I wanted to ask you to give me another checkup, just to make sure I have no more toothmarks and such on me."

<Constructicons> Bonecrusher says, "Just giving you an excuse to use your repairing and reactivating skills. ;)"

"You can have it back when I'm done with it, " Scrapper replies, quite taking his time with the weapons assembly. That's what A-10s get for being noisy in Scrapper's medical bay! Oh, Bonecrusher needs a look-over? Family comes first, and so much for professionalism. Scrapper says, "In a minute, Bonecrusher. Long Haul, why don't you look over this assembly? See if you can find everything that's wrong with it." Ah, plaguing MilOps members with unneeded maintenance. It's fun *and* educational!

Cinderblock frowns and nods, "About how long, Sir?"

Bonecrusher is quite amused at Scrapper's treatment of Cinderblock, just-so managing to suppress a smile. Ahhh, the joys of being a Constructicon!

Long Haul accepts the weapons assembly and gives it a quick, initial inspection. "It'd be a lot quicker if you got this thing checked up on more often!" he snaps. Yes, he can play surly technician instead of just surly transporter, too! He may not be able to fix most robots, but weapons assemblies he can handle.

Long Haul hesitates just a moment before leaving his post and heading over to a work bench. "It'll be as long as it takes," he snaps to Cinderblock.

Cinderblock crosses his arms, "I just don't want to end up flying into a mission without my primary weapon." He motions to it, "Model A1 chain-gun assembly. Its not pretty, none of those laser sights or tracking computers...but it gets tje job done."

Long Haul begins taking apart the weapon, pulling out an assortment of cleaning chemicals and other tools as he does. He shakes his head slightly and tilts his optics ceilingward. "I'll get this done before yer ready to get outta here, Cinderblock, but it'll take a lot longer if you wanna keep PESTERING about it! You just better thank Primus Scrapper din't hand this over to Hook, else you'd NEVER get it back." With that Long Haul gets to work on cleaning the unit up. And what is this?! He looks like he might actually have some clue what he's doing!

This may be a sign of the Apocalypse. Be very afraid.

Cinderblock nods, "Your help is appreciated, Long Haul, you just know.." He sticks his hand into the gaping hole on his arm, "...some of us feel a little naked without our guns...even if they are detachab...HEY NEAT!" He takes a dusty energon goodie out of the hole in his arm, "Score!"

Scrapper paces over to Bonecrusher and withdraws a medical scanner. He hmms and inquires, "Who fixed you, anyway?"

"Well, that's whatcha GET for runnin' round with them hanging out all the time, instead of keepin' them nice and neat and zipped up in subspace where they belong," Long Haul returns as he drops one entire sub-assembly into a container of cleaning solution before picking up another part and examining it rather closely. "Eh. You got a lotta gunk... rust or something... stuck up in here. Looks like it may be the cause of the noise. Won't be any problem takin' care of that."

You take several moments to run a medical scan on Bonecrusher...

"That would have been our very own Hook," Bonecrusher replies to Scrapper. "If you find any damage he missed, don't forget to tell him." He smiles mischievously.

Vortex arrives from the IHQ Central Chamber to the west.

Vortex has arrived.

Cinderblock doesn't lose track of where his gun is going, "...be nice not to sound like I'm rearranging Laserbeak's optics everytime I fire it, yeah..."

"You have to remind me?" Scrapper replies, mock-hurt. Yeah, Scrapper's so going to rub in Hook's face anything that the surgeon missed, and it look like he may. Score! "Just stay still for a moment..." The engineer pops open a few of Bonecrusher's panels and fiddles with a few connections.

Scrapper goes to work on Bonecrusher, bringing it back to consciousness.

You successfully revive Bonecrusher.

Long Haul snickers softly as he he uses what looks, really, like a long q-tip or something to clean out the piece of the weapon he's working on. "Hey, if there's somethin' Hook messed up, let me know!" he booms cheerfully. It's ALWAYS fun to stick it to the perfectionist! Then he nods without actually looking up at Cinderblock. "Well, look, nothin' on you is SUPPOSED to be makin' noises like that, so if there is, somethin's wrong, and ignorin' it is only gonna make it that much worse down the road. Got it?" At this point he finishes with the q-tip begins a final cleaning before putting it all back together.

Long Haul tosses the weapon back to Cinderblock.

Bonecrusher holds still for Scrapper while observing Long Haul out of the corner of his optic band.

Cinderblock nods and re-engages the weapon. He peers at it for a moment, feeling a little girly... He looks back and nods, "Thanks, Much."

Scrapper finishes fiddling with the connections, closes Bonecrusher up, and then... jumps up and punches the air. Landing with a clang, he exclaims, "Of all the stupid things... our dear surgeon brother forgot to reconnect your transformation circuitry! Isn't that rich?"

Bonecrusher grins. "Oh yes! We'll never let him live that down, won't we?"

Long Haul task complete, Long Haul returns to his 'post'. He looks over at Scrapper and says, far too excited, "What? You're kiddin'!" Then he starts laughing. Hard. "That's great! That's just fantastic!" Yes, it will be a LONG time before Hook lives this one down. In fact, it'll be, "Never," answers NEVER.

Vortex pokes his head in the door, having been avoiding the med bay for his own inexplicable reasons ever since the battle, but his residual damage was becoming more of a nuisance than the Constructicons generally were, so he decided to finally risk the ridicule of the loopy gestalt and make an appearance. Of course there had to be /three/ of them present, to boot...

Straightening and summoning all his courage and surliness to bear, Vortex strides in and finds a seat. "I need some repairs, if you're done rejoicing," he comments dryly. "Something about being an arm in a big battle does nasty things to one's internal alignment."

Long Haul wouldn't know. He's the ass. He looks over as Vortex and shakes his head, then tilts his optic band ceilingward and exclaims, "What is this?! Combaticon day in medical? Why doesn't no one take care of these things when they happen!?"

"Tell me about it," Bonecrusher says to Vortex, then adds sarcastically. "Of course we always have time for one of the /smaller/ gestalts, don't we?"

Scrapper is in such a great mood now, and he snorts with laughter. So Hook takes forever and he leaves out one of the most obvious things, to boot? This is even better than the time Hook got half-painted pink and got a traffic cone glued to his head! And then... Vortex. Bah. Scrapper notes, "I fixed your boss earlier today. And I didn't forget the transform circuitry, unlike Hook!" Okay, absolutely nothing was wrong with Onslaught's transform circuitry, he just had minor damage to a turret. But if there had been, Scrapper would so have not forgot it.

Vortex grumbles and glowers. He didn't come here to be abused, he wanted to be repaired, but as the room was crawling with Constructicons, he supposed a heaping portion of abuse was coming his way whether he liked it or not. "Just repair me and stop bantering."

/Onslaught/ had no problems! /Onslaught/ treated the Constructicons respectfully, so they took care of him and sent him on his way! Nearly all the Constructicons want respect and recognition in one way or another above all, so they can be very easily handled... if you take that into account.

Long Haul makes a soft snickering noise where he's standing 'guard duty' and shakes his head. Yeah. Good idea. Piss off Scrapper right before he's ready to start playing with your insides. He watches the scene with interest to see if Vortex gets to learn this the hard way.

Bonecrusher looks almost as amused as Long Haul. "I'm sure Scrapper will start to repair you when he has time."

Scrapper says softly, "Take a table, please, Vortex." He then withdraws the rusted old scalpel that he was toying with earlier. Scrapper generally saves it for artistic pursuits, but it's not *that* unsanitary, and just because Onslaught's currently in the Constructicon's good books doesn't mean that Scrapper will extend the same courtesy to Onslaught's brethren.

Vortex notices the rust. Oh, scrap. This was not good. He /knew/ better than to mouth off to the Constructicons, he really did, but somehow they always managed to rub him the wrong way... Ohhh, this was going to hurt. Immensely. "Er... Scrapper, did I mention that I've a bit of a collection of old Autobot parts I've been saving for a long time? I don't have enough room for it, perhaps you'd like it...?"

Bonecrusher notices Scrapper's choice of scalpel and snickers to the side.

Long Haul's optics dim as he starts laughing, although he struggles not to do so out loud, causing the laughter to be muffled but his frame to shake hard. Of course, Vortex's response means that Scrapper probably WILL play nice now. After all, his brother is ALWAYS a sucker for new art supplies, but hearing Vortex say it alone is entertainment enough.

Scrapper's optic band narrows. The siren lure of art supplies wars with the desire to make the repair job hell for the snarky helicopter. He puts away the ruined scalpel and sidles over to Vortex's side. Tone now falsely friendly, Scrapper remarks, as if speaking of the weather, "You don't say."

Bonecrusher observes the scene attentively and amusedly.

Vortex nods quickly, quite pleased that Scrapper put down the very scary scalpel so quickly. "Yes. It's mostly optics and other little trinkety bits, you know, the parts an interrogator often has to remove to get an unwilling captive to talk..." He is trying valiantly not to shake. Oh, the Constructicons unnerve him so. Darn necessary evils.

Vortex gets a sudden bright idea. "In fact, I'll go get them, right now." He nods, as if agreeing with himself. "I'll be right back with them." He darts out, headed out for his collection of Autobot 'souvenirs.'

Vortex has disconnected.

Scrapper now looks genuinely interested and says, "Wow, you actually collect that stuff?" Guess Vortex has more taste than Scrapper had given him credit for. Yeah, he can work with that. And then... aww shoot, Vortex is gone. Still, he files that information away. Even if Vortex doesn't buy Scrapper off with optics today, he can always try and lean on Vortex some other day to snag some art supplies.

Long Haul stops trying to hold in his laughter and they burst forth in a flood of bellows. He leans forward, placing his arms on his knees to support himself while he laughs. After a minute the guffawing subsides and Long Haul recovers. He stands up straight and shakes his head. "Y'know what? It's great to be a Constructicon!"

Scrapper raises an arm in cheer and agrees, "Slagged straight! The pioneer gestalt team and the only team that does double duty in destruction and in construction." Ah, the engineer hasn't felt this good in a while. Had a civil discussion with a fellow gestalt team leader? Check. Scared two MilOps members? Check. Found something wrong in one of hook's repair jobs? Check. Learned of a possible new art supply source? Check. Blasted good day, and he didn't get shot at, either!

Bonecrusher allowed himself to slap Scrapper on the shoulder. His mood, too, was decidedly cheerful. "How right, how right!"

Of course, now Long Haul is back on guard duty. Which, in order to do correctly, he's learning he has approach similarly to the way he approaches hauling. Which, of course, totally takes all the fun out of it.

For a moment, a dreadful thought occurs to Long Haul. What if, to be a really good warrior, he has to start viewing combat in the same way? Is the only way to be a warrior to take all the fun out of it?

No! No! Never! Long Haul refuses to believe it has to be that way! He's got to have something to hope for, even if he knows that when the daydream is over, he's back to being the same old hauler!

But he does need a top off. The transporter looks over at Bonecrusher and orders, "'Ey. Get over here and stand by for a moment, will ya? I needa grab a mug of energon."

Bonecrusher is indeed in such a good mood that he says, "Certainly. All I need to do I stand here, watch, and keep people from poking the lady, right?"

Bonecrusher says, "Oh and - bring me some energon too, would you?""

Scrapper sighs and shakes his head, optic band glowing warmly. Such a good day. However, returning to his previous subatomic particle-like state, it occurs to him that perhaps he should not be in this location. "Well, I'm going to finish up a few things in the lab. Radio me or track me down if you need me... or if Hook gets in. Especially if Hook checks in."

Long Haul nods his head once. "Yeah, sure. Whatever." Because even with a break from hauling, now he's got to... carry energon around. He plods to one of the back canbinets and unlocks it, pulling out his own energon mug and an unmarked extra. "Sure, Scrapper," he answers, although he'll be sure to needle Hook for awhile first himself. Then he plods over to the dispensor and fills both mugs with energon before returning and giving the plain one to Bonecrusher.