@gravescratch
Specter had known something was alive in the rubble, but the sheer bulk of it had hindered his readings. At least until the bot had pulled itself out.
Bruin debates for a moment on pretending to ignore it and maintaining the element of surprise, but shuffles that aside quickly. Spotter and the wolves are off on long distance recon, alert to what’s happening but unconcerned as Bruin is.
A silent command is given, and Specter, in all his shadowy glory, whips around to face the mound of rubble hiding the unknown entity. Neck coiled back, tail arched, and legs planted, his biolights flickering out. He is more than eager to hunt, even if it’s only a turbofox.
::Steady Specs, no jumping the gun::
《I know the game, quit worrying》
http://gravescratch.tumblr.com/post/156545592618/my-dentae-are-primarily-made-for-crushing-and
Gravescratch raises his antennae in the closest thing he can manage to a smile, mostly in order to remove the threat aspect of what he does next. Which is let his mouth hang open and his tongue loll out, displaying a full set of teeth made to saw through metal and rip potential meals apart. He’s definitely a scavenger, and an effective one at that, if those teeth are anything to go by.
He doesn’t miss the nervousness, unsurprisingly, and responds by shutting his mouth and, after a second or two, bumping his faceplate into Bruin’s cheek. Okay. Hopefully that helps. That is absolutely not something any scientist would do, nuzzling an interesting person. Definitely not Shockwave’s actions. “I cannot hack you and would have no desire to do so if I could.” he whispers, taking a guess at what the problem might be, then swivels several of his optics around to look up at-
And that is definitely a falcon large enough to be a major concern for him and his lack of armor. And cyberwolves. Big ones. Ah- more symbiotes.
Gravescratch’s servos keep moving, both right servos on Bruin’s front, the left on his back, but his helm swivels around to look at the new arrivals and their prize. “Ah, nice- moderately fresh, I take?” he asks, tilting his helm slightly and eyeing the wolves, and moves around to Bruin’s other side so he can face them without looking back over his own shoulders. Hm, that looks tasty. He’s not going to even remotely suggest his interest in it, though, people don’t like that. Especially when they’ve just gone and found their own meal.
Hm. “Would you like to return my inspections? I will not object to you touching me. You seem calm enough, and, honestly, there is little I would object to.” the lanky mech hums, fluffing up what little armor he has in order to invite touch. And accidentally lining that offer up with a lick to basically the entire side of his helm that unintentionally shows his tongue off. It’s not an intentional proposition, but, given that one of his servos drifts down to Bruin’s stomach at the same time, it certainly seems like one. He’s just a bit too oblivious to notice.
The nuzzle is reassuring, even more so when Gravescratch hits the scraplet on the head with his comment. He’s still fragged in the helm from Shockwave and likely always will be.
《Who the frag is-》
《You got cozy quick boss-》
《Should we be concerned-》
The wolves all attempt to communicate at the same time once they step into view. Spotter just swoops down to his traditional perch on Bruins shoulder as the other mech switches sides.
Specter’s place on Gravescratch’s shoulder, and Bruin’s continual calm through their bond is enough to convince them that no one needs a limb torn off immediately. In fact, the boss is really digging this guy.
The orange crest that gathered his attention earlier is beginning to twitch slightly.
“Fresh enough for us” Pointbreak says, as he watches them- that is an impressive tongue right there.
Bruin would have to agree, despite having just seen the teeth that go with it. He’s going to take you up on that offer, carefully feeling around the joints where his second arms meet his torso, and straying a bit under the armor there.
Still projecting calm curiosity with a growing hint of interest, Gravescratch watches the new arrivals, servos drifting down Bruin’s side- and tenses, just a bit, at the touches. Not a spot he was expecting to have touched, especially not like that, and-
Ahh, he flirted accidentally. Again. Visibly relaxing and leaning into the touches a bit to make it clear that he isn’t rejecting them, he turns to look the wolves over, clearly sizing them up, then chuckles and leans up to nuzzle that pretty spiked crest. It’s very soft, and it’s not curiosity-based- it’s closer to affection, maybe a bit of reassurance.
Not quite a suggestion, but he’s trying to hint that he’s open. He’s not actually going to say anything, just in case he’s misinterpreted the situation and will scare them off or end the contact if he mentions it, but… open body language, staying much closer than is really needed for an inspection, fluffed plating around those exploring servos… he’s making it clear that he’d welcome more attention.
At this point, he’s worked his way down to Bruin’s stomach, and he lightly strokes the plating under his narrow servos as he tries to decide what to do next. The logical progression would be the big mech’s thighs, but… hm. What will the reaction to that be?
And is he going to get any sort of reaction by deliberately licking the other side of his helm, but much more slowly and obviously? Because, short of describing his distinctly unusual interface equipment, this is the best way to get people into berth with him.
…hm. If this is going how he thinks, they’ll need a berth.
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