@Gravescratch perks his helm up from his hiding spot in a large pile of rubble, all six antennae perking up in interest, and climbs out of the hole to get a better look at… whatever that is with all the limbs. Is that some sort of… no, actually, he doesn’t have /any/ idea what that it. The intimidatingly large mech near it doesn’t seem to be acting like it’s terribly dangerous, at least. Still… is he /really/ curious enough to go and see what- who is he kidding, yes, he is curious enough.

arctos-sleuth:

@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.