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ante_luceTitle: 24 Hours
'Verse: G1 Transformers
Characters: Prowl. Jazz.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: TF cussing.
A knock on his door had him calling out distractedly for whoever it was to enter, and when black and white plating appeared before his optics, Prowl looked up at Jazz’s wry expression with what he felt was justifiable caution.
“Is there something I can do for you, Jazz?”
“Well, it’s more what can I do for you.”
The SIC sighed tiredly, rubbing a hand over his faceplates before fixing a look onto the saboteur. “Jazz… I’m rather busy and have no time for wordplay with you right now, so please let me know if you’re being facetious.”
“And if I’m being serious, Prowl?” That visor tilted almost solemnly at him, and the tactician replied as he picked up another datapad from his desk.
“Then tell me exactly why you decided to drop into my office and make your offer. ‘Just because you felt like it’ is not an acceptable answer, and will get you a trip to the med bay and a processor scan from Ratchet.”
“Sounds fun.”
“Be sure to let Ratchet know you said that. Good bye.”
Jazz vented air quietly, then reached out to stop the Datsun from picking up the next report. “Prowl, you remember that poker tourney Sideswipe organised?”
“I do. Particularly the element that seemed to require much imbibing of high grade. The rec room was uninhabitable for the next two days, and Red Alert hasn’t stopped muttering about the security risks yet.”
The tactician raised a patient optic ridge at the Porsche, and the Ops head chuckled softly in response. “Right… You took part though.”
“I was refuelling, and ended up getting a basic overview of the rules before being pushed into Ratchet’s seat when he was called to the med bay for a minor emergency.”
“I heard you won that game.”
“Sideswipe was gratifyingly stunned. Where are you going with this?”
“Well… Ratchet and Sideswipe were the last two mechs in the competition. But you took the Doc’s place and won, so you get his winnings.”
“That’s hardly fair. Ratchet played for most of the event.”
“He thought you should get it. Said you deserved it for kicking Sideswipe’s aft, even though you were a newbie to the game and all. And I’m not about to argue with him.”
Prowl was staring at the saboteur now, a look of realisation and vague dread on his faceplates. Leaning back into his chair, he let out a long, slow sigh. “Dare I ask how you ended up as stakes in a poker game?”
“Lost a bet with Sideswipe. Said he couldn’t go for a fortnight without getting into trouble, much less a month.” Jazz shrugged, and the SIC shook his head.
“And what did you offer him if he did?”
“Twenty four hours of my time if he stayed brig and lecture free for two weeks, double that for a month.”
The Datsun paused. “I think I’d recall not seeing him for disciplinary action for a month. If anything, Optimus and Ratchet would insist on commemorating the occasion with something noisy and exaggerated.”
“That’s ‘cos he didn’t last that long. But he did clear the two weeks, so he got my twenty four hours. Only, he decided to wager that in poker and as a result, you’ve got my services for that long. So, what do you want me to do first?” The Porsche grinned at the chevroned mech, only for Prowl to turn back to his reports.
“You don’t have to do anything. Don’t worry.”
“I’m a mech of my word, Prowl. I don’t back out of my deals.” Jazz frowned at him, and the SIC gestured loosely at the Ops mech.
“You are not backing out. I am absolving you of all obligations with regards to whatever I won from Sideswipe.”
“Eesh. First, Sides is willing to bet me in poker, then Ratchet fobs me off on you, and you don’t even want me. You lot sure know how to bruise a bot’s ego.” The visored mech slouched in his seat, and Prowl sighed again.
“Jazz, I’m certain you have things you’d rather do instead of- What are you doing?”
The other black and white had picked up a datapad off of the tactician’s desk and was scrolling though it serenely. “Helping you. Relax. I know my way around the Ark’s paperwork. I’m not gonna frag anything up, alright?”
“You are insufferable, you realise that, Jazz?” The doorwinged mech muttered as he gave up and went back to work. The saboteur chuckled.
“One of my charms, Prowl. One of my charms.”
= 24 =
Prowl’s workload cleared, Jazz watched the SIC rise to put away the datapads, then got up to follow the mech out the door. The Datsun stood outside his office, waiting for him.
“I don’t suppose telling you that you’ve fulfilled your end of the bargain would dissuade you from persisting.”
“Nope. So, what next?” The saboteur replied, obviously far too cheerily in the tactician’s opinion, if his sigh was anything to go on.
“I am going to recharge. What you go on to do is your own prerogative.”
The Ops mech’s visor flickered in surprise. “Huh? In the middle of the day?”
“Bluestreak has had recharge troubles lately, so I’ve arranged to be on monitor duty during the night shift. Thank you for your help, Jazz, no doubt I’ll be seeing you later.” Prowl murmured, then headed in the direction of his quarters, leaving the Porsche standing in the corridor, watching him with a thoughtful expression.
= 21 =
As Prowl had predicted, Bluestreak’s rest was interrupted again that night. What he didn’t foresee was Jazz slipping into the younger Datsun’s room with a friendly smile, looking for all intents and purposes like he’d just happened to pass by and decided to pop in for a visit.
Observing from the monitor room as the Porsche talked with Bluestreak, slowly and subtly lulling the grey mech into recharge, the tactician could only watch as Jazz gently arranged the sleeping gunner’s frame comfortably on his berth, then glanced up at the camera very few mechs realised was in Bluestreak’s quarters and waved.
He could, however, comm. the other black and white after he’d left the room.
//Thank you.//
//Hey, no problem.//
= 19 =
The next day saw, as expected, the visored mech in Prowl’s office once again. This time the SIC didn’t bother with a verbal protest, only looking pointedly at Jazz when he hacked past the tactician’s lock and sauntered in, venting air quietly when the Porsche plopped himself into a chair and picked up a datapad.
Some time later, as the reports and tactical plans were being filed away, Jazz spoke up, breaking the silence they’d fallen into. “So, Prowl. You got any plans after this?”
“The same as yesterday.”
“We’ve finished earlier than yesterday. That means you’ve got a spare hour or two.”
“You do not have to spend that time with me. Go do whatever it is you do when you’re not labouring under the delusion that I require fulfilment of your transferred deal with Sideswipe.”
“Good, ‘cos I’ve got a movie Bumblebee helped me rent and a vid screen with our names on it.” As the Ops mech bounced out the door, dragging the resisting Datsun after him, he chirped, grinning back at the black and white shooting him a deadly look. “Aw, give it a chance; I think you’ll like it. Besides, it’s time you did something for your own self, instead of just working and fretting over our merry crew.”
Before Prowl could come up with a suitable rebuttal, he’d ended up in the rec room, trapped between Bluestreak and the Ops mech. Glaring once last time at the Porsche, he settled in, accepting his fate.
He could use the time to see how many methods he could think of to deactivate Jazz anyway.
= 14 =
Monitor duty at night was quiet, as usual. Prowl kept an optic on ‘Bluestreak’s screen’, as he’d termed it in his own private thoughts, but the sniper seemed to be resting easily tonight. The tactician hoped it meant the young mech had gotten over his latest spate of nightmares, brought on by memories recalled after a recent clash with the Decepticons. The door to the room slid open, and without looking he knew who’d come in.
“Jazz.”
“Evening, Prowl.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Keeping you company.”
“I don’t need company.”
“I know.”
Of course, Jazz would choose to ignore all reason and take the chair next to him. Prowl suppressed a sigh and turned back to his duty. At least the mech wasn’t trying to distract him.
A few hours into the shift, the Datsun stood, moving to propel the Ops mech out of his seat. The bewildered saboteur flailed a little, stumbling as he was unceremoniously marched towards the door.
“Prowl?”
“You need to rest. I know you had a patrol run before you came in, and you have another tomorrow morning.”
“But you’re still-”
“I can do night duty on my own. It’s nothing new to me.”
The saboteur grabbed hold of the doorframe, delaying his ejection from the room.
“Alright, alright. I’m going, lay off.” When the SIC released his shoulder, Jazz quirked a faint smile at the chevroned mech. “Hey Prowl?”
“Yes Jazz?” The Datsun cycled air slowly, definitely feeling a headache coming on.
“Did you like the movie?”
“If I reply in the affirmative, will you leave and get some recharge?”
“Only if you mean what you say. Doesn’t have to be a ‘yes’.”
Prowl dealt the smiling mech a long look, before giving in. “Fine, I did. Now go.”
“M’gone. Night, Prowl.”
Instinct made him respond. “Good night, Jazz.”
= 10 =
Checking the duty rosters for the next day, Prowl sent the necessary memos to both Jazz and Ironhide, telling them that their exchange of duty shifts was not approved. The red mech dropped by his office later, shaking his head at the black and white Datsun. “I’ve never seen anyone work so hard to avoid a helping hand.”
“I’ve never seen anyone work so hard to carry out a needless responsibility.” Prowl replied curtly, signing off on the report the mech handed him. Both looked up when another bot entered the room, Ironhide with a commiserating grin, Prowl with an aggravated expression.
“I’ve told you repeatedly that you do not need to do this. No, wait, don’t tell me. You’re a mech of your word and you don’t back out of your deals.”
Jazz shrugged, a smile on his faceplates as he sat down.
= 8 =
“Well, that was fast.”
The Porsche seemed astonished, and the doorwinged mech murmured dryly in response. “I do manage to get work done without your help, Jazz. In the future, please do not shift your schedule around to accommodate your need to discharge what you consider your obligation. I don’t know how you’ve managed the last few days, but Ratchet will have words for you if you persist.”
“I’ll be good. No siccing the Hatchet on me. Now, looks like you’ve got free time again.”
“Joy.”
The visored mech’s grin was undimmed by the tactician’s grumble. “That’s the spirit, Prowl! What say you to a couple of rounds?”
Prowl’s refusal died before he could voice it, the black and white mech staring at the game set Jazz was holding out to him. When the Ops mech shook the item, making the pieces rattle softly in the case, the tactician glanced up at him, then sat back and gestured at his desk in capitulation.
As the Porsche set up the board in triumph, the chevroned mech asked. “Should I enquire as to how you learnt I used to play, or is that one of the things I’d rather not know?”
“Mech, your name was all but said with awe throughout the player community, it wasn’t hard. C’mon, I wanna see if I can hold my own. Or you don’t think you can beat me?”
He huffed at the challenging glint of the other black and white mech’s visor. “I am not conversant in the vocabulary of ‘trash talk’, Jazz.”
“But that’s half the fun!”
The Porsche shot back, and unable to help himself, Prowl smirked.
“Perhaps. But I prefer to let my actions speak for themselves.”
= 5 =
There would be no interruption to his night shift this time. Prowl had made sure of it by requesting that Jazz spend what time he felt he still owed the tactician recharging properly. So when the saboteur walked through the door, he felt entirely within his rights to glower at him and politely ask the other black and white just why he’d come in.
“Prowl, you realise a duty shift’s longer than five hours? I already did as you asked.”
“Then you are no longer required to spend your time with me. You are done with your twenty four hours. Or did you require a receipt?” Jazz’s visor flared at the SIC’s flat tone.
“I’m not doing this ‘cos I have to.” That serious expression from the start of this whole debacle was back. “Prowl. I’m here because you want me to be.”
The Datsun cast a disbelieving look at the visored mech, who then sighed in exasperation. “You don’t wanna admit it, and you sure tried to deny it, but you could have told me to discharge my ‘self perceived debt’ by playing tic tac toe with the crew in the rec room for all my twenty four hours and called it a morale boosting exercise. Only you didn’t. And now those hours are up and you can’t use them to get me to leave any more.”
“Then how about this? I am asking you to leave, so you can get the recharge you’ve been forgoing these past few days.” As Jazz made to protest, the doorwinged mech gently steered him back out the door. “You will need it to play against me tomorrow, if you still want to.”
The Ops mech stopped at the exit, staring up at the tactician. “It wasn’t an obligation, I swear. That deal with Sides’ was just a convenient excuse. I never expected him to lose to you in poker.”
“About that. I remember not having to deal with our resident Pit spawn for two weeks. Coincidentally around the time I was swamped with work and Bluestreak was in the med bay after his run in with Dirge on the battlefield.” The Datsun smiled faintly as the other mech looked away, and Prowl reached out to turn his helm so they were face to face once more. “Thank you. Now go recharge.”
“Wait. You’re serious about tomorrow?”
“I promise that I am, you insufferable mech.”
“One of my charms, Prowl, one of my charms.” Jazz grinned as he moved off, only to look back when Prowl called to him, quietly.
“And Jazz? I work with Smokescreen.”
The saboteur chuckled all the way back to his berth.
= EndFic =
'Verse: G1 Transformers
Characters: Prowl. Jazz.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: TF cussing.
A knock on his door had him calling out distractedly for whoever it was to enter, and when black and white plating appeared before his optics, Prowl looked up at Jazz’s wry expression with what he felt was justifiable caution.
“Is there something I can do for you, Jazz?”
“Well, it’s more what can I do for you.”
The SIC sighed tiredly, rubbing a hand over his faceplates before fixing a look onto the saboteur. “Jazz… I’m rather busy and have no time for wordplay with you right now, so please let me know if you’re being facetious.”
“And if I’m being serious, Prowl?” That visor tilted almost solemnly at him, and the tactician replied as he picked up another datapad from his desk.
“Then tell me exactly why you decided to drop into my office and make your offer. ‘Just because you felt like it’ is not an acceptable answer, and will get you a trip to the med bay and a processor scan from Ratchet.”
“Sounds fun.”
“Be sure to let Ratchet know you said that. Good bye.”
Jazz vented air quietly, then reached out to stop the Datsun from picking up the next report. “Prowl, you remember that poker tourney Sideswipe organised?”
“I do. Particularly the element that seemed to require much imbibing of high grade. The rec room was uninhabitable for the next two days, and Red Alert hasn’t stopped muttering about the security risks yet.”
The tactician raised a patient optic ridge at the Porsche, and the Ops head chuckled softly in response. “Right… You took part though.”
“I was refuelling, and ended up getting a basic overview of the rules before being pushed into Ratchet’s seat when he was called to the med bay for a minor emergency.”
“I heard you won that game.”
“Sideswipe was gratifyingly stunned. Where are you going with this?”
“Well… Ratchet and Sideswipe were the last two mechs in the competition. But you took the Doc’s place and won, so you get his winnings.”
“That’s hardly fair. Ratchet played for most of the event.”
“He thought you should get it. Said you deserved it for kicking Sideswipe’s aft, even though you were a newbie to the game and all. And I’m not about to argue with him.”
Prowl was staring at the saboteur now, a look of realisation and vague dread on his faceplates. Leaning back into his chair, he let out a long, slow sigh. “Dare I ask how you ended up as stakes in a poker game?”
“Lost a bet with Sideswipe. Said he couldn’t go for a fortnight without getting into trouble, much less a month.” Jazz shrugged, and the SIC shook his head.
“And what did you offer him if he did?”
“Twenty four hours of my time if he stayed brig and lecture free for two weeks, double that for a month.”
The Datsun paused. “I think I’d recall not seeing him for disciplinary action for a month. If anything, Optimus and Ratchet would insist on commemorating the occasion with something noisy and exaggerated.”
“That’s ‘cos he didn’t last that long. But he did clear the two weeks, so he got my twenty four hours. Only, he decided to wager that in poker and as a result, you’ve got my services for that long. So, what do you want me to do first?” The Porsche grinned at the chevroned mech, only for Prowl to turn back to his reports.
“You don’t have to do anything. Don’t worry.”
“I’m a mech of my word, Prowl. I don’t back out of my deals.” Jazz frowned at him, and the SIC gestured loosely at the Ops mech.
“You are not backing out. I am absolving you of all obligations with regards to whatever I won from Sideswipe.”
“Eesh. First, Sides is willing to bet me in poker, then Ratchet fobs me off on you, and you don’t even want me. You lot sure know how to bruise a bot’s ego.” The visored mech slouched in his seat, and Prowl sighed again.
“Jazz, I’m certain you have things you’d rather do instead of- What are you doing?”
The other black and white had picked up a datapad off of the tactician’s desk and was scrolling though it serenely. “Helping you. Relax. I know my way around the Ark’s paperwork. I’m not gonna frag anything up, alright?”
“You are insufferable, you realise that, Jazz?” The doorwinged mech muttered as he gave up and went back to work. The saboteur chuckled.
“One of my charms, Prowl. One of my charms.”
= 24 =
Prowl’s workload cleared, Jazz watched the SIC rise to put away the datapads, then got up to follow the mech out the door. The Datsun stood outside his office, waiting for him.
“I don’t suppose telling you that you’ve fulfilled your end of the bargain would dissuade you from persisting.”
“Nope. So, what next?” The saboteur replied, obviously far too cheerily in the tactician’s opinion, if his sigh was anything to go on.
“I am going to recharge. What you go on to do is your own prerogative.”
The Ops mech’s visor flickered in surprise. “Huh? In the middle of the day?”
“Bluestreak has had recharge troubles lately, so I’ve arranged to be on monitor duty during the night shift. Thank you for your help, Jazz, no doubt I’ll be seeing you later.” Prowl murmured, then headed in the direction of his quarters, leaving the Porsche standing in the corridor, watching him with a thoughtful expression.
= 21 =
As Prowl had predicted, Bluestreak’s rest was interrupted again that night. What he didn’t foresee was Jazz slipping into the younger Datsun’s room with a friendly smile, looking for all intents and purposes like he’d just happened to pass by and decided to pop in for a visit.
Observing from the monitor room as the Porsche talked with Bluestreak, slowly and subtly lulling the grey mech into recharge, the tactician could only watch as Jazz gently arranged the sleeping gunner’s frame comfortably on his berth, then glanced up at the camera very few mechs realised was in Bluestreak’s quarters and waved.
He could, however, comm. the other black and white after he’d left the room.
//Thank you.//
//Hey, no problem.//
= 19 =
The next day saw, as expected, the visored mech in Prowl’s office once again. This time the SIC didn’t bother with a verbal protest, only looking pointedly at Jazz when he hacked past the tactician’s lock and sauntered in, venting air quietly when the Porsche plopped himself into a chair and picked up a datapad.
Some time later, as the reports and tactical plans were being filed away, Jazz spoke up, breaking the silence they’d fallen into. “So, Prowl. You got any plans after this?”
“The same as yesterday.”
“We’ve finished earlier than yesterday. That means you’ve got a spare hour or two.”
“You do not have to spend that time with me. Go do whatever it is you do when you’re not labouring under the delusion that I require fulfilment of your transferred deal with Sideswipe.”
“Good, ‘cos I’ve got a movie Bumblebee helped me rent and a vid screen with our names on it.” As the Ops mech bounced out the door, dragging the resisting Datsun after him, he chirped, grinning back at the black and white shooting him a deadly look. “Aw, give it a chance; I think you’ll like it. Besides, it’s time you did something for your own self, instead of just working and fretting over our merry crew.”
Before Prowl could come up with a suitable rebuttal, he’d ended up in the rec room, trapped between Bluestreak and the Ops mech. Glaring once last time at the Porsche, he settled in, accepting his fate.
He could use the time to see how many methods he could think of to deactivate Jazz anyway.
= 14 =
Monitor duty at night was quiet, as usual. Prowl kept an optic on ‘Bluestreak’s screen’, as he’d termed it in his own private thoughts, but the sniper seemed to be resting easily tonight. The tactician hoped it meant the young mech had gotten over his latest spate of nightmares, brought on by memories recalled after a recent clash with the Decepticons. The door to the room slid open, and without looking he knew who’d come in.
“Jazz.”
“Evening, Prowl.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Keeping you company.”
“I don’t need company.”
“I know.”
Of course, Jazz would choose to ignore all reason and take the chair next to him. Prowl suppressed a sigh and turned back to his duty. At least the mech wasn’t trying to distract him.
A few hours into the shift, the Datsun stood, moving to propel the Ops mech out of his seat. The bewildered saboteur flailed a little, stumbling as he was unceremoniously marched towards the door.
“Prowl?”
“You need to rest. I know you had a patrol run before you came in, and you have another tomorrow morning.”
“But you’re still-”
“I can do night duty on my own. It’s nothing new to me.”
The saboteur grabbed hold of the doorframe, delaying his ejection from the room.
“Alright, alright. I’m going, lay off.” When the SIC released his shoulder, Jazz quirked a faint smile at the chevroned mech. “Hey Prowl?”
“Yes Jazz?” The Datsun cycled air slowly, definitely feeling a headache coming on.
“Did you like the movie?”
“If I reply in the affirmative, will you leave and get some recharge?”
“Only if you mean what you say. Doesn’t have to be a ‘yes’.”
Prowl dealt the smiling mech a long look, before giving in. “Fine, I did. Now go.”
“M’gone. Night, Prowl.”
Instinct made him respond. “Good night, Jazz.”
= 10 =
Checking the duty rosters for the next day, Prowl sent the necessary memos to both Jazz and Ironhide, telling them that their exchange of duty shifts was not approved. The red mech dropped by his office later, shaking his head at the black and white Datsun. “I’ve never seen anyone work so hard to avoid a helping hand.”
“I’ve never seen anyone work so hard to carry out a needless responsibility.” Prowl replied curtly, signing off on the report the mech handed him. Both looked up when another bot entered the room, Ironhide with a commiserating grin, Prowl with an aggravated expression.
“I’ve told you repeatedly that you do not need to do this. No, wait, don’t tell me. You’re a mech of your word and you don’t back out of your deals.”
Jazz shrugged, a smile on his faceplates as he sat down.
= 8 =
“Well, that was fast.”
The Porsche seemed astonished, and the doorwinged mech murmured dryly in response. “I do manage to get work done without your help, Jazz. In the future, please do not shift your schedule around to accommodate your need to discharge what you consider your obligation. I don’t know how you’ve managed the last few days, but Ratchet will have words for you if you persist.”
“I’ll be good. No siccing the Hatchet on me. Now, looks like you’ve got free time again.”
“Joy.”
The visored mech’s grin was undimmed by the tactician’s grumble. “That’s the spirit, Prowl! What say you to a couple of rounds?”
Prowl’s refusal died before he could voice it, the black and white mech staring at the game set Jazz was holding out to him. When the Ops mech shook the item, making the pieces rattle softly in the case, the tactician glanced up at him, then sat back and gestured at his desk in capitulation.
As the Porsche set up the board in triumph, the chevroned mech asked. “Should I enquire as to how you learnt I used to play, or is that one of the things I’d rather not know?”
“Mech, your name was all but said with awe throughout the player community, it wasn’t hard. C’mon, I wanna see if I can hold my own. Or you don’t think you can beat me?”
He huffed at the challenging glint of the other black and white mech’s visor. “I am not conversant in the vocabulary of ‘trash talk’, Jazz.”
“But that’s half the fun!”
The Porsche shot back, and unable to help himself, Prowl smirked.
“Perhaps. But I prefer to let my actions speak for themselves.”
= 5 =
There would be no interruption to his night shift this time. Prowl had made sure of it by requesting that Jazz spend what time he felt he still owed the tactician recharging properly. So when the saboteur walked through the door, he felt entirely within his rights to glower at him and politely ask the other black and white just why he’d come in.
“Prowl, you realise a duty shift’s longer than five hours? I already did as you asked.”
“Then you are no longer required to spend your time with me. You are done with your twenty four hours. Or did you require a receipt?” Jazz’s visor flared at the SIC’s flat tone.
“I’m not doing this ‘cos I have to.” That serious expression from the start of this whole debacle was back. “Prowl. I’m here because you want me to be.”
The Datsun cast a disbelieving look at the visored mech, who then sighed in exasperation. “You don’t wanna admit it, and you sure tried to deny it, but you could have told me to discharge my ‘self perceived debt’ by playing tic tac toe with the crew in the rec room for all my twenty four hours and called it a morale boosting exercise. Only you didn’t. And now those hours are up and you can’t use them to get me to leave any more.”
“Then how about this? I am asking you to leave, so you can get the recharge you’ve been forgoing these past few days.” As Jazz made to protest, the doorwinged mech gently steered him back out the door. “You will need it to play against me tomorrow, if you still want to.”
The Ops mech stopped at the exit, staring up at the tactician. “It wasn’t an obligation, I swear. That deal with Sides’ was just a convenient excuse. I never expected him to lose to you in poker.”
“About that. I remember not having to deal with our resident Pit spawn for two weeks. Coincidentally around the time I was swamped with work and Bluestreak was in the med bay after his run in with Dirge on the battlefield.” The Datsun smiled faintly as the other mech looked away, and Prowl reached out to turn his helm so they were face to face once more. “Thank you. Now go recharge.”
“Wait. You’re serious about tomorrow?”
“I promise that I am, you insufferable mech.”
“One of my charms, Prowl, one of my charms.” Jazz grinned as he moved off, only to look back when Prowl called to him, quietly.
“And Jazz? I work with Smokescreen.”
The saboteur chuckled all the way back to his berth.
= EndFic =
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-07 06:50 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-08 01:04 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-07 07:09 pm (UTC)Good job! Thanks!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-08 01:05 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-07 07:22 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-08 01:05 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-07 07:40 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-08 01:05 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-08 01:06 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-07 09:31 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-08 01:06 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-08 12:42 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-08 01:07 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-08 02:54 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-08 10:29 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-08 02:40 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-08 10:28 am (UTC)*has internet again!* *goes to read all the stuff you've written in the meantime*
Date: 2009-10-08 01:24 pm (UTC)Welcome back ^_^
Date: 2009-10-10 09:51 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-08 03:41 pm (UTC)*dies*
“And Jazz? I work with Smokescreen.”
*dies again* So very much win. Prowl gets all the best lines. XP
(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-10 09:54 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-08 04:12 pm (UTC)Now for my own sleep...
yoake-mae
(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-10 09:54 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-10 08:21 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-10 09:55 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-20 03:36 am (UTC)Prowl's last line FTW! \o/
(no subject)
Date: 2009-10-20 02:39 pm (UTC)