"You want me to haul *what*?" Long Haul glared at Scavenger and his large collection of broken machinery. There weren't many people Long Haul could intimidate, but usually Scavenger was on that very short list. Which was a mercy, or he'd always be hauling junk around.
Scavenger wasn't particularly intimidated today. He stood his ground and gave Long Haul his best cutely plaintive expression. Which, you would think, Long Haul would be immune to after five million years. "It's for First Aid! He likes fixing them. Pleeeeeeeease, Long Haul! Help me carry! You want to make him happy too, right?"
Long Haul crossed his arms at him. The shovel had a point, but it wasn't as though he was going to be giving in anytime soon. "Doesn't he have enough junk of his own to fix without hauling it all the way from Charr?"
Scavenger's tail drooped. "It's not junk, Long Haul. First Aid--appreciates it." And appreciates me, was the unspoken implication. Long Haul was kind of envious: he could only dream of having Scavenger's passive-aggressive pouting skills. He'd tried, but when it was him the others just told him to stop his belly-aching already.
Well. First Aid never did. First Aid had investigated the aches and pains in his shovel and wheels and back struts that the others had long sense determined were entirely imaginary, and even when he didn't find anything physically wrong with him, he'd somehow made Long Haul feel so much better that he'd spent all afternoon hauling patients around and enjoyed it.
So, yes, he was definitely going to haul First Aid whatever Scavenger wanted him to haul. He allowed himself a long-suffering sigh--an mode of expression which was, as far as Long Haul was concerned, the best thing the humans ever invented--and transformed. "Pile 'em on."
"Thank you, Long Haul!" Scavenger pet Long Haul affectionately on the cab and then started carefully loading him with...Long Haul didn't even want to know what, but hopefully none of it was liquid, fragile, perishable, or hazardous. Or explosive. Scavenger had that advantage over his other teammates: his collections generally weren't dangerous on purpose.
"You do know, Scavenger," Long Haul said, not letting himself look entirely on the bright side, "He's not like Grapple and Hoist. He already has brothers, and he's not going to leave them for us."
Scavenger stopped loading for a second. "Well, then. Clearly we'll just have to recruit all of them. Which do you want to go for?"
Long Haul stared at Scavenger blankly, as much as a dump truck could stare blankly. "Just don't make me carry them all home, Scrounge."
Scavenger gave a delighted laugh and rubbed his shovel against the side of Long Haul's bed. "'Course not, Warrior. Now do you think I can fit on another damaged radio?"
Re: :D
Scavenger wasn't particularly intimidated today. He stood his ground and gave Long Haul his best cutely plaintive expression. Which, you would think, Long Haul would be immune to after five million years. "It's for First Aid! He likes fixing them. Pleeeeeeeease, Long Haul! Help me carry! You want to make him happy too, right?"
Long Haul crossed his arms at him. The shovel had a point, but it wasn't as though he was going to be giving in anytime soon. "Doesn't he have enough junk of his own to fix without hauling it all the way from Charr?"
Scavenger's tail drooped. "It's not junk, Long Haul. First Aid--appreciates it." And appreciates me, was the unspoken implication. Long Haul was kind of envious: he could only dream of having Scavenger's passive-aggressive pouting skills. He'd tried, but when it was him the others just told him to stop his belly-aching already.
Well. First Aid never did. First Aid had investigated the aches and pains in his shovel and wheels and back struts that the others had long sense determined were entirely imaginary, and even when he didn't find anything physically wrong with him, he'd somehow made Long Haul feel so much better that he'd spent all afternoon hauling patients around and enjoyed it.
So, yes, he was definitely going to haul First Aid whatever Scavenger wanted him to haul. He allowed himself a long-suffering sigh--an mode of expression which was, as far as Long Haul was concerned, the best thing the humans ever invented--and transformed. "Pile 'em on."
"Thank you, Long Haul!" Scavenger pet Long Haul affectionately on the cab and then started carefully loading him with...Long Haul didn't even want to know what, but hopefully none of it was liquid, fragile, perishable, or hazardous. Or explosive. Scavenger had that advantage over his other teammates: his collections generally weren't dangerous on purpose.
"You do know, Scavenger," Long Haul said, not letting himself look entirely on the bright side, "He's not like Grapple and Hoist. He already has brothers, and he's not going to leave them for us."
Scavenger stopped loading for a second. "Well, then. Clearly we'll just have to recruit all of them. Which do you want to go for?"
Long Haul stared at Scavenger blankly, as much as a dump truck could stare blankly. "Just don't make me carry them all home, Scrounge."
Scavenger gave a delighted laugh and rubbed his shovel against the side of Long Haul's bed. "'Course not, Warrior. Now do you think I can fit on another damaged radio?"