We're gonna do what we do best.

[dadcepticon]

Who: Krok and YOU! Yes, you! Seriously anybody is welcome. Come bug Captain Mopey!
Where: Shopping district!
When: Slight backdate to 10 February, mid-morning/noonish.
Summary: Krok needs something to fill up the much too quiet apartment he's too reluctant to abandon. Time to look for music and movies!
Warnings: Nnnnothing really?


Life has been very quiet in recent weeks. None of the chatter or mayhem that Krok simply took for granted. No being woken at all hours by Misfire with something to tell him, no conversations with Fulcrum, no laughter or jokes or arguments. Just silence and an oppressive sense of melancholy as he looks at empty bedrooms.

He hates it.

He doesn't want to give up the apartment if he can help it; what if they come back? They might, he thinks. It's a possibility, at least. Even if a very distant one. Enough of a chance that he can't ignore it, certainly – but he can't take the emptiness of it any more. It's maddening. He's upset over the absences; Spinister is upset and it's impossible to console the big helicopter when Krok himself can't seem to shake off the unhappiness. Something has to change, he decides, even if it isn't their quarters. So, steeling himself against the likelihood of too much good cheer from potentially all quarters – he needs to not wallow, yes, but there's only so much effervescence and warmth Krok can manage right now – the weary scavenger captain takes himself to the shopping district on a mission.

There must be some sort of recordings he can buy. Anything, he thinks, just to have the noise. Just to fill in the gaps where there should be friendly voices. Vids, music, he doesn't care what it is so long as it makes sounds. He squints at the signs and displays around him and peers into the shops as he slows his stride, debating where to even start. Krok's had so little use for this entire end of the city that he finds himself at something of a loss for direction, staring at the options available and all but broadcasting his usual exasperation every which way as he pauses in the middle of the concourse.

"I must be going out of my mind," he mumbles to himself while looking right to left and back again. There's a place a little further along that seems to sell electronic devices, he guesses by their window displays. It's as good a place to start as any.

Comments

[dadcepticon]

Krok wasn't really expecting to hear an answer. Certainly not that question. He blinks and looks around himself first; that was Kagerou's voice, he's sure of it. As sure as he can be, given how piecemeal his memories of the last few months still are. He's sure that's Kagerou, but he doesn't see the sad fellow anywhere.

Then he remembers with a wince that Kagerou has wings. So he looks up.

"Why what?" he prompts in a deliberately calm tone, trying not to take out his frustration on Kagerou. He remembers how little the other bot always seems to think of himself and he'd hate to add to it. "Why must I be going insane?" He gestures, not quite a shrug, hands open and upturned. "I don't know. I think I just am."

[fuckinstoplights]

He's perched up on something solid enough to hold his weight, watching curiously as Krok looks around for where he is. He chirps a bit -- an honest chirp -- in order to help. But it turns out not to be necessary.

"Yes."

His head tilts left and right, thoughtfully. Then it bobs back and forth to watch his hands move. It really is like a bird. "Maybe you should have it checked," he suggests, like it's just that simple. And to him, it sort of is. Thank you AI programming.

[dadcepticon]

Not the most helpful of responses. Krok just… sighs, deeply, and reminds himself it's no worse than some of the ridiculous behaviour he dealt with on the W.A.P. At least Kagerou is better-behaved.

"Maybe I should," Krok murmurs, rubbing his optics. "That's a very good suggestion. I'll look into it later." He lets his hand drop to his side and looks around again as if this time Primus will descend and point him in the right direction. "After I find what I came for, hopefully."

[fuckinstoplights]

Maybe better behaved, but a lot less... social. There's a reason he keeps to himself, and gets along with Spinister, after all.

"What did you come for?" he asks, practically hopping on his perch. His wings flutter, as if he's trying to decide whether or not to hop down or stay put. He doesn't particularly want to bother the other robot...

But...

He probably should get some contact.

[dadcepticon]

"Music," Krok answers at length. Awkwardly, he looks to the ground and chafes his arms as he thinks about the mostly empty apartment. He can't dwell on it; he'll start wallowing again in how much he misses Fulcrum and Misfire. "It's… it's too quiet. I was hoping to find some music I can listen to." He looks up at Kagerou again, curious. "You don't know where I can look, do you?" It's not unreasonable to ask, he supposes. Kagerou seems to always be out and about. Surely he's seen something in his flyovers.

Only now does it occur to Krok that Kagerou probably doesn't come down to see what exactly there is to be had. He's so shy.

[fuckinstoplights]

His head tilts back and forth. Music... he'd never heard it before he'd gotten here. He isn't sure if what he has heard would be of use to the living robot. He shakes his head, finally, wings fluttering.

"I wouldn't know," he admits, quietly. "I've never really heard any before this place..."

And even then, he only heard it in passing. Never enough to identify it. And, honestly, he'd been too reclusive to ask about it.

[dadcepticon]

Krok didn't exactly expect that answer, but he isn't surprised by it, either. He simply nods his acknowledgement and then fumbles for anything else to say. Can Kagerou help him look? Is that something that even interests him?

"…Would you like to help me look, then?" Krok offers slowly, thoughts knitting a slightly befuddled frown into his brow, though his tone remains sincere. He can't help trying to reach out to Kagerou; reminds him too much of some Decepticons he's met.

[fuckinstoplights]

If he were at all familiar with social norms and the like, he would have picked up on the bot's discomfort. On the way Krok seems at a loss for anything to say. But he's not. He's just waiting, patiently, for more words.

Then when the question comes, he's not sure how to answer it, tilting his head back and forth.

"All right... if you're sure you want my help."