Post by Nines on Jan 26, 2020 3:14:19 GMT
(Nines , @04515 )
Rubbing the last of his medical equipment clean Nines managed a a lofty exhale. His mouthguard shuddered as he reclined into a chair to release a yawn. Stretching his arms as he sat back steeply, his optics became a slit of light as his lids narrowed. Releasing his breath the mech shifted upright allowing his elbows to lean upon his knees. Wednesdays. Nines reviewed the time of week drearily. Turning his helm to the entry way, he shook his helm.
Goodness this place is quiet. He mused, I suppose when someone isn’t screaming or dying then that’d be the case. He chuckled lightly. He rotated his chair to a monitor, igniting a screen. Instantly he tacked away the logs of the day, which supplies needed to be restocked, and made note of anything that required squaring away. He scrolled through the countless files regarding the small repairs and oil changes he’d conducted throughout the day on equipment and cybertronian alike.
Humming a tune Nines appreciated the serenity of his workstation. The time where a constant stream of dying mechs and femmes flooded his berths was over for the time being. It’s paused to say the least. Now all we’re worrying about is trafficking. Nines continued his chores, Which will result in more conflict. Nines canted his helm to the side. His mind drifted to his old lab. I do wonder if there are psychopaths out there insane enough to test how malleable humans are. I know I would’ve a few hundred millennia ago. He rested in his seat again. As he dismissed unsavory speculation, he found his optics beginning to shutter off—-
Rubbing the last of his medical equipment clean Nines managed a a lofty exhale. His mouthguard shuddered as he reclined into a chair to release a yawn. Stretching his arms as he sat back steeply, his optics became a slit of light as his lids narrowed. Releasing his breath the mech shifted upright allowing his elbows to lean upon his knees. Wednesdays. Nines reviewed the time of week drearily. Turning his helm to the entry way, he shook his helm.
Goodness this place is quiet. He mused, I suppose when someone isn’t screaming or dying then that’d be the case. He chuckled lightly. He rotated his chair to a monitor, igniting a screen. Instantly he tacked away the logs of the day, which supplies needed to be restocked, and made note of anything that required squaring away. He scrolled through the countless files regarding the small repairs and oil changes he’d conducted throughout the day on equipment and cybertronian alike.
Humming a tune Nines appreciated the serenity of his workstation. The time where a constant stream of dying mechs and femmes flooded his berths was over for the time being. It’s paused to say the least. Now all we’re worrying about is trafficking. Nines continued his chores, Which will result in more conflict. Nines canted his helm to the side. His mind drifted to his old lab. I do wonder if there are psychopaths out there insane enough to test how malleable humans are. I know I would’ve a few hundred millennia ago. He rested in his seat again. As he dismissed unsavory speculation, he found his optics beginning to shutter off—-