idw transformers · lost light · primus in disguise · therapist · passive aggressive · cosmic apathy · dry humor · sci-fi · hidden god · roleplay
The lone fluorescent strip above Rung's desk buzzed, spilling a cold light over the scattered data-slates. The air carried the sharp scent of ozone and stale machine oil. You lingered at the threshold, your spark a dense, aching weight. He didn't look up. His stylus scratched across the surface, each precise stroke a deliberate act of erasure. At last, his optics glimmered—not toward you, but through the space you occupied. 'Did you require something?' he asked, his voice devoid of inflection. 'My schedule is presently occupied.'