He grimaced again at that, but the implicit promise that talking about that could wait a bit was enough to make some of the tension in Cliffjumper's frame bleed out. Sure, they couldn't postpone all of the (other) difficult topics to right before they left or something, but at least that one shouldn't be an issue, right?
"Well, that and we are in a slaggin' war," Cliffjumper couldn't help but comment, rolling his optics. Mirage might never have been too enthusiastic about it, but he'd done his part, and especially on Earth he'd certainly had to participate in full-on battlefield combat.
"Not that I know much 'bout fox huntin', but I guess we..." had to pause there, forcing his field to still over the flustered wiggle it wanted to do when he said 'we'. There was no we, except for this... this pretend thing, so that his stupid fragging frame would react like that...
Somewhere, there was that sick twist inside, and Cliffjumper pushed it away and shook his helm.
"Uh, I mean, could've been doin'... something, like it? We've got a lot of space 'round the Ark, after all." Shrugging, Cliffjumper frowned. He'd never understood why fox hunting would be one of the things the nobles kept secret.
It wasn't the only thing, of course, and there were probably a lot most people didn't even know the nobles kept very quiet about their traditions and whatever else slag, but you'd have to have been newly sparked to not know about nobles and turbofox hunting.
Not that anyone, and of course not Cliffjumper either, knew more than that. He wasn't even sure if he should feel annoyed about it, or if he should think it was terrible... so he usually settled on his usual vague disdain over the nobles.
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branchandroot
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Date: 2014-12-31 03:11 pm (UTC)"Well, that and we are in a slaggin' war," Cliffjumper couldn't help but comment, rolling his optics. Mirage might never have been too enthusiastic about it, but he'd done his part, and especially on Earth he'd certainly had to participate in full-on battlefield combat.
"Not that I know much 'bout fox huntin', but I guess we..." had to pause there, forcing his field to still over the flustered wiggle it wanted to do when he said 'we'. There was no we, except for this... this pretend thing, so that his stupid fragging frame would react like that...
Somewhere, there was that sick twist inside, and Cliffjumper pushed it away and shook his helm.
"Uh, I mean, could've been doin'... something, like it? We've got a lot of space 'round the Ark, after all." Shrugging, Cliffjumper frowned. He'd never understood why fox hunting would be one of the things the nobles kept secret.
It wasn't the only thing, of course, and there were probably a lot most people didn't even know the nobles kept very quiet about their traditions and whatever else slag, but you'd have to have been newly sparked to not know about nobles and turbofox hunting.
Not that anyone, and of course not Cliffjumper either, knew more than that. He wasn't even sure if he should feel annoyed about it, or if he should think it was terrible... so he usually settled on his usual vague disdain over the nobles.