✨ XIMILIA TOWN HALL MEETING ✨ ( video/audio/action )

[farr]

[ some morning in the middle of the week, during their return to the station, an invitation will be taped on the door of every orber. though the calligraphy would suggest this must have been typed on a computer and printer, each invitation is actually very carefully hand-written and reads as follows: ]

[ the idea is for everyone to meet in the mess hall at the intended time, but if some choose not to attend, the meeting can still be accessed by the earpieces, allowing all orbers to watch or listen in and contribute however they wish, no matter where they are.

however, for those who do decide to attend, the mess hall features a full display of bagels and donuts, along with plenty of fresh coffee, all to help everyone wake up and feel refreshed for the meeting that's about to take place.

a makeshift little stage, arranged by stacking together a few metal boxes is at the center of the room, atop of it being the one and only rita farr herself, with a bright optimistic smile. when she sees enough people present and settled, she speaks up, loud and clear: ]

Hello, everyone! Welcome to our first Annual — or monthly, or however we decide to do it — Town Hall meeting! Thank you all for coming and please enjoy the food to your heart's content. For those who don't know me, I'm Rita Farr. Now— though my name does appear on the invitation, this is hardly about me. This is about all of us.

After our ... last mission, it became quite clear that our group could use a bit of improvement with how we approach our next missions moving forward. And I thought the best way to plan for that is to allow all of us an opportunity to discuss how we all feel about what we've done well and what we could do better. After all, everyone deserves a say in this, right?

[ she points behind her where a giant board is on display on an easel, once again, hand-written with careful and precise calligraphy in giant letters: ]


Here, I've written some sample questions we can all try to offer answers to, but the floor will also be open for any other questions and suggestions that anyone might have. Remember, there are no wrong answers! We're all here for an open forum discussion. But before that!

[ she reaches over to the board, pulling it off to reveal another one behind it. this one reads as follows: ]


Please consider the "Keys to Success", not only on our missions, but as we talk together in this room right now. We'll go ahead and take turns either stepping up here on the stage or speaking out from wherever you are. There are no microphones but the earpieces should get your voices out to everyone. Now, who would like to start?


( this post is open to all! the idea is that everyone is taking turns in each thread to speak out to the entire group (whether from within the room or from elsewhere), but thread-jacking and hopping around for discussion is the key here! feel free to run wild with ic suggestions or questions regarding mission layouts or planning or whatever floats your boat (ic complaining/protest is always an option too). though rita is organizing it, it's open to whatever people are inclined to discuss. )

Comments

[finials]

[ he gives him a flat look at the possessive gesture with the bottle, but frowns as he turns it back on the rest of the meeting going on. ] Waste of my fragging time, [ he decides, and considers briefly just shutting his avatar back down and getting back to work, but.. well. he's here now.

he sits back, folding his arms. ] I've never met a human that loves to hear himself talk more than Newton. [ he doesn't spend much time around him--or anyone, really--but it's hard to miss it.

he gestures with his thumb to minimus, who looks nearly beatific. ] He's having the time of his life, isn't he?

[ruinously]

[ look you can't just sit down and mess with a mans liquor okay ]

Neither have I. [ And that's saying something, honestly. He's met a couple talkers in his life; Crowley loved to hear himself talk.

Then again, he wasn't technically a man. ]

Uh--

[ He leans, glancing over, smile flickering, just a fraction. ]

Looks like it. Friend of yours?

[finials]

In a manner of speaking, [ he agrees with a heaved sigh. ] An.. alternate of a friend. The rest of them are all from the same reality. [ he makes a vague gesture to take in the other cybertronians present, glance lingering briefly over drift.

a moment later, it turns back to dean, brows arching over his eyes. ]

It's very annoying.

[ruinously]

Oh, I gotcha.

[ Realization - realisations - dawn over his features, and he nods. Different iterations, different timelines, universes. That, he gets. Been there done that, left without a I survived Croatoan! t-shirt. No thanks. ]

So you're a Cybertronian, too. [ see he's down with the lingo. he watched the cartoons. ]

Which one are you?

[finials]

[ he clicks his tongue, sitting back again and crossing his thighs, arms folding. ]

Ratchet. I'm a doctor, I spend most of my time in the infirmary. [ he gives him an arch sideways glance. ] Which means it's my job to be concerned about your alcohol intake, so don't give me attitude if I ask.

[ or at least be prepared to get attitude back. he's been doing this for over four-million years and there's nothing he wouldn't do for his patients, but he'll also absolutely tell someone if they're being an idiot.

he jerks his chin toward dean's book. ] Do you take notes at all the meetings?

[ruinously]

Oh, Ratchet, you turn into what -- the ambulance?

[ He's familiar with Bayformers but brain immediately shoots straight to G1. ]

I've been drinking since I was 8, man. I'll be alright. [ His tone is wry, and he lets his chin rest on his hand, looking down at his journal. ]

The ones I go to, yeah. Stuff on missions, too. Whatever I think is important.

[finials]

Yes, that's very healthy, [ he shoots back, briefly feeling every one of his years. humans live such short, fragile lives, and he's not certain he'll ever understand their rush to cut those lives shorter.

still, he lets it go for now. they're seated in a public place with people everywhere, not in a private medical consultation, and despite his desire to do so, he can't make this kid--dean, he thinks?--do anything he doesn't want to do. including take care of himself. unfortunately.

instead, he shifts, leaning in just enough to see the scrawl of dean's writing before straightening up again. it's not his business what it actually says, after all. ] It's a good habit to have.

[ruinously]

[ Dean shrugs. It's ridiculously unhealthy, but it's a coping mechanism - a controlled one, a managed one. He is who he is. ]

My dad got me on it. He used to journal, would write everything down he came across. How to kill it, trap it, banish it. All the above. Stuff I'd never even heard of was in his journal.

[ He actually has his fathers journal with him, which is...great, but he'd rather have the one he'd started. Shame it hadn't been in his stupid duffle instead of jammed under the Impala's passenger seat. ]

I've got his here, but I wish I had the one I started. Just cause it was mine. [ And not full of his asshole fathers scribbles. ]