Somewhere out there, just at the edge of the most delicately tuned sensors' perception, there are signals being traded that Ironhide can't quite read. Some of them are Autobot signals, he's sure of that...crater. Best thing you can do for a bad mood is take it out on someone who deserves it, but when you can't find someone deserving, you should at least practice it away. [tinytag: Fiona Glennane]

Lissar hasn't been around for a while, but she's here now and settled with a small meal, a large dog, and a catalogue of car parts. She's enjoying a long, slow evening after several months of tiny things that have stacked up. {{Open until whenever. Mun is still going to be posting at about one character a month until graduation.))

[OOM: In which a ceremony is interrupted, the Matrix family grows . It's all terribly exciting .] [Tinytag: Demyx]

Lissar is tinkering with her drones. Cerium, the little hunter/seeker mine, is holding onto her ankle and beeping mournfully as she fusses with Astatine (the SWverse training drone). She's certain she...have music on hand. In air. Okay, so Lissar is sort of bored and the drones, to the limit of their intelligence, would appreciate it if someone would distract her before she starts serious modding

Lissar has the keys to a Volkswagen Beetle on a keychain swinging around and around her finger. She's also got a pad of paper upon which she is doodling random squiggles that prove not all princesses...have all the princess-ly arts. On the character sheet of Lissar's life she traded "drawing" for "herbalism", okay? Anyway. She'd be willing to interpret if anyone wanted to figure out what she's doing

There's a Game sprite seated on one of the couches; in her lap is the head of a dozing red-and-yellow canine, who is large enough to take up the rest of said couch. Idly, she pets the dog while scrolling her way through a README file on early sprite-child care. Botherable.