Will Byers

Breakdown just gave a little shrug. "That wasn't something that was planned or anticipated from what I heard. We opened a ground bridge someplace, and the Autobots opened one right on top of ours. Something about that sent those who went through into some kind of shadow-mirror world or something, this place but not. I think I heard it was the Autobots who figured it out when a couple of their--uh..." He was about to say 'pets', but a pause to really consider who he's talking to makes him decide to not use such a word. "Human friends got trapped there."

It's Will's question that pulls Breakdown's focus back to the present issue. "I dunno, Runt. Sounds like you need a medic, but I only know medical stuff for my own kind. Point me at this monster and I'd be happy to smash it to pulp, but with you back here I don't know that I can help you with anything." He looks at Sam. "If either of us can do anything, it'll be her." He nods at Sam, then looks back to Will. "But that's for her to say. I know only some of what she can do."

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“I only know some of what I can do.” Sam shot Breakdown a sidelong look, shrugging herself and apologetic as she answered Will. “I'm still figuring things out, getting a feel for more and more... and working with pretty minimal information, so far as you go. I don't know what I can do for you. Yet.”

Releasing Will's arm, Sam shifted enough to sit back. “I'll... ask around a bit. I've heard a few things about otherspaces, but the ones I've heard about don't really mirror here. What we can do, I dunno, but we'll try to help.” It may have been more-or-less established already, but it couldn't hurt the kid to hear it.

Leaning back to better see Breakdown, Sam couldn't help but think gods' blood, zombiebots, and now otherspace shit; I should shout collin da bin. “Asking around, did the Autobots get their people back? And what's the scoop on your CO?”

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Will nods quickly, hard, even though his shoulders droop in disappointment and his chest gets tighter. He'd hoped it would be that easy, that they could just...get whatever is in him, in his head or his blood or his bones, out and everything would go back to normal. "Okay. Okay." His voice definitely isn't wavering, shut up.

Clearing his throat, Will looks up at Breakdown, just as curious. "Was it cold there? Did he tell you?"

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Breakdown wished he could give the boy a better answer than this, but it was all he could give. "I dunno. I never heard directly from him what happened, I just heard about it from some of the other troops. Honestly, though, it takes some pretty cold temperatures for us to really take notice so he may not have commented on it at all if it wasn't extreme."

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“Sorry, Will. I know it's not what you wanted to hear... but whatever I hear, I'll be in touch.” Sam offered the kid a small, crooked smile. Though it stung to see Will so visibly crushed, the smile felt natural enough, since she had something (hopefully) heartening to say. “Got a plan, and if it doesn't pan out, I got other options.”

Plan B wasn't exactly easy---bottling a message took time and some effort---but it was definitely doable.

“How cold? And, c'mon name names. Don't leave me hanging.”

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Will nods quickly, because he knows they're trying. That's more than a lot of the doctors have even done. So he smiles weakly and clears his throat. "Was your friend okay? After he came back?"

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"Uh...well, Arctic cold. I mean, if we know we're going into a cold place we can do stuff to prepare, but the prep takes time and for missions we don't usually get a chance. Extreme cold can freeze our hydraulics."

He looks at Will again, a wry smirk on his face. "I don't know that anyone would describe Starscream as 'okay', or as a friend. But he seems as much like himself as I've ever heard." Treacherous, treasonous, egotistical, and an irredeemable aft.

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At 'Arctic cold,' Sam indulged in an amused little chuff. “So if I want an answer to 'Inuvik, be there or be square,' it oughtta be in August? Got it. God, but I'm glad frostbite isn't an issue anymore.” It might've been a frivolous turn for the conversation to take, but that wasn't really a bad thing---Will was smiling, at least a little, Breaking was smirking, and she was still very interested in learning whatever she could about Cybertronians.

Though the big 'Con was speaking to Will, Sam couldn't quite keep from smirking herself at hearing Starscream's name. She learned over to Will, and in a low, conspiratorial tone, remarked, “That's ten, now.”

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"Frostbite's when you lose your toes, right?" Will's seen TV! He knows things! Sort of. And then he scrunches his nose in amusement at Sam. "That's more than I'd figured. How long have you been keeping track?"

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He smirks at Sam. "Heh, and you know only a fraction of the Cons hanging out here. I'll just leave it at that."

Well, with it established that he can't currently help the kid, he'll shift his hand back to the ground so the two can get back to their own feet.

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“If it's awful. The not-awful frostbite--so, like, superficial frostbite--is just painful or annoying or both. I only ever had it once, here.” Sam raised both hands to her face, tapping high up on her cheekbones. Being adorable, Will's scrunched nose got her grinning as she answered, “Since I found Breakdown, so three years.”

She climbed off of his huge hand a little awkwardly, but easily enough, and immediately turned to offer Will her her own so he'd have an easier time, despite being so small. “Doesn't matter. What matters is this: I'll know 'em if I see 'em. Doesn't mean I don't want to know more, but I can take the consolation prize. I'll just bitch a bit about it.” The last remark was, again, aimed at Will, though this time the words were in a sort of stage-whisper.

“High time I got you back to your mom. Breakdown, I'll try to be quick. Ish.”

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"Three whole years?" For an eighth-grader, this is forever. But that makes Will a little more encouraged, standing up and carefully taking Sam's hand, his own too cold. Poor circulation, maybe? Still, he looks woeful about having to leave Breakdown behind, letting out a soft sigh.

"Okay. Is she awake? Can you tell?

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Breakdown turned his gaze towards the building again. If they watch closely, they'll be able to see things moving behind that single yellow plane of glass. "She's not really moving, so I'll assume she's still sleeping and so hasn't realized you've wandered away to chat with strangers."

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"Yeah. He's gonna be stuck with me for like, the next seventy or so." By now, the big mech was probably resigned to his fate, but far be it from Sam to let him go without a bit of flak now and again---and anyway, he gave as good as he got. "And, here--!"

Suspecting Will wouldn't've appreciated being lowered by both armpits (again, being made to feel small was the last thing he needed) Sam simply steadied him until he had both feet back on the blacktop. She moved her hand to his back after that, urging the boy along as patiently as she could. She understood that walking away from a real live alien robot when you could ask questions was probably one of the most difficult things a twelve-year-old kid could do, but their conversation had already gone on a little too long.

If we're hooped, we're hooped. Here's hoping it's not another shitshow. Sighing herself, Sam raised her free hand briefly, without looking back.

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Awwww, bye enormous robot friend. Will waves over his shoulder, a little half-heartedly, then lets out a soft sigh that turns into a hoarse, barking sort of cough. "Think anyone else will see him?" They...are sort of in a public place...

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Breakdown watched them go a moment before folding back down into his alt mode. He found himself truly hoping that Sam could find a way to help the runt. Someone so small and untrained shouldn't have to face such crazy slag.

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"Maybe. Probably not. His luck's kinda crappy, but my luck's pretty good, and we've kind of thrown our lots in with each other, so... my luck oughta win out. I've put enough time and effort into stacking the deck, I think." Offering Will a sympathetic pat, Sam stepped forward to open the door into the airport. "I've got my lucky rabbit's foot, a lucky button, red slipknots---again, for luck---a whole bracelet of lucky pennies, my lucky pendant; the works."

As soon as Will stepped inside, Sam followed. Fingers crossed (for whose sake, she couldn't say; everyone's?) she craned her neck, peering down the way to where Will's mother was.

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"For real? You've got all that in your pockets?" Will eyes Sam's pockets skeptically, like he'll somehow develop x-ray vision and be able to see the various accouterments of luck. But at least some of them seem to work, because Joyce is only just now rousing herself and sitting up, rubbing at her eyes, then immediately stumbling to her feet, face stricken.

Recognizing the signs of an impending freak-out, Will quickly waves and calls, "Mom! I'm right here!"

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"Well, I've got some of it on," but saying so was as far as Sam got. She'd been about to pull her pendant up to show Will the teardrop of red coral---real, but small enough to be affordable---but then he was waving, cutting a crisis off before it could really begin. She gave his back a light push, speaking quietly. "Don't wait for me. I'll catch up in a minute."

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mommabear

It never stops. Joyce is barely conscious before she's reaching out for Will and, finding him not within arm's reach, she's on her feet with her heart in her throat and her chest seizing. She's never not afraid for him, about him. It doesn't matter that he's there, hurrying towards her, smiling and sheepish and pink-cheeked and wearing someone's sweatshirt. All that matters is he wasn't there for a second.

So Joyce's breath rushes out and she clutches Will to her, muffling his sheepishly grumbled protests, arms like iron around him. "Honey, don't do that! Where were you? Whose is this? Who's that?" She peppers him with questions, glancing over at Sam with a quick, immediately mistrustful look.

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Strolling up after Will, the skin-witch stopped at a comfortable distance; she'd didn't want his mother to feel crowded, not while she was worked up. She offered “'M Sam,” when the other woman looked her way, but didn't hover, instead busying herself pulling the thin cardboard cozy off the coffee cup she'd all but forgotten before. She tore it in half to have a pocketable piece, and patted at her pockets. As always (or almost always--she lost it about as often as her debit card) she had the stub of an eyeliner pencil on her, and it was with it she scribbled out her address, before glancing over to see how Will was handling the interrogation. Sure, she could hear every word, but that wasn't the same.

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mommabear

Joyce is barely listening to the explanation Will gives her, too busy smoothing his hair back and looking him over, fraught with anxiety, half-convinced he's hurt and hiding it somehow. But he reassures her that no, mom, I'm okay, I'm fine and explains that Sam had helped him out, that she's nice, that it's fine. Finally Joyce clears her throat, tugging Will into her arms again and offering Sam a hesitant half-smile.

"Thank you. I'm...sorry if he was any trouble."

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“Are you kidding?” She wasn't, and Sam knew that, but the words were almost out before Sam could think twice. She smiled easily, a touch incredulous, and shook her head. “Thanks to him listening politely, I was able to kill some time talking about the territories, and he told me a bit about Indiana.... before finding the boarding pass I dropped, like a tool. It was a nice talk, and now I sorta want to see the state. To that end,”

Sam took a step nearer, offering the strip of cardboard to Will. “Maybe you can send me a postcard, some landscape, landmark, whatever's worth seeing, if your mom says it's okay.” She looked back to Joyce, offering the other woman a more apologetic smile. “I'm not stateside often, but I try to see everything I can.”

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mommabear

Joyce has her arm around Will, still, but she leans over a little to examine the strip of cardboard. Then she smiles, a softly hesitant thing, much like Will's own. "Thank you, um...Sam," she manages, reading off the cardboard. "We'd be happy to."

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