It took only a few huffs and snorts to signal Ramhorn's annoyance and tell those around him to beware his foul disposition, so familiar were most Autobots to the orange cassette's mood swings that they no longer needed anything more. Most got out of his way when they heard the telltale grunts and snorts, and few saw reason in attempting to learn the source of his disgruntlement.
Eject was in neither group.
"C'mon, Ramhorn," he tried to plead with his brother. "We go over this every time - you know you can't play!"
"Then why don't you play something I can play?!" Ramhorn demanded to know with an annoyed toss of his head. "Like soccer! I don't need hands for that!"
"You kill the ball every time you play!" Eject countered. "Look, I promise - I'll do my research and find something you can play later tonight, okay? I promise." Eject suspected the only reason Ramhorn let him go was because he was the only one of their cassette group who actually kept the promises he made. The elder of the two clearly was not happy about it, but he gave Eject a dismissive snort, and with a parting pat to Ramhorn's snout, Eject rushed away to the Autobots' outdoor basketball court before he was any later.
Ramhorn shuffled along after him simply because he had nothing else to do, but he did not sit beside the court with the other spectator Autobots. He stayed back nearer to the Ark and sat down with a huff, his audios pressed back as he watched Eject run out onto the court to join his team of Blaster and Jazz against Optimus Prime, Spike, and Hound. Eject and Spike were the first to wrestle for the ball, but Eject, of course, was much more nimble, as well as much more practiced, than Spike, so it was easy for him to snatch the ball away and send it to Jazz to score the first basket. Of course, Jazz being Jazz, he had to make a show of it, dangling from the basket by his hands a few seconds before they began anew, several watching Autobots cheering for the different "teams".
Ramhorn frowned and lifted one of his stubby feet to look down at it. He knew Eject had a point, but that did not mean he had to like it. It was not as if Ramhorn chose to not have proper hands. He was designed for brute strength, not detail work. Still, he often wondered what it would be like, especially when he had to sit idly by and watch his brothers and the other Autobots have fun. If he had hands, then he could join in on the fun too! For a while, he was able to have a little fun playing soccer, but as Eject pointed out, his horn had killed a great many soccer balls until, once again, they quit playing with him.
So many games needed hands - basketball, baseball, hockey, boxing, volleyball, pool, even Hound's poker games - and it made Ramhorn so angry and envious of all the Autobots who had hands and took them for granted. Even the Dinobots had hands most of the time. The only two who could really understand Ramhorn's plight were Steeljaw and Sky Lynx, but neither seemed to really notice their shortcomings the way he did. Sky Lynx was always so caught up in himself that he did not notice anything else, and Steeljaw was placated easily enough by simply sitting in the rec room with the other Autobots. So, while they could understand the feeling of not having hands, they did not understand Ramhorn's jealousy.
He looked from his foot back to the basketball court to watch Optimus Prime bounce the ball over to Hound, but Ramhorn was not paying attention to who was winning or what they were doing. All he could see was their hands and how big or small they were compared to each other's and the ball. It was also rather interesting how most of them had five fingers - Ramhorn always wondered about that. Why five? Why not ten? Surely then they could hold things more efficiently. Five was apparently not enough if the way Blaster lost his grip on the ball was any indication. Why then did some mechs only have three or four fingers? Like Omega Supreme - he only had three very large fingers on each hand.
Ramhorn lowered his gaze back to the ground and lifted his foot once more to look over it. He tried to imagine what it would be like having fingers, what it would be like to be able to hold things with something other than his mouth or by impaling it on his horn. He found himself watching Jazz dangle from the basket again and sighed.
Unfortunately, he would never know.