The immediate reaction was a snarl underlaid by a short, nearly violent rev of his engine and had he not been cuffed and locked to the floor, things would have gone differently; Megatron had a temper, and it wasn't unknown for him to give in to it and work from the consequences, even if that might be a less favourable position.
As it was, however, being that he couldn't move, he snapped his mouth shut and narrowed his optics, his earlier rage flattening out, leaving his expression blank as the rest of his intelligence, programming, and the situation caught up with the more basic spark-rage.
Dead, he could do nothing. And while he could think of any number of things the Prime might have meant - besides the obvious with this revelation - by his earlier remark, putting that aside? There were always ways - with time, patience and if you knew what you were doing - to disable non-basic, enforced coding. There were also uses of this position... even if he had to admit it wasn't something he'd read up too closely on; not something he'd ever planned for, perhaps foolishly. And really. He was not unfamiliar to either using... ah, all of one's assets, or being more or less forced, by cirumstance or lack of power.
He was not sparked last cycle, by anyone's estimation. He would not fall apart from something like this.
Having been staring at the floor as he thought, Megatron slowly raised his helm to look the Prime in the optics, his own gaze travelling lazily from the bottom of the mech's feet up along that frame until red met blue. He was mostly doing it to see how well he could still take such blatant perusal (anyone knew about his background after all), and the hands tightening on his shoulders were certainly amusing, but the point was more about the time it took.
"... And we shouldn't shirk our traditions, now should we." While they would almost be of a height if he'd been standing up, as it was he had to tilt his helm back, slightly angled to the side. The sneer in his voice almost hidden by the smirk on his lips.
"Unfortunately for you, I don't feel ready to meet Primus just yet, so I'll have to go for the second... choice."
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As it was, however, being that he couldn't move, he snapped his mouth shut and narrowed his optics, his earlier rage flattening out, leaving his expression blank as the rest of his intelligence, programming, and the situation caught up with the more basic spark-rage.
Dead, he could do nothing. And while he could think of any number of things the Prime might have meant - besides the obvious with this revelation - by his earlier remark, putting that aside? There were always ways - with time, patience and if you knew what you were doing - to disable non-basic, enforced coding. There were also uses of this position... even if he had to admit it wasn't something he'd read up too closely on; not something he'd ever planned for, perhaps foolishly. And really. He was not unfamiliar to either using... ah, all of one's assets, or being more or less forced, by cirumstance or lack of power.
He was not sparked last cycle, by anyone's estimation. He would not fall apart from something like this.
Having been staring at the floor as he thought, Megatron slowly raised his helm to look the Prime in the optics, his own gaze travelling lazily from the bottom of the mech's feet up along that frame until red met blue. He was mostly doing it to see how well he could still take such blatant perusal (anyone knew about his background after all), and the hands tightening on his shoulders were certainly amusing, but the point was more about the time it took.
"... And we shouldn't shirk our traditions, now should we." While they would almost be of a height if he'd been standing up, as it was he had to tilt his helm back, slightly angled to the side. The sneer in his voice almost hidden by the smirk on his lips.
"Unfortunately for you, I don't feel ready to meet Primus just yet, so I'll have to go for the second... choice."