O: "...Hm. I'm glad it looks alright. I wouldn't want to embarrass either of you as well as myself." He nods his head in a slightly joking bow, trying to put the little mech back at ease. Making a mech comfortable is what he's supposed to do after all, not just guard.
"And thank you. I'll keep that in mind."
Oh, he'll do more than that. His client has just given him permission to turn down the 'offers' and 'suggestions' of the other mechs at the party.
His own tension about the gathering fades rapidly, and he has to fight the urge to chuckle. Optimus might manage to actually enjoy himself, for once.
CJ: The bow gets a grin and a brief, equally joking hand waving it off; the tone as well as the bow does its work to distract Cliffjumper from earlier embarrassment as well as moody thoughts about creepy mechs.
"Pfft, if you could embarrass someone even if ya tried, Mirage wouldn't have hired you. I think he knows I need someone to balance my.. er... 'rough edges' out or whatever." Cliffjumper shrugged, snorting just as the elevator arrived. The minibot huffed and gave the doors a glare as they opened, and then his expression, amazingly, smoothed out some.
It wasn't the elegant non-expression of a senator well-used to hiding their opinions and be as encouraging of their conversation partner to express their own. It wasn't, either, the non-descript smile of a noble of whatever suitable caste listening 'attentively' to someone of like or higher stationm feigning interest.
It was more like a neutral, slightly diaspproving stare, and it was probably as good as it was going to become in Cliffjumper's case.
The elevator let them out on a walkway and balcony suspended between two Towers spires, the walkway having transparent metal set in squares along it, the balcony a spiral pattern of the same, affording a rather dizzying view of a crystal-tree garden beneath them and between the two spires.
Every single mech and femme slowly milling about the open area, or sitting at the couches and the lounging seats available sported the same sort of (though of varying design, obviously) detail work that Cliffjumper, Mirage and Optimus did. Some also wore overly-expensive organic cloth strips, mostly as scarves.
There were a few senators, however, who were carrying full cloaks of the same. Cliffjumper sneered at the sight of them, shaking his helm.
"Ya see those? The ones in the cloaks? All but one of 'em are Decepticon senators. You'd think with their attitude to other species, they wouldn't be wearing cloaks of cloth derived organically," Cliffjumper muttered, tilting his helm up briefly at his bodyguard before his expression smoothed out again, and he wandered out onto the balcony, surprinsgly gracefully picking up one of the offered open-traingle, curved drinking 'glasses'.
He was, however, unable to not cast a glare at the single 'Con senator not in an organic cloth cloak.
no subject
"And thank you. I'll keep that in mind."
Oh, he'll do more than that. His client has just given him permission to turn down the 'offers' and 'suggestions' of the other mechs at the party.
His own tension about the gathering fades rapidly, and he has to fight the urge to chuckle. Optimus might manage to actually enjoy himself, for once.
CJ: The bow gets a grin and a brief, equally joking hand waving it off; the tone as well as the bow does its work to distract Cliffjumper from earlier embarrassment as well as moody thoughts about creepy mechs.
"Pfft, if you could embarrass someone even if ya tried, Mirage wouldn't have hired you. I think he knows I need someone to balance my.. er... 'rough edges' out or whatever." Cliffjumper shrugged, snorting just as the elevator arrived. The minibot huffed and gave the doors a glare as they opened, and then his expression, amazingly, smoothed out some.
It wasn't the elegant non-expression of a senator well-used to hiding their opinions and be as encouraging of their conversation partner to express their own. It wasn't, either, the non-descript smile of a noble of whatever suitable caste listening 'attentively' to someone of like or higher stationm feigning interest.
It was more like a neutral, slightly diaspproving stare, and it was probably as good as it was going to become in Cliffjumper's case.
The elevator let them out on a walkway and balcony suspended between two Towers spires, the walkway having transparent metal set in squares along it, the balcony a spiral pattern of the same, affording a rather dizzying view of a crystal-tree garden beneath them and between the two spires.
Every single mech and femme slowly milling about the open area, or sitting at the couches and the lounging seats available sported the same sort of (though of varying design, obviously) detail work that Cliffjumper, Mirage and Optimus did. Some also wore overly-expensive organic cloth strips, mostly as scarves.
There were a few senators, however, who were carrying full cloaks of the same. Cliffjumper sneered at the sight of them, shaking his helm.
"Ya see those? The ones in the cloaks? All but one of 'em are Decepticon senators. You'd think with their attitude to other species, they wouldn't be wearing cloaks of cloth derived organically," Cliffjumper muttered, tilting his helm up briefly at his bodyguard before his expression smoothed out again, and he wandered out onto the balcony, surprinsgly gracefully picking up one of the offered open-traingle, curved drinking 'glasses'.
He was, however, unable to not cast a glare at the single 'Con senator not in an organic cloth cloak.