The Start of Something Interesting...

[lastonepercent]

The day was calm, with no recent Decepticon attacks, and none suspected to be incoming for some time.  The cons were too busy licking their wounds from the last battle, one that the Autobots had decidedly come out ahead on.  The celebrations had gone on long into the night and the recreation room was already a mess.

Thus, it was the perfect chance for a lone Autobot to slip casually outside.

Mirage had no shift currently scheduled, so he was free to spend his time as he pleased.  He certainly made no move to hide his departure, greeting his comrades in the halls on the way out, but the box in his hands remained unopened despite any passing curiosity.  It was quietly shifted into subspace before long, and  the former noble shifted into alt mode just as smoothly when he reached the doors.  Despite the completely inappropriate earthen race car mode, the mech had little trouble self-adjusting before driving off into the forest covering the mountain, for business unknown...

Comments

[cliffjumper]

It was probably a good thing Cliffjumper had missed Mirage leaving originally as otherwise he'd be stomping through with another intent entirely. Instead he passed the same way as Mirage had a few kliks later, annoyed and kind of restless. He'd been kicked out from the targeting range as the twins, Tracks, Smokescreen and Bluestreak and taken the whole thing over (admittedly, they had a slot), and while there was a smaller, simpler one outside, it wasn't the best one.

But deprived of shooting holes in physical or holographic dummies, Cliffjumper didn't feel like staying inside - it was a rather stunning day.

And if Bumblebee hadn't been foolish and gotten roped into helping cleaning up the rec room, he'd have asked him to go for a drive. As it was, if he'd have been spotted, he might have been roped into it as well, but he'd avoided detection.

Passing under the giant engine nozzle and out into the sunlight, Cliffjumper scowled a little as he looked around at the barren ground in front of the mostly-buried Ark, then the trees swaying in a gentle wind in the early Oregon summer.

Letting out the ex-vent he'd been holding, Cliffjumper started to pick his way around the side of the Ark, and beyond that, along the base of the peak the Ark was buried in. He supposed he could take a look at what Earth actually looked like on foot, like Hound always harped on them all to do.

[lastonepercent]

Despite the ease and speed of his departure, Mirage took his time. He set a leisurely pace around the entire circumference of the mountain housing the Ark. He wanted to inspect the area himself, as was proper; the...unique nature of the location made him want to be doubly sure of his plans.

Organic worlds. So...gritty and constantly shifting, with it's irregular ground and sopping wetness.

Yuck.

Even he had been subject to Hound's encouragement to explore, and while the green mech was something of friend, Mirage certainly wasn't doing this for the scenery.

Eventually, his path came full circle, if higher up on the mountain than when he started. The tree-line seemed like a good place to start - a natural boundary line between stark rock and leafy organic life, with great slabs of rock that could almost be mistaken for crude altars.

If one was missing their optics. But still! It would suffice.

Mirage transformed and took out his box.

[cliffjumper]

He had no idea why he'd thought this was a good idea.

Of course, it wasn't immensely uncomfortable, not really. The sun was warm, but the air and wind was still cool, reducing the need for additional cooling even with the sun above, and he was walking in shadow more often than not. The colours of the trees and plants and flowers were... nice?

There was nothing wrong with them, really. There was a veritable riot of colour, but the green seemed somewhat off and Cliffjumper found that he caught himself thinking there should be glowing, and in some cases more brighter colours.

Grimacing, he tried to tuck the rare flare of fragging homesickness back where it belonged, where it could be ignored, and looked down at the ground he was picking his way over.

Weeds, flowers, last year's leaves, plants, fresh wheel tracks---

Fresh wheel tracks?

Optics narrowing sharply, Cliffjumper started to actually pay attention to the ground and thus where those were going, because this wasn't the regular patrol route around the mountain.

Which could only mean one thing.

Technically, having realised this, he should probably contact Red Alert, or Prowl, but Cliffjumper wanted to have some proof first, otherwise they'd never listen to him.

Just because he'd once or twice had (well-founded!) suspicions that didn't lead anywhere...

[cliffjumper]

In the end, it had taken longer than probably planned or intended before Cliffjumper's "punishment" got put into actual reality, as a storm shortly after the incident in the storage room left the Autobots offering help and then a few days later Decepticon activity ramped up.

So it wasn't until two weeks later Cliffjumper was walking (okay, slooowlyyyy and dragging his feet about it) to where he'd been told to go, thoroughly uncomfortable.

Partly because he had no idea what Mirage intended, and he hated not knowing, especially as he didn't really trust Mirage - or Tracks either for that matter - to not come up with something humiliating. He was... uhm. Attracted to Mirage, yes, but that didn't mean he was stupid; the noble could be quite vicious when he wasn't aloof and standoffish, though Bumblebee had nuanced that picture, which was why, besides the physial attraction, the crush probably lingered.

But yeah, not stupid, and he'd had to spend the last two weeks with people needling him over his multiple missteps - or trying to badger him into telling them what Tracks and Mirage had been doing. How people had found out he didn't know, but he'd stayed stubbornly quiet about it. He'd also had to spend the time mostly with Bumblebee when it turned out nearly everybody of even his usual friends were being... insufferable.

Bumblebee, while he'd not let Cliffjumper get away from the fact that he'd acted stupidly in part, was at least more understanding.

Cliffjumper also found himself uncomfortable because after what had been said, he'd gone and done some research into that "pain could sometimes be pleasant" thing. Sure, most of it had by necessity have to come from human sources, but the theory was the same as he'd been able to piece together, so it was close enough to be helpful.

And close enough to let the minibot come to the conclusion that he didn't understand it at all, and got sort of... upset, at the thought of pain being caused deliberately like that, even if everybody participating supposedly enjoyed it.

It didn't seem safe, and it didn't seem right, but besides that, it just caused a viceral reaction in some deeper programming that just had Cliffjumper upset at the idea in general. And that was sort of annoying, but---

Pushing the thought away as he'd gotten there, Cliffjumper crossed his arms over his chestplates and straightened his back. He could do this.

[lastonepercent]

In the time between their last 'meeting', Mirage has been very busy. More busy than he would have liked, given the recent return of Decepticon activity. His irritation over the interruptions never really faded, only taking a different form over time.

A brief mission and a usually vicious bought of sabotage, however, ensured the former noble a block of time without emergency interruptions.

The news getting out was probably Track's doing, which Mirage couldn't really begrudge. He didn't care one way or another if people knew Cliffjumper made an aft of himself - social punishment was one the temple's preferred methods of punishment, after all. And he was going to be making his amends.

If the other mechs didn't know just what, specifically, had been interrupted...well.

It wasn't time for that quite yet.

With Tracks (who wanted as little contact with the minibot as possible) waiting in the ritual room, Mirage waited in the officer's bath nearby. He'd specially booked it or the evening, and it was the destination of the instructions relayed to Cliffjumper via comm-ping. He sat on the side of the chemical wash, waiting in the steam for Cliffjumper to arrive.

[cliffjumper]

Almost a week after his "paying back" for messing up (one Decepticon plan and the subsequent clean-up later, plus more heightened and more wide-ranging patrols as much as they could and Cliffjumper just trying to avoid Mirage without appearing to do so), Cliffjumper still wasn't sure what do to about what he'd... seen? experienced? at the ritual.

He kind of did want to know, but at the same time, from what it had sounded like from Mirage and Tracks, that was supposed to happen? Something told him that wasn't exactly right, though.

At the same time, if that wasn't what was supposed to happen and he'd done something, or experienced it differently, did he actually want to call fragging attention to that?

Those were Cliffjumper's thoughts as he sat at the padded benches in the back of the rec. room, having been reminded of it by the cube of energon in his hands. It made him grumpy, because he just couldn't decide what we wanted to do about it, to approach Mirage or not?

He didn't want to be laughed at if he couldn't explain, again, and anyway, the first few days he'd mostly avoided the mech because just catching a glimpse of him made him think of Mirage's comment about the afterglow being ruined and...

Well, he wasn't fragging dead so his imagination took over, and he couldn't have a normal conversation like that.

Stupid, fragging, annoying crush and his own flusteredness over slag like that.

Cliffjumper was by now glaring into the cube fit to make it explode by the friction of his glare alone.

[lastonepercent]

It was fairly obvious that Cliffjumper was avoiding him.

Given the lack of proper response to his final comm to the sudden, conspicuous absence of red horns in the public groups of minibots when he was near, Mirage would have been a very poor Spec Ops mech if he didn't notice.

It made him wonder all the harder what exactly Cliffjumper had seen. But of course, there were only a few options for that...which made no sense. The minibot would have been snapped up by a Temple ages ago if he somehow saw the ritual in it's entirety.

So many questions left unanswered, and no one in sight to clear things up.

Which is why Mirage didn't exactly expect to run into Cliffjumper 'out in the open' of the rec room. The noblemech froze in his steps, debating a number of options all at once. Going invisible was immediately discounted, but he didn't want the mech to run as soon as he was spotted...

[cliffjumper]

Cliffjumper spent most of the rest of the day angry and very, very frustrated that Mirage would put his fraggin' religion above someone else's need.

Okay, that might not be entirely fair; Cliffjumper was aware what belief and faith did for some people, how necessary it was, and for Mirage it was - or had been - part of his function.

That didn't mean he wasn't utterly, completely, frustrated. Cliffjumper didn't have much of patience in the best of circumstances and now, considering he apparently could go nowhere else for help...

Maybe he should go to Ratchet - Prime as a possibility didn't come up at all, even if he might know something. It just wasn't an angle he thought of - even if he'd rather try to just ignore this slag because what was the chance of him ending up in contact with something like the ritual again?

In the end, though, Cliffjumper reluctantly trotted over to the medbay the next day after his patrol, quietly hoping Ratchet wasn't there for whatever reason.

If he wasn't he could just put it off and then continue to ignore it.

Sorry no Ratchet account for youuu

[lastonepercent]

The medbay was seemingly empty at first; with no recent battles, the only current resident was Trailbreaker on the farthest berth, deep in recharge and recovering from a training accident. A stack of Ark supply crates, dusty and dim from disuse and only recently dragged up from the buried bowels of the ship, were stacked all along the entryway.

"Unless you're bleeding out, take a number or be 'volunteered'."

Ratchet grumbled, voice muffled; he was half-buried inside of a freshly-opened supply crate, struggling with some of the heavier requisitioned tools.

[cliffjumper]

When the shuttle set down, they were already under fire - cloaking was only useful if your opponents weren't expecting you to show up and had a device to detect cloaking... and a telepath.

It didn't matter much, though, Cliffjumper thought as he crouched by the opening waiting for his turn while Trailbreaker had ducked aside from the doorway to gather himself for a moment, since they did have Trailbreaker.

It meant that, while cover fire was kept up to keep the 'Cons engaged, Trailbreaker stepped forward periodically to let the the next batch a chance to charge into battle with a momentary protection against Decepticon lasers.

Squinting carefully around the frame at the experimental energy-research building a short distance away, Cliffjumper snorted and shook his helm.

The 'Cons could build weapons and whatever else for their resources, but they didn't bother to build enough generators and converters for reneweable sources of energy why?

"Group three, you're next!" Jazz called out and then dashed out along with Cliffjumper, Wincharger and Bluestreak, and Cliffjumper concentrated on working himself to the position he should at least start at,

[lastonepercent]

Under the cover of Trailbreaker and the other, more visible groups, Mirage had already slipped out of the ship he wasn't even offically on, and was long past the front lines.

Staying low to the ground and taking cover when he could, despite his invisibility being fully engaged, was simple precaution to avoid stray laser and munitions fire. He eyed the building from a distance, crouched behind a pile of trees felled by the fighting.

This was the third time in less than two stellar cycles that this same facility had been targeted by the Decepticons. That alone was not enough reasoning for this covert mission, as other human installations had been targeted on multiple occasions as well. This one, however, had yet to sustain the same level of structural damages as the others - the Decepticons were being particularly careful with this one, despite the fact that the facility no longer produced what had drawn them to take it over in the first place.

Supposedly.

While officially, the plant no longer made the weapons-grade energy sources it once did, records Blaster had 'intercepted' implied otherwise.

Both Prime and their human liaison were most eager to find out of the humans had chosen to work with the Cons willingly. Unwillingly was already assumed, thanks to the evidence.

::Going into position. Switching to standby frequency,:: Mirage pinged over short-band encrypted comm lines.

::Roger that. We'll ping you with an evac time when things get hot. Good luck.:: Jazz's comm cut out as Mirage tuned his receiver down - you could never be too careful when Soundwave might be on the field.

Mirage made his move, slipping past the Cons guarding the human facility; with the majority of them paying attention to the battle in the distance rather than the doors they were supposedly watching, it was all too easy. He was in.

[cliffjumper]

His hand still ached where new wires were being incorporated and new sensors were calibrating, but at least he had a functional hand now. He still hadn't been given leave to use it in a proper gunrange session, but he was hoping he could wrangle a go-ahead today.

Draining the last bit of energon from the tiny spare cube he sometimes filled, Cliffjumper put it away in subspace and got into the elevator. He gave in to the urge to rub his repaired hand again, squeezing the metal to push against tickling or aching sensor nodes and told himself this would be the last one until he got out of the medbay.

If any medic caught him still worrying the repaired hand, there was no way they'd let him stress it with firing guns.

[lastonepercent]

Cliffjumper wasn't the only one on the way to the medbay.

The series of viral purges had been hell on Mirage's processor, leaving him with a low-grade headache that hadn't gone away since the first day back. He was due for his final treatment, which should hopefully resolve the last of the lingering issues - including the pit-formed headache.

Leaning against the wall, Mirage awaited for the elevator with a sense of dull resolve. He hoped Ratchet's confusion at someone arriving to the medbay for their scheduled appointment early be enough to let him slip in and get it over with.

::Going down; Medbay level.:: Teletran chimed happily as the elevator arrived. Mirage stepped in, half-blinded by the hand rubbing at still-healing faceplates - only to freeze in the doorway at the flash of red inside.

"...Oh."

Drat.

[lastonepercent]

The mission started out too well - that should have been a sign that it was about to go to the pit.

Intelligence - this time brought in via atmospheric recon by Cosmos - showed suspicious Decepticon activity over the Northern pole of the planet. The Autobot fliers were few and far between, leaving the rest of the attack forces to travel via regular shuttlecraft. A poor way to travel, but the best way to get the numbers the needed for a proper assault.

Their surprise attack, however, turned out to be anything but.

The actual, sparked fliers were able to dodge the strafing run by the Seekers flying out of the sunlight, but the shuttle was too slow.

::We've been hit! Prepare for evasive maneuvers!:: The captain screeched, the shuttle bucking wildly as the frame groaned with the stress. Despite his flight harness, Mirage felt himself get tossed from his seat. The wall mounting hold his harness in place was gone, as was the wall behind it. Icy cold air was pouring in, filling the cabin with a roar; supplies and mechs, similiarly freed by the tear in the ship, flew wildly past Mirage's head.

::Hang on to something!:: Someone yelled, pointlessly.

There was nothing to hang on to.

[cliffjumper]

Hold on to fragging what, you slag-sucking glitch!?

... It was a good idea Cliffjumper had turned off his comms when the words started to bubble up, and the wind tore anything else away as he screamed it before he remembered to fumble for the emergency parachute.

It took far too long to get it open, fingers still in a way even the rushing resistance of air couldn't account for. The air slamming by reminding him that this time there were no breaks.

Then the parachute snapped open and at least everything slowed, but what he wouldn't have done for a jetpack or something...

With the ground still far away but far closer than before - at least he wouldn't be flattened - something ripped through the parachute.

Debris, a shot, whatever it was, Cliffjumper fell towards the ground again and slammed into it having barely curled up and hit it back first.

The snow had exploded away and the ice... creaked.

Then cracked.

"Fraggin' pit!"

[cliffjumper]

It was a remarkably calm few weeks after that, and Cliffjumper did try once or twice to meditate, but he could never quite get it right. Apparently sitting next to Mirage had both helped the process and hindered him personally, considering his... feelings, for the mech.

But as the days passed, Cliffjumper (and quite a few others) got more and more twitchy, since why weren't the Decepticons doing anything?!

The first reports of a strange, but clearly cybertronian ship being noted as having spacebridged into the solar system on the dark side of the moon got everybody on high alert, and Cliffjumper had hissed to Bumblebee that he knew it...

And then a shuttle had approached their crashsite in full view and formally requesting landing permission. Considering the fact that another shuttle had been noted to fly off towards the Nemesis' crash site in the Atlantic, Cliffjumper was of the opinion it was incredibly fragging dumb to trust whoever they were.

It must be a trap!

Decepticon spies, whatever!

The mechs - because they were Cybertronians, that stepped out of the shuttle and were welcomed by Prime and the command looked... odd, Cliffjumper thought where he stood with Bumblebee, Beachcomber and Windcharger among the others gathered for the landing - both from curiosity and readiness to fight if necessary.

It took a moment to realise that it was because they looked... soft.

Unworn.

They hadn't spent however long in battle, that was it, and it grated for some reason he couldn't put his finger on.

"This is a trap," Cliffjumper muttered as he and the others wandered off to get some energon while the strange cybertronians retreated with Prime and command elsewhere.

Bee just rolled his optics and patted his shoulder.

[lastonepercent]

As far as surprise diplomatic meetings went, this one had gone surprisingly well.

It had been a long, long time since Optimus Prime had the chance to try his hand at the traditional Primancy roles, and welcoming surprise neutrals into their midst had quickly put them to the test. The command staff was scurrying and the rumors already flying before Optimus escorted them to the biggest briefing room they had.

Along with the Prime, Magnus, Ironhide, Ratchet, Jazz, Prowl, and Mirage had gathered on the opposite side of the huge meeting table. Technically, Mirage was not originally intending on slipping in with the upper ranking commanders, but having been engaged by one of the finely-gilded diplomats in conversation, he had been invited to stay.

Prime's private comm making it an request (and Jazz's, making it an order) had ensured his inclusion.

The diplomatic envoy from Paradron had been pleasant enough, if professionally distant - and somewhat cool. Even they, on their forgotten colony world, had heard of the unending war between Autobot and Decepticon. It was wise for them to be wary, even if it made the Prime's spark twinge with shame.

"-but the ongoing conflict is not why we have come." The envoy's leader finished, her hands out wide. For all that the Paradrons obviously lacked in the weaponry department, she was an enthralling speaker.

"To reconnect with our lost brethren and learn the state of...homeworld affairs is our humble goal. Our worlds have been disconnected for too long." It was only a sight pause, but it had been telling. Wise of the noncombatants to be worried, but the Prime would be more worried about the other ship last detected heading toward Decepticon territory.

"I agree," rumbled Optimus, to the varied, softer sounds of accent or muted doubt from his command staff. "It would be a pleasure to reconnect and regain bonds with other Cybertronians." He gave them a pleased bow of the helm, and was relieved to see the gesture returned in kind.

"What sort of reconnectin' do you have in mind?" Jazz asked. His smile was brilliant and friendly enough, but Optimus could see the glitter of consideration in his Special Ops commander's visor.

[cliffjumper]

He'd been left staring and blushing, sputtering at the closed door since Mirage was out and gone before he'd had the chance to react, and maybe that was for the best. Groaning, Cliffjumper threw himself back on the berth with a muffled thump and rubbed his faceplates.

This was awful.

---

Cliffjumper spent most of the coming week split between taking out his frustrations on targets at the range or through racing around the Ark with Bee when he could - or alone - and reading the stupid datapads Jazz and Mirage had given him.

He'd probably mess up at least the wording of even the simplest of the prayers if he had to participate, so he tried to focus on the positioning and similar physical things.

Not just because he was better at remembering stuff like that, but also because if nothing else he'd only be asked to participate, not lead, so if he just moved his mouth without saying anything and did the rest right, no one would notice.

... He hoped.

But those prayers and blessings were hardly the worst of the whole thing. There was just no way he was going to remember all the holiday ceremonies and services and what was done and anything.

Just. No way.

He tried to memorise it, if for no other reason that messing up too badly might be dangerous especially as they'd be on an alien planet, but it all ran together in his processor.

When the day for leaving came, Cliffjumper didn't feel ready at all.

[lastonepercent]

Mirage's week, however, was spent prepping for the mission, treating it like a long-term infiltration assignment. Which it had technically become one.

After sending Cliffjumper the information packet, Mirage spent his time packing in-between meetings with Prime, Jazz, and even with the ambassadors. They were eager to continue meeting with the High Priest when not being escorted around the base by other members of the command staff, or going on carefully guarded tours outside the base.

A few meditation sessions - and a somewhat hotly worded discussion with Prime - later, Mirage was still rather displeased with Cliffjumper's required role as 'acolyte', but marginally more comfortable with it than before.

Marginally. And only because Optimus, in between assuring him he felt there was little wrong with it, made those optics at him. No one could say no to that.

Finally, after spending a extra long session with Tracks to make sure he was properly primped and polished, Mirage showed up at Cliffjumper's door once more on the day of their scheduled departure.

[cliffjumper]

By the end of the trip, worrying over the impending pressure of properly playing diplomats... and a couple, Cliffjumper was definitely ready for the flight itself to be over.

Sitting in the passenger lounge, Cliffjumper was facing one of the large viewports, which, for the moment anyway, was giving an excellent view of Paradron.

The planet was much smaller than Cybertron, but at least three times as large as Earth, and had a strangely green look beneath the swathe of clouds, kind of like verdigris.

Six moons hung like a necklace around Paradron as well.

"There's a large amount of copper-rich rock in Paradron's crust, which turns most of the mountains and any bare rock on the ground green... and the sand as well," the ambassador said, smiling a little, "the equators are rather unpleasant and have wide stretched deserts; most of the population live north and south of the tropics."

Scrunching up his nose a little at the thought of deserts, Cliffjumper thought it didn't sound too bad besides that. Reluctantly but yet impossible not to, he glanced up at Mirage.

[lastonepercent]

The trip had been a wonderful opportunity to get closer to the Paradronian representatives. Mirage was feeling much more confident in his ability to read them and gauge their reactions properly. Not completely, of course, but much better than he had when they first arrived, especially since nothing dire had happened.

Hopefully the trend would hold.

"It still has quite a lovely look, I must say," Mirage commented, slipping up behind Cliffjumper to the view ports. Arms crossed, he glanced down and gave the red mech a faint grin.

[cliffjumper]

The tour they'd been on of the complex and, a little, of the city had, in Cliffjumper's opinion, been more than enough. He was more than ready to just go hide in the rooms provided them and try to forget he'd probably made himself far too obvious when it came to what he felt for Mirage.

At least part of it; reluctantly thinking it over while locked away made him realise that he probably hadn't been completely obvious. That he found Mirage attractive, that'd probably slipped, which was bad enough.

Either way, they were now supposed to spend some hours of the night on some sort of... Cliffjumper didn't even have a word for this, but he did not like it.

"Do we really fragging have to do this?" Cliffjumper asked as he walked into the main room of their suite, aware he was rather whining and unable to care.

[lastonepercent]

"Yes, Cliffjumper, we really have to."

Mirage was stubbornly professional. He had little time to fret about Cliffjumper's clearly unintentional reveal or the possible repercussions therein - even if he was sure there would be. Instead, he eventually had to choose to focus on the job at hand.

Mirage sighed as he placed the various items they had been gifted with across their suite; having them proudly on display would please anyone who visited, and some items Mirage wanted to have a closer look at when he had the chance anyway.

"If you really, truly need to, I am certain on certain occasions it would be alright for you to remain here. It is not unusual for a representative to be worn down by such involved, diplomatic issues."

Mirage waved a hand, irritated that he felt the need to make such a concession in the first place. But keeping Cliffjumper on edge would be worse than any mild political disapproval in the long run.

"But you cannot count on that, and most situations that will require your presence. Like today does. The sort of situations you are here for."

[cliffjumper]

Two days into this (hopefully fruitful) farce, and Cliffjumper was about to fragging explode.

Mostly from this whole... thing. There'd been another, longer, tour of the city yesterday, then another banquet or whatever, though this time in someone's actual home instead of the same building they were staying in.

Mirage was glowing, and Cliffjumper wasn't sure if he meant that literally or metaphorically. Maybe both worked. Either way, the noble was clearly both enjoying himself and knowing exactly what to do, barring the differences another planet and culture made.

It was obvious Mirage was used to this, and Cliffjumper couldn't exactly begrudge him. Still didn't mean it didn't leave him feeling out of sorts and like he had to watch every slagging step.

It was exhausting and driving him spare and leaving him to notice every little motion Mirage did lately.

So, thankfully, he'd been able to escape for an unscheduled and unguarded trip around the city. Of course, people could still tell who he was because literally no one was his size, but everybody left him alone and that was all Cliffjumper cared about as he went looking.

It was risky, yes, but he reasoned that, since he and Mirage were supposed to be bonded, it should be fine... slip in under the cover of 'supposedly a couple'. Now just to find something...

[lastonepercent]

Mirage was feeling quite content, yes. It was like a dream, at times; being back in a world like the one he originally knew. He was privately surprised at how much had stuck with him; at how much still came so easily.

Of course, he was hiding most of his worry. Things were going well, but it didn't stop him from worrying about the various things that could go wrong, or constantly playing the old social ladder game. ...Which was usually also fun for a Towers mech, but it was a foreign world. Ambassador or not, he was still at a disadvantage there.

Which meant, of course, that he was well aware that Cliffjumper had it rather worse. He could tell the minibot was getting a little over-stressed as of late- which is why he shouldn't have been terribly surprised when he heard from the Paradronian's guard service.

::So I hear you've slipped your 'escort'.:: He commed Cliffjumper on their private, encrypted line, not too long after the minibot's 'escape'.