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]

::I don't---!::

If Cliffjumper's twitch was read as anything but a wince while ratchet poked about the dented armour beneath the cracked windshield, the medic pretended that was all it was.

"Stay still." The comment was idle and not even particularly severe, and Cliffjumper subsided with a grimace that was as much for the medic poking around as it was for the noble.

"Sorry," Cliffjumper muttered as he glared off to the side on the floor, studiously avoiding to look at and ignoring Tracks as his optics flickered around the room.

He did not want to, and having to do something he didn't know what it was just set off all sorts of alarms in his processor (justified or not) and made him want to dig his feet in over this.

But... It'd sort of be part of the apology, wouldn't it? Refusing would make his sincere if clumsily worded attempt seem more like he'd just tried to ward off Mirage's well-deserved anger (over the mountain thing, at least) instead of actually meaning it.

::... okay.:: He wasn't sure if it would matter at all at this point, and he'd probably be lucky if Mirage would want anything to do with him after all of this was over with, but at least he would have done the right thing?

Cliffjumper didn't really feel particularly relieved after agreeing to Mirage's demand, however, and was just staring narrowly at the floor. Since he was sort and his helm was bowed down, at least the two nobles missed the slight worrying of the lower lip.

[lastonepercent]

Honestly, Mirage expected to have to go Prime.

This...possible acquiescence, was unexpected. He wasn't sure Cliffjumper would actually go through with it yet, but...it was enough to get his fist to unclench, and some of the tension finally left him. Tracks raised an optic ridge at him, but he just shook his head minutely.

::...Good. I will contact you on an off-shift after I have prepared everything.::

And after this fiasco, Mirage was certain he could get Cliffjumper scheduled 'off' for a long enough period to properly make amends. Prime and Prowl would consider it part of his punishment, surely.

[cliffjumper]

He didn't like the sound of that at all and the worried abused of his lip disappeared in a scowl.

::Fine---::

Ratchet suddenly stood up, causing Cliffjumper to cut his intended angry complaint (or something similar at any rate) and instead take a step back.

"Right. If you're quite done." Ratchet's gaze went from Tracks to Mirage and then down to Cliffjumper. "I need you to come with me to the medbay. I'm not going to bang that dent out in here."

Mostly because it would have to be done by opening things up and/or removing armour, which he wasn't going to do with an audience.

Cliffjumper opened his mouth to protest and then just closed it up again, because Ratchet could have done a small repairjob and let his self-repair take care of the rest, and here he was apparently going to go the extra length needed.

::And you can tell me what happened.::

The only reason the already on-edge minibot didn't bristle at that, was because there was absolutely no judgement in the tone, and instead he huffed and whirled around, stomping out.

"And I don't want to see this continued and finished up before I can set the time aside to be around, you hear me?" Ratchet turned to give Tracks and Mirage a pointed stare each.

[lastonepercent]

"My rites do not run on your schedule, Ratchet," Mirage snapped, vexation flaring all over again.

He ached now, all over, from plating to processor, and for what? An interrupted ritual and a half-done glyphing. They didn't even get to the gilding.

"However, I will not be able to continue for some time. Since things need to be redone. I will let you know the time-frame once it is planned."

He gave the medic a short, perfunctory head bob; the most curtsey his wounded pride and old Priest-authority would allow for at the moment.

[cliffjumper]

"Unfortunately not, but that ought to work well enough to let me rearrange things if necessary," Ratchet said dryly and nodded, leaving but not quite letting it end there.

::I'm sorry for insisting Mirage, but I am responsible for making sure all of you are fit and ready, and the situation supercedes normal procedures, even if a rite like that wouldn't normally have a medic of some sort present, which they do.::

Mirage would simply have to stand the indignity, and Ratchet made a noise in the sub-sonic range as he caught sight of the minibot stomping through teh corridors towards the medbay in front of him.

Ah, what a mess.

[lastonepercent]

::Yes, yes...:: Mirage grumbled, waving a hand as Ratchet departed.

What a mess indeed.

"Come Tracks. Let us get this cleaned up..."

Mirage stretched his arms over his head, popping out the stiffness born from pain and anger; he was spotted with drizzles of energon and tiny fragments of welding slag wrought from his own frame. He turned toward the hot oil baths, Tracks laying a supportive hand on his shoulder as they went.

At least they could take some comfort in kvetching together in the washracks.