red_diode_district | The Start of Something Interesting...

Mirage made an inelegant snorting sound, hiding a laugh that surprised even himself.

"'There is never enough science' according to Perceptor and the others."

Casually, he leaned against the wall, trying to will himself to be patient with the inevitable wait - and the painful throb in his head.

"So. Shall we take bets on the estimated wait time?"

The laugh... or even just the snort doesn't just surprise Mirage, but Cliffjumper as well, and he finds himself grinning. Who knew Mirage could sound like that?

There's nothing special with the noise, but given who just made it it seems all the more... endearing. Not that he'd call anyone endearing.

Well, except maybe Bumblebee.

"Gonna fraggin' blow us sky high sometime, the way they go on," Cliffjumper huffed and shook his helm, "and uh... I'd say half a joor."

Pausing, he then angled his helm to look up at Mirage, grinning still.

"So what are we betting?"

"A fair estimate. I'm feeling cautiously optimistic - so less than two groons, if we're lucky."

Primus, please let it be less than two, Mirage grumbled internally. He just wanted his processor ache wiped clean so he could actually enjoy his mandatory downtime after the botched mission.

He shrugged weakly at Cliffjumper's question, waving a hand.

"As for what we're betting... What would you prefer? Credit chits are always an option, upon others."

"If we're just that lucky, I wouldn't even mind losin' the bet, 'cause bein' stuck in an elevator mid-shaft ain't what I wanted to be doin' right now," Cliffjumper said, flexing his repaired hand to try and work out the ache in it. At least now it'd take a while until he needed to stop doing that to relieve the tension and aching, but on the other hand it would be that much longer until he could maybe try to get the go-ahead to use it as he wanted to.

"And it's probably just as well to use chits. Still got some I could use."

Given the lack of access to outside sources of credit chits, they were, quite understandably, mostly "paid" in extra energon or had the amounts written up for later.

"True. It is a win-win from your position: you get out sooner or you win credits."

Mirage managed a wry smile, impressed by Cliffjumper's maneuvering. Usually that was his own stance as well, but he was simply too impatient to be out and in the medbay to plot.

"But no, sitting in an elevator is not my idea of a good time either."

Understatement.

"Didn't think of that, but yeah, it'd be, though I'd rather take the former than the latter!" Grinning, Cliffjumper laughed softly, focusing on that instead of the uncomfortable thought of how deep the lift shaft was.

They weren't anywhere near the bottom of the ship, which meant that they were fragging lucky the brakes had kicked in and were holding. Otherwise, well. Otherwise they'd be in trouble. Sure, the brakes were supposed to hold, in a manually induced emergency stop or a power failure, but still.

"I'd take a 'Con attack over this," Cliffjumper said, the earlier laugh melting away as he huffed, pausing. Uncertain what to say now, if anything at all. He hadn't thought he'd end up like this with Mirage, having the chance to have a conversation, regardless of if Mirage would end up agreeing to train him or not.

"As long as it doesn't happen during this, I would prefer it as well."

Mirage chuckled lightly, half his amusement stemming from his relief that the situation was remaining tolerable.

Lights turning slightly as Mirage moved, the noble glanced down at the previous movement of Cliffjumper's hands.

"...Still getting repair work done?"

"If it got us out, somehow, I'd take it during, but otherwise, yeah, no. Especially not if it'd loosen the brakes..." Cliffjumper said with a grumble, voice falling into a mumble at the last bit and then froze at Mirage's comment, rather guiltily. Then he shook his helm, because Mirage wasn't a medic.

And even if Mirage had caught him flexing and rubbing his hand, he'd have no reason to mention it to the medics, and didn't know what Cliffjumper was planning on trying to fly past the medics.

"Uh, nah." Glancing up at Mirage, Cliffjumper shrugged and wriggled the fingers of his repaired hand, which helped ease out the tension a bit more, too. "Integratin' scrap and whatnot. Still not cleared to use it much yet, but kinda hopin' soon. What about your..."

Extricating an arm from the loose fold over his knees, Cliffjumper waved it at Mirage, intending to indicate both his physical injury and whatever might've happened before he distracted Soundwave and his scraplets. Mirage hadn't been physically restrained but had obviously been taken down somehow and not using his invisibility, so something had clearly happened before he got there.

"Ah. Yes, that sounds familiar," Mirage agreed, with the tone of one with similar experience. At the question, he reset his optics for a moment, before reaching up over to the side of his face, where a freshly replaced optic lens and healing weld lines marked the injury.

Mirage sighed, unable to keep down the vain ire that came with getting his face damaged.

"Recovering."

Snorting at the agreement, Cliffjumper nodded and looked at the floor. He caught Mirage's movement out of the edge of his vision and smothered a smirk, more sympathetic than he'd be if it had been, say, Sunstreaker or Tracks, but mostly amused.

Vain mechs.

"Promise you're still pretty, ya know---" The words disappeared into the flat silence of a vocaliser yanked into neutral.

WHAT THE FRAG DID HE JUST SAY?

Oh, he'd meant it to be teasing, just light ribbing that would mean absolutely nothing, but Cliffjumper had no idea if that was how it'd come across, especially as he... did mean it sincerely and he wasn't a good liar.

Gritting his teeth, he stared at the floor, hoped the dim light hadn't revealed the flickering flare of his optics too much and that Mirage hadn't picked up on the probably not-so-hidden sincerity, or if he had that he'd disregard it.

Miss it because it was too there, because it was too improbable.

Since that's what it was, right.

"...ah?"

Mirage's hand froze over the healing scar, golden optics flicking over to the suddenly hunched minibot.

If it hadn't been for the sudden halt in Cliffjumper's words - and of course, the body language that followed - Mirage would have been readily able to shrug it off as a joke.

He leaned toward it being a joke; a sarcastic barb, thrown his way. But it was his job to notice such discrepancies. He couldn't not see it.

But.

"...Thank you?" He managed, optics still rather wide.

At least, despite earning the minibot's disdain long ago, he still had good taste.

Primus fragging scrap.

Cliffjumper wasn't sure if that response was better or worse than he'd imagined, and if he could just behave somewhat normally now, it'd be okay. After a fashion, but okay insofar as Mirage probably wouldn't put any weight to the statement.

Other than what he'd literally said, that was.

"Gghh---Uh, yeah. Sure. You're... welcome." Scrubbing a hand down his faceplate, Cliffjumper had no idea how that would be interpreted and felt tension crawl through him.

Unable to sit still, he jumped up and started to pace the elevator. It gave him something other than Mirage and his stupid slip to think about - even if it hadn't technically been a bad slip, but frag it all - and also do.

Unfortunately it also made him more aware of the fact that the floor at the moment would be above a lot of empty air.

He kept pacing, his headlights throwing mad lances of light and darkness in the narrow space.

Nodding in acknowledgement, Mirage continued to stare for a moment before shaking himself out of the shock.

Hardly a proper way to handle a compliment, unexpected or not! Even from an unlikely source.

He glanced away for several moments, allowing Cliffjumper time to recover from his obvious embarrassment, and to think.

Unfortunately, the pacing was more of a distraction than he anticipated.

Mirage winced at the constant moving and flickering of Cliffjumper's headlights. The constant adjustments it was forcing on his optics, while normally not worth noticing, was driving his headache intensity up in increments.

"...Must you pace like that? There really isn't much room for it, is there?"

"What the frag does it---" Whirling around as he met the wall again, Cliffjumper snapped and then cut himself off, catching the pained tension in Mirage's expression and stilled.

"... Suppose not."

Engine grumbling along with the annoyed mutter from the mini, Cliffjumper hesitated before he stomped across the elevator one more time and then sunk back down in his previous spot. He still felt really, fragging embarrassed at having slipped up, but he couldn't really sit on the other side of the elevator and not give Mirage a faceful of bright light from his headlights, so sitting beside him it was.

Besides, Mirage had... it appeared, only picked up on the sincerity in relation to the compliment, not the underlying reason for the sincerity. That... worked. That was good and he didn't need to feel embarrassed anymore.

Because really, anyone who couldn't tell Mirage was stunning was just dead. He could even admit Sunstreaker and Tracks were attractive, but he wouldn't compliment them on that.

"Just too little fraggin' space in here." Which wasn't the real issue with this elevator, but the longer they were in here, the more aware he got of the fact that they were hanging suspended in the elevator shaft.

"Thank you," Mirage murmured sincerely, optics gone dim as the light stabilized again. His hedache stopped building, but it didn't retreat as quickly as it had grown.

He withheld a groan at Cliffjumper's words - he really, really hoped the minibot didn't devolve into a full-blown claustrophobia.

"I'd offer to go invisible to make it seem like there was more room at least, but unfortunately, I have yet to regain full use."

Looking up at Mirage at that, Cliffjumper stared for a moment and then smothered the half-laughter in a snort, rolling his optics. At least that made his embarrassment from his slip evaporate all the faster, so as long as nothing else similar to that happened, he'd be okay.

"You'd still be in here, wouldn't ya? So invisible or not that ain't gonna make it easier to pace." Glancing away and letting his engine rumble, Cliffjumper scowled. "Would be somethin' to do at least..."

Because there really wasn't much of anything to do in here, and he had no idea how to hold a conversation with Mirage of all mechs, even disregarding all the stupid, embarrassing slag that had happened between them up until now or the fact that he had a stupid and utterly foolish crush on the noble.

And if he started talking despite all those things, he might have another slip... or accidentally reveal what was actually bothering him with the elevator. Claustrophobia? Hardly.

To distract himself, he pulled out a mesh cloth and his glass gas gun, going over it with the cloth. He'd take out the new blasted he'd been requisitioned and pull it apart and then back together again, but that might make it harder to convince the medics his hand was fine if he stressed it too much...

"... They musta hit ya hard for the mod to still be out."

"Ha. You would be surprised how quickly people forget something they cannot see."

His lips twitched with the weak laugh, before making a face at the blunt reminder. Hard hit indeed. Mirage nodded reluctantly none the less.

"Hm. You could say that."

He shifted in place, posture be damned as he slowly slid down the wall to join Cliffjumper on the floor.

"Ratchet has been...slogging his way through the mess left behind. Hence the..."

He waved a hand vaguely up toward his optics, which had gone dim and unfocused despite the lack of light in the elevator thanks to the pain.

"Even if that's true, would be quickly reminded if I tripped on... uh, ya." Well, that wasn't an image he needed in his processor. Like, at all. Shaking his helm sharply and reining in his EM field for a brief moment to forestall any telling wavering if he blushed, Cliffjumper glanced up at Mirage as he slid down to actually sit.

That was... well, surprising. Not because he never saw Mirage sitting down (he did, a lot. The rec room was there after all), but never on the floor like this. Mirage looked... surprisingly relaxed. Though there was probably some tension from the stupid noble feeling guilty over sitting on the floor like some common mech.

He had to suppress a grin at that, but it wasn't hard at Mirage's words and he frowned.

"Is this usual or somethin'?" Waving his hand loosely in the air at Mirage, Cliffjumper grimaced. "The... uh... effort they do or whatever?" He wasn't sure how to articulate what he meant, but whatever Soundwave had done seemed to be... very tailored to Mirage, whether or not they'd known the mech would be there, and Skywarp had been aiming specifically for Mirage too.

"Then you shouldn't be pacing in an elevator in the first place. Much too small for that sort of thing."

Mirage snorted at the mental image Cliffjumper provided, shaking his head. He carefully ignored the reaction to him taking a seat on the floor - he wasn't so stuffy that he wouldn't sit when there were not other options, after all!

"Unusual result, for them," Mirage eventually commented with a shrug. He had only a brief internal debate on what to tell Cliffjumper; it wasn't like his status as a spy didn't make him an obvious target, after all.

"But no. The effort is not unexpected." But it was more than usual. Which had Mirage frowning with worry. The Cons were stepping up their efforts to catch him.

"I've got shorter legs than you, so there's just about enough space in here," Cliffjumper said, and even with the seriousness regarding Mirage's situation, Cliffjumper smirked briefly.

"Uh-huh. Suppose so..." trailing off, Cliffjumper bent over his gun to pay more attention to what he was doing, but it didn't take long before he frowned. Sure, it made sense for them to try and catch the spies and spec-ops among the Autobots that were on Earth, but...

"... whatever Soundwave did targeted your mod, right? Doesn't that mean they knew you were the one who'd be infiltratin'? Not like Jazz, who was actually there, or Bumblebee. Or the cassettes, even." Putting the blaster down in his lap, Cliffjumper straightened up and frowned up at Mirage as he spoke.

Maybe Soundwave could create a versatile enough virus, sure, but still. Mirage's mod was more than something just channeled through a power chip rectifier and would need to be hit by a lot of things, and if someone else had been going in to the facility, most of that would be obsolete.

"..."

Mirage sighed, shifting in his seat to rest his helm more comfortably against the wall. This was hedging closely toward classified and 'might-as-well-be-classified' territory, but given the conversation, it was still stuff Cliffjumper could guess on his own.

Which meant it was far too obvious for Mirage's peace of mind.

"Entirely possible. It...hasn't been ruled out."

It was the best he could admit to, at the moment.

"And you may be short, but even you're not short enough to pace comfortably in this little tin can," Mirage quiped, hoping to distract Cliffjumper from further questioning.

Hasn't been 'ruled out'? What the frag was that for sorta phrasing, anyway? And beyond that... that was kinda problematic anyway? If they were, why was Mirage still doing missions? Optics narrowing, Cliffjumper engaged his vocaliser... and then huffed.

"Hey, I'll have ya know this thing's just large enough... it ain't actually that small," Cliffjumper said with a smirk and a shake of his helm. Then he glanced up towards the cieling frowning.

It did make him wonder how good those brakes were. The floor was obviously thick enough to hold for an average of three mechs on the tall side, and the mechanics would be strong enough...

But with a power failure and no emergency power either, all that was holding those brake mechanisms was the fact that they locked down in case of a power failure. But for how long?

There was a lot of air between the elevator and the bottom of the shaft...

"Just hope it's strong enough..." Frown deepening, Cliffjumper shrugged, gripping his blaster more firmly.

At least he'd been distracted from poking at what he shouldn't?

"If you say so. I generally prefer my rooms with a bit more length to deal with intense pacing sessions."

Mirage managed a smirk, openly teasing...and quietly glad for the subject change.

"'Strong enough'?" He asked, glancing around at the elevator itself.

"You mean the break locks? Those will be fine - they are perfectly designed to keep their hold sans-power." Mirage waved a hand, projecting confidence.

"It is actually their default setting. It takes power to keep them unlatched while the elevator is running."

He would know. Spending time in elevator shafts is practically required at some point in a spy's career.

Despite feeling uncomfortable, Cliffjumper snorted and rolled his optics.

"Yeah, sure, if the point's bein' all dramatic about it. I just need to move." To distract him from their very suspended position, to keep him from being too obvious looking at Mirage, from hopefully not saying anything incriminating.

A lot of things, really.

"They are?" Looking up from literally glaring at the blaster in his lap, Cliffjumper cocked his helm. "Huh. Didn't know that. That's good, I suppose." But it didn't do anything for the fact that there was still a lot of space between them and the bottom, even if they were - supposedly - safe in here, and he couldn't actually see it given the floor was in the way.

"... How do you know that?"

Was this a spec ops thing? Because why would a noble and a priest need to know that? Or even have the chance to know that?

"I'm hardly dramatic." Mirage sniffed.

"I just have longer legs. And do you think the Prime would have less than the most sound, sane technologies in his ship?" Mirage asked with a grin. That grin because somewhat sharkticon-like at Cliffjumper's final question.

"And I know that because...well. It is a part of my extensive skill-set."

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