red_diode_district | The Start of Something Interesting...

The Start of Something Interesting...

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...

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Mirage nodded and allowed the conversation to fall silent for several long moments, but the silence was a bit much almost immediately. Conversation was the best way to pass the time, and his own natural curiosity wouldn't allow the chance to pass him by so easily.

"...does it really bother you that much?"

Mirage asked hesitantly, glancing over across the dark toward the twin points of blue light. He was careful to keep the question neutral - they were in a sealed tin can after all, and the resuscitation of their previous attitude toward one another would be quite unfortunate.

In those moments of silence, Cliffjumper had loosened up, started fingering his gun and then slowly started to pick it apart. They had around half a joor, at least, stuck here, and he was pretty sure the stress he'd put on his still-repairing hand wouldn't be too much strain for him not to be able to fake in front of the medics.

Hopefully, anyway.

"Uh---" Freezing over his gun, Cliffjumper grimaced and didn't look up from it. "It ain't claustrophobia, so I suppose it could be worse," Cliffjumper said with a growl, frustrated at himself... but unable not to feel uncomfortable.

At least the floor wasn't see-through or anything like that.

"I'm certainly glad it is not claustrophobia, though I imagine we might have been forced to deal with the fallout much sooner if it were."

Mirage made a wry chuckle, though he didn't stop giving Cliffjumper a searching look.

"I suppose it is the highly unlikely chance that we could fall, as you brought up the breaks earlier?"

Edited 2014-06-12 20:25 (UTC)

"Probably," he tried to sound flippant about it, but feeling Mirage's optics on him didn't really help with that.

Mirage's question didn't either, and there was no way to hide that twitch - even in the gloom of headlights-lit elevator it wouldn't have been impossible to pick up on. Growling, engine rumbling along, Cliffjumper tapped his gun against a knee.

It still took a good few long moments before he said anything.

"... yeah. Off the ground and slag."

Mirage's gold optics bobbed in the dark as he nodded. That explained a few things, and he could sympathize, even if he did not share the phobia.

"There is hardly any shame in that. I'm not Sideswipe, after all - I won't be teasing you about it.

Without concious thought, he reached out, giving the nearest portion of Cliffjumper - a folded knee spur - a consoling pat.

"A much more acceptable worry that 'human cooties' or 'rodent infestations', after all!"

Really. The number of things some of the mechs on Earth had begun to fuss over after arriving...

At the mention of Sideswipe, Cliffjumper snorted - it was, however, a relief that this was Mirage and not Sideswipe. And Red Alert, if he was listening or picked up on it later, wouldn't say anything.

"That's somethin' to be glad for..." Huffing, Cliffjumper couldn't suppress the brightening of his optics at the pat - or the immediate spike in sensitivity of the sensor nodes there, even if the pat was short.

Fragging embarrassing.

"At least even humans are afraid of human cooties!" He was surprised to find himself laughing, but... it was a far better option than anything else.

"I should hope so!"

Mirage chuckled at Cliffjumper's reaction, internally pleased and smug that he had at least temporarily managed to distract the minibot from his fear.

"Yes, and human 'cooties' are for humans, not Cybertronians. Really. The Autobots on this ship should know better than to fling wild rumors and fearmongering around." Mirage waved a hand, optics rolling.

He couldn't help but snicker, ducking his helm.

"Yeah, at least the germs and scrap. But all the fraggin' stuff that can stick to ya ain't pleasant." He didn't have any fear of it, but it was pretty disgusting and after landing on Earth he'd become a far more regular user of the washracks than before.

Usually he just kept to daily maintenace and whatever else, but here? That sometimes left him feeling as if there was slag still sticking to him, especially after having been on a drive, patrol, battle...

It was annoying was what it was, though presumably he'd be more used to it if they'd fought on more planets before this...

"Well no, it isn't fun. I've lost count of the number of times I've gotten rocks or twigs or muck stuck in or between my undercarriage."

His extreme distaste was obvious, given the look on the former noble's face.

"But it isn't worth flailing around in a panic over, either. From what I've heard, the medics have been stuck giving refresher courses on basic xenobiology to several panicked individuals."

"Ugh, yeah." Grimacing, Cliffjumper twitched, and at Mirage's expression he was struck both by the openness of it, and the ease with which they were talking. He shook his helm.

"Muck and bugs and whatever else is in all the slag around here that can get lodged everywhere... hate the fact that any battlefield basically becomes a mud pit, if we ain't fightin' in the streets."

The planet was way too wet and even when it wasn't, like, say, in a desert, the sand then got everywhere instead.

At least that was dry, but it could itch something fierce, especially if it had lodged itself somewhere but good.

"That's true, though," he couldn't help laughing again, some of the earlier tension bleeding out of his shoulders and wheel-wells unnoticed by Cliffjumper, "I ain't got it that bad, no matter how disgustin' it can be. Kinda surprised you ain't been among those, though."

Tilting his helm, Cliffjumper peered up at Mirage, both with some faint underlying incredulity coming from their class differences - nobles always seemed so slagging stuck up and prissy - and just amusement and some respect that Mirage wasn't reacting like that.

Cliffjumper wasn't the only one who was surprised, but Mirage was a bit too pragmatic - and easily swayed thanks to the pain in his helm - to question it much, not even in his own processor.

Trapped in an elevator was the perfect place for a suspension of hostilities, even if it didn't end up lasting past the doors reopening.

"Me?" Mirage asked, hand going to his chest-plates as though wounded.

"Hardly. I take Ratchet at his word about what harmful flora and fauna might be on a planet. "

He sniffed, before giving Cliffjumper a slow nod.

"Thought for sure you'd get upset by the dirt of it, if nothin' else." That was pure teasing, with a smirk. It lacked any annoyance or rancor which he might have lashed out with earlier, of in any other situation if he was actually angry or annoyed with Mirage.

At the moment, there was no actual meanness meant at all.

"So I guess that means you've got somethin' up on Sunstreaker and Tracks," he said with a snort and a glowing roll of his optics.

"More than one 'something' I'm sure."

Mirage sniffed again, only half serious as he hid a smirk. He waved a hand idly around in the air, imperious and languid.

"I am not going to roll around in it, 'no, thank you for the invitation Hound', but I accept the fact that there is little to do to avoid it on a planet covered in, and even named 'dirt'."

Cliffjumper burst out laughing, shaking his helm and leaning back against the wall behind him, surprised at his amusement. But it was nice too, because it diffused some of the tension that was squeezing his pistons and kept his field in tight against his chassis.

"I really don't get how Hound can like it so much, but it's nice that someone does I suppose. And yeah, we shoulda guessed how bad it'd get when we found out the name, shouldn't we?"

This was far better than he could've hoped for - and yet he'd rather it not have happened, but Cliffjumper was too anxiously wound up and amused at the same time to care too much at the moment.

"We probably should have, honestly. And Hound...Is Hound. Not much else to say there." Mirage agreed with a shrug.

"As long as he enjoys it, I suppose I can hardly fault him for enjoying it in the midst of his function."

His voice dropped to a low, dire murmur, optics narrowing.

"So long as he cleans up after himself in the washracks, of course."

He had to smother his chuckle at that, leaning over to hide his faceplate in his arms as they rested on his knees.

"And he's forgotten to do that a few times. I remember Spike crackin' up the first time it happened." There's been a lot of disgusted reaction and some people had slipped and it'd been... a mess.

He'd had to help Bumblebee as one of the victims of the mud, but that hadn't been bad.

"I. Noticed." Mirage growled out, faceplates scrunching up in annoyed remembrance. His engine revved up in a low rumble.

"I don't know how many times he's done it. But the first time I found the washracks in that state had best be the last time, if Hound knows what is good for him. He can dirty himself as he pleases, but I draw the line at having to bathe in his grime."

Mirage's growl just had Cliffjumper laughing into his arms again. He agreed with Mirage, but it was still funny.

"Guess that's why that outside hose was installed," Cliffjumper said, voice partly muffled against his own arms and weaving slightly from residual laughter, "not that it ain't been useful for everyone else, too... At least we can wash off quick before gettin' inside."

It was a boon for when patrol or battle had ended up particularly muddy or grimy, which also made sure as little muck as possible got tracked around inside the Ark.

Mirage's growl melted into a pleased sound, and a surprised smirk flickered across his face

"A hose? Ah, so that's what they did. Good, I was starting to wonder what results Hound and the others would bring."

After all, it wasn't Mirage's fault that a good half dozen other terrified crew-members had been present when he'd laid into poor Hound, and had ended up nodding in the same panicked agreement as the muddy scout. In that case, he could see why Hound - or no one else - had approached him afterward.

His temper had been quite shameful that day.

Perhaps Hoist and Grapple had been swept up into his demands and had added the spigot themselves?

Looking up from his arms after a last few chortles, Cliffjumper tilted his helm. Thinking about it, he had no idea why that hose had been put up, or when. He'd only found out after a particularly miserable patrol when it'd been pointed out to him, before he was even allowed inside.

He'd been really cross before he realised why he was being waved away.

"What, you had somethin' to do with that?"

He could actually see Mirage... or Sunstreaker and maybe Tracks too, be responsible for yelling loudly enough about disgusting muck in the Ark. Mirage might be accepting of the mud when it was outside, it seemed like, but it was quite obvious he didn't like it when it was anywhere else.

"Perhaps."

Mirage shrugged, all languid confidence in his slump against the the wall.

"I might have been a bit harsh on poor Hound when I stepped in mud up to my wheels in the washracks that day."

He grinned widely, splaying his hands out in false innocence.

"If anyone else in the 'racks with him was intimidated with him and decided to take some initiative on their own...well. Good for them."

Watching Mirage splayed out up against the wall and the implied confidence displayed in the lines of his frame, Cliffjumper had to duck his helm and look away. Usually those sort of movements were hidden (at least to Cliffjumper) behind - or maybe overshadowed by - Mirage's uptight, precise noble etiquette.

Cliffjumper was sure some people found charm in that, but to him it was grating and annoying, but the funny thing was, Mirage displayed less of it than, say, Tracks. In some other cases the other scattered nobles Cliffjumper had seen through the war might have displayed the same level of stiffness, or less.

Mostly more, however.

Anyway, Cliffjumper knew when his annoyed acceptance that Mirage was attractive (and his disgust of himself at the same, a noble, really?) had slid down into something more and which had led to Cliffjumper ruthlessly trying to ignore it.

That one time he'd caught Mirage displaying something similar to this; a surprising ease of confidence and command. Not military command either. More like...

Optics narrowing, Cliffjumper pushed those thoughts away.

"Pretty good idea, if, ya know, you hypothetically were responsible for sparkin' the idea and all that."

"'Hypothetically', of course," Mirage agreed with a tip of his head.

"Perhaps someone will take claim for the new addition and we'll be able to narrow it down, but until then, I am simply satisfied with the results as they are. So long as it is actually used."

Still amused, Mirage still trailed off with a sigh, refocusing on the dark ceiling lights and the continuous lack of motion of the elevator.

And it was getting warm, the air stale and heating even from their idle systems. Thankfully, the time was almost up.

"I know I've used it more than once, at any rate, and I've seen a few others too," Cliffjumper said with a grin and a wave of his hand, shifting in his seat and trying to ignore the preliminary warning about raised temperatures.

Nowhere near dangerous or even a little questionable yet, but the longer they stayed in here... Of course there was ventilation, but an elevator wasn't made to contain several mechs for any length of time.

"Some water right now would be really fraggin' nice..." that was as close he'd get admitting it was getting warmer in here for now and the fact that water was good for cooling off, "kinda funny how used we've got to water by now, though."

"Agreed," Mirage remarked, contemplative gaze not falling away from the ceiling tiles. "Especially with a light crusting of ice- it makes a nice contrast on heated plating. It is certainly useful for many things, provided that you can avoid the rust."

He allowed himself a wistful expression only for a moment. Shifting in place, the spy finally stood up all at once with a heavy sigh, as though the pleasant thought was too much to contemplate.

"Well. I'm tired of waiting, and this heat is only going to aggravate my processor ache back into being. So. If you will excuse me."

And with that, Mirage hopped up into the thin side-railings of the elevator, bracing himself up into the corner with a hand on the door frame. The other hand was already reaching up for the sealed latches of the ceiling panels.

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