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 get all of this fraggin' maneuvering you're used to, but that's simple enough," snorting, Cliffjumper shook his helm and glanced up at Mirage, "well, the washrack's free, if ya want it."

Obviously it was free, since Cliffjumper was sitting right here, but he had no idea what else to say and making more incredulous noises as he found out more about the ins and outs of the social life of nobles, here or on Cybertron, wasn't very conductive.

[lastonepercent]

"'Maneuvering' is part of my job," Mirage said, amused. "But when little is at stake, it is much more enjoyable. And if we're going to this party, I intend to enjoy it."

He stood up, giving Cliffjumper a nod, before striding toward the washracks.

"Thank you. I might as well take advantage of it."

[cliffjumper]

"Yeah, yeah, I know. This gotta be like comin' home for ya," Cliffjumper, throwing a glance at Mirage's back as he left. Only to catch anything if he said anything more, of course. Not to watch him leave.

At least one of them was having fun, or, at the least, were on familiar ground. This really wasn't Cliffjumper's area of... anything. Just the class differences made this whole this uncomfortable, and he felt like glowering at every single mech he passed.

Even the attendants employed, since they seemed somehow snobby as well - though he supposed that made sense, they were employed at the highest level of government here, after all.