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...

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[cliffjumper]

Cliffjumper would insist it wasn't a tiny detail being boxed in by a crowd taller than him anywhere from half his height to his full height or more. Especially, he thought warily, since none of them would be used to moving around someone who was that much shorter than they were.

It made the rest of the short tour when they stepped off the transports in front of the gilded building at the end of the boulevard, spires twisting around themselves, arches and whatever else creating a delicate, intertwined whole, less enjoyable than it could have been.

Maybe he was just being paranoid, but Cliffjumper didn't like how close some of them got either way.

Thundercracker was shown a room first, and then they stopped in front of a second pair of doors and the ambassador bowed.

"If there is anything you require, don't hesitate to ask, and we shall do our best to provide," he, as well as the mech who'd led the delegation to the Autobot faction, smiled. Cliffjumper squirmed and was hard-pressed to stand still and not go into the room immediately.

[lastonepercent]

Hopefully, the sheer novelty of having smaller mechs underfoot - and their infamy, being offworld ambassadors and all that - would keep the Paradronians more aware and careful than they would otherwise be. Mirage had already noticed a few small traffic jams around the perimeter of their touring area from curiosity alone.

"Of course. Your generosity is most appreciated," Mirage acknowledged with a gracious bow, encouraging Cliffjumper to mimic the motion with a gentle flick of his field.

"We will contact you when we are rested and refreshed, so we may continue at your leisure."

[cliffjumper]

It took Cliffjumper half a moment to realise what Mirage meant with the nudge, but he finally caught on and tried to copy Mirage, hiding the roll of his optics as he did so.

It wasn't a very elegant bow, but there wasn't much to do about that. Cliffjumper had hardly been trained in it, and even so, the idea of bowing made him want to scowl and simply not do it.

He didn't at all like the idea of showing deference this way.

[lastonepercent]

It was good enough to get them through the door at least.

Leading the way the moment it was appropriate, hand curling oh-so-gently around Cliffjumper's shoulder, Mirage carefully steared them inside. He didn't want to see just how prickly Cliffjumper could get about the bowing and protocol.

Then they were inside, and Mirage was scanning carefully for bugs as he slumped slightly against the back of the door.

"Goodness..."

He hadn't done that in a while.

[cliffjumper]

Cliffjumper almost shook off Mirage's hand, though more because he almost blushed when it landed there than that he was being steered into the room. A little because of that too, yes, but mostly for the other reason.

At least he waited to growl until the door had closed behind them?

"I hope there ain't gonna be a lot of that happenin'," he snapped, stepping away from Mirage even if he did rather want to stay close; but the hand had dropped from his shoulder and there really wasn't any reason for him to want or need to stay close.

[lastonepercent]

Mirage didn't bother to hide his sigh. Couldn't even rest for a minute...

"Which part? The bowing? I hate to break it to you, but that is probably going to be a common feature. It's a matter of politeness."

Pulling away from the door with a low grunt, Mirage moved to explore the apartment more thoroughly; the bug check came back negative, but he wouldn't be sure until he checked around.

He also wanted to 'check out' that opulent looking chaise lounge.

[cliffjumper]

"I don't see how bowing is rustin' polite," Cliffjumper said as he stomped off, basically doing what Mirage intended as well. Though as the minibot went through the room, his incredulity slowly grew.

It wasn't just the size and spread of their suite, it was the opulence - and Cliffjumper had the feeling that he wasn't even seeing half of it, since the things he dismissed as 'thankfully normal' might actually be the most expensive bits and bobs in the suite.

It was an unsettling thought.

"'Cause I hate to tell ya, Mirage, most of us didn't have a choice when it came to being 'polite' and bowing before the war." Cliffjumper called from where he stood in the doorway to the washracks, shaking his helm.

Couldn't believe what he was looking at.

[lastonepercent]

"Here, in this situation, it is a mark of respect and honor, not subservience," Mirage called back rather weakly. He didn't even bother to glance Cliffjumper's way; he was too busy turning wide optics to the rest of the living quarters. They were terribly opulent, as Cliffjumper noted, but Mirage's opinion of said fact was markedly different.

"...Oh."

Field going fluttery and jagged with emotion, he stumbled forward, falling face first onto the lounge.

[cliffjumper]

"Great. Except that doesn't fraggin' helpt at all," Cliffjumper said as he wandered back in, having had to resist the urge to use those washracks - and feeling embarrassed about wanting to use them - and then stopped staring at Mirage laying faceplate first into the plush-looking couch.

At least he thought it was a couch. It was shaped slightly funnily, and maybe that meant it had a different name, it wouldn't surprise him if it did.

"... Mirage? Hey, you okay?" Had they managed to poison him? Was he just tired? What? Cliffjumper crossed the room and hovered beside the... couch, whatever, not sure if he should touch him or not.

[lastonepercent]

"Mff."

Smothering his face into the plush cushions - they even smelled right, imported fluxweave from Nebulon? - Mirage didn't want to get up. Turning his head far enough to see did nothing to break the fragile illusion that was confounding his senses. The room was bright and airy and decadent, the style of furniture and wall scrolling painfully similar to some of the older elite areas of the tower that Mirage had visited and occasionally lived in during his youth.

After living in military grade ships, scraped together bases, and hiding in equally military enemy camps for the last several million cycles- it was almost too much.

"...'M perfectly well." He closed his optics as Cliffjumper's red feet shifted awkwardly into view.

[cliffjumper]

Arching an optic ridge incredulously, Cliffjumper scowled and crossed his arms.

"Yeah? You don't fraggin' seem okay to me," he snapped as he stared down at Mirage where he was sprawled out on the couch, long limbs stretched out and accomodated by the stuffing and cushions instead of being awkwardly too short or not broad enough.

Mirage looked like he belonged there, and Cliffjumper looked away, scowling at some etched piece of art on the wall and felt all the more awkward for it.

[lastonepercent]

"Really. I'm...fine."

Mirage reluctantly rolled over, slowly settling into a languid sprawl on the cushions. Cliffjumper's worried hovering wasn't shattering the illusion quite yet, at least; being able to see the entire bright room let it linger on. He blinked dim optics in the minibot's general direction.

"Fine. Just...it's nice."

[cliffjumper]

"Fine? Nice?" Cliffjumper sputtered and whirled back on Mirage, pointing at him, "what the slag is wrong with you, Mirage?"

He was, to be honest, worried. Would have been even if he actually didn't like the mech, if he had no... rusting infatuation. But he did, which didn't make anything better.

What could it be? Mirage seemed to have... wilted almost immediately after they got in here, so was it something in the room? But he was unaffected. What had Mirage touched that he hadn't?

Throwing a glare around the room, Cliffjumper swore quietly. He wasn't really made for stuff like this.

[lastonepercent]

Mirage blinked, optics brightening as they refocused on the (agitated, worried) minibot by his side. He shifted faintly, reluctantly loosing some of his strutless sprawl.

"...what? Nothing is. Wrong with me, per say. Just..."

Melancholy. Longing. Homesick.

"Unsettled? But not worth any worry. It's just...familiar."

A sigh.

"We're fine. I'm fine."

[cliffjumper]

Cliffjumper still didn't believe Mirage, and his stare probably broadcasted that loud and clear. He didn't like this. Mirage was usually pretty predictable; sort of high-strung, kinda snobby, irritable, and when it was right, surprisingly kind and considerate.

This?

This was just...

"You're sure?" Cliffjumper's frown refused to leave, and he cast a glare around the room again, eyeing the door. Mirage had leaned against that... Did these Paradronians have something like Bombshell's cerebro shells?

But what had Mirage just said? Familiar?

They hadn't ever been to Paradron---

Looking around the suite, which also made him scowl for another reason entirely, Cliffjumper frowned again.

Familiar.

... Mirage was a noble. Was that it? He was caught somewhere between disgust and exasperation, and still not entirely convinced that conclusion was the right one.

[lastonepercent]

"...yes Cliffjumper. I'm fine. I'll be fine."

He sighed, illusion cracking around him like the fragile glass bubble it was. The little minibot's worry was hard to miss, and it wouldn't do to let him get too frantic.

"Just give me a few minutes. Nothing to worry about."

He offlined his optics once more, shifting on the lounge.

"...do try to relax yourself, hm?"

[cliffjumper]

Relax? Here?

Cliffjumper's expression probably said all too loudly what he thought of his chances of that.

"I dunno how I'm supposed to do that," Cliffjumper huffed, not about to say he felt like he didn't dare sit down anywhere for fear of breaking it - or just feeling out of place.

"This place's got a real nice washrack, though, if ya wanna use that," Cliffjumper said as he threw Mirage a glance over his shoulder walking up to the large window that covered the wall, admitting that the view, at least, was really stunning.

[lastonepercent]

Mirage shrugged from his reclined position. It was worth a shot? So far they had yet to find any reason to continue being stressed.

"Hmm. Thank you. But well...maybe you should give it a try? Indulge a little?"

Really. It would probably help the smaller mech relax.

[cliffjumper]

"Someone needs to keep watch!" Cliffjumper snapped, shaking his helm. Not that he hadn't thought of it when he peered into the room that had turned out to be the very generously sized washracks (with a solvent soaking pool and an oil bath as well), but with Mirage like this, Cliffjumper didn't like the thought of getting distracted by something as trivial as cleaning up.

Even if he'd literally never seen such a washracks before. The Ark's were some of the nicest he'd been in, but they were still utilitarian and practical, and there were certainly no soaking pools of any kind.

[lastonepercent]

"In a locked room?" He sniffed. "Anyone coming in I would certainly hear."

Mirage waved a arm, flapping his wrist toward the washroom.

"Go, enjoy yourself. I'll 'keep watch' and ping you if anyone comes by."

[cliffjumper]

"Not if you got distracted or fell into recharge you wouldn't hear slag!" Cliffjumper protested and then, reluctantly, let his glare from from Mirage to the door that led into the... whatever that small room could be called that was before the washracks.

"... fine."

He still didn't like this and he still didn't believe Mirage would keep the attention that he should where it was needed, but he'd go. Which made Cliffjumper feel guilty, as the door closed behind him and he poked around the washracks properly, figuring things out.

This was way too indulgent and stupid and completely unnecessary. He was pretty sure Mirage would say it wasn't, that it was for the mission or some slag, but Cliffjumper was pretty sure he didn't need to be shiny for this.

But the soaking pools were a bit too tempting, so in the end he did make use of the washracks, but left most of the implements alone as he couldn't figure what they were for. He still found something to get rid of the worst scratches and small dents and some proper buffer and polish and he felt ridiculous by the end.

Why had he even done this? The oil bath had been amazing, and it just made him feel both more guilty and very annoyed with it all. Cliffjumper refused to look into the mirror set into a wall of the washracks and stalked out, over an hour later, and stomped over to the windows in the main room.

[lastonepercent]

By the time Cliffjumper emerged from the wash racks, Mirage's optics were well offline - but he had at least progressed to sitting up in the lounge chair, facing the entry hall. Long limbs tucked up under himself, he was attempting to meditate, field pulsing calmly.

"Ah, there you are. Enjoy yourself...?"

He blindly turned his helm toward Cliffjumper's stalking steps, lighting an optic idly; and blinking fully at the shine of the minibot's polish.

"...oh."

[cliffjumper]

"I don't know what half the things in there do," he muttered, then froze for a moment between one step and the next at the noise that slid out of Mirage and he had full control of his EM field and it did not just jangle out all over the place.

Why had he thought this was a good idea? Nevermind that there was some tiny part of him that was very pleased at what sounded like a positive reaction from Mirage.

He hoped, anyway.

"This was a rustin' dumb idea," Cliffjumper said with a hiss, ducking his helm even if Mirage couldn't see his blush-bright (from embarrassment) optics.

[lastonepercent]

"I...think you figured it out well enough."

Mirage coughed politely, straightening in his seat to turn and give Cliffjumper a proper, blatant once-over. Shiny and well-polished, he suddenly didn't look so out of place in the fancy quarters - in fact, he fit in quite well.

The red minibot sure did clean up nice.

"You look good."

The EM field fluctuation made him grin, though.

[cliffjumper]

"'Cause I left most of the stuff alone," he muttered, feeling embarrassed to admit he'd even touched a single extra thing than necessary. Staring out the window, Cliffjumper wondered if he was imagining Mirage's optics on him.

Some part was sure he was, because as if Mirage would have any reason to stare. Another tiny part rather hoped he was---

"I look ridiculous!" Cliffjumper cried, jerking at the compliment and there was no way he could control his EM field as it jangled out again, and there was once again that tiny part of him that was very, very pleased Mirage had noticed.

The rest was just flustered.