red_diode_district | LET'S BREAK THIS THING IN

LET'S BREAK THIS THING IN

"---need an opportunity..." The speaker was interrupted as the door was opened, the intruder looking pleased.

"We just got it." Tall and lanky, the speaker didn't seem to have an actual altmode, but this didn't stand out among the group in the room. Only a handful possessed them, and they were all boat alts. "They asked for someone specifically like you." Everybody in the room looked at each other, and then to the one the newcomer had addressed, and a low, excited murmur started up.

Coming around the table to the door, the newcomer laid a mint-green hand against a pink, rounded shoulder.

"Will you be okay?" The question was sincere, but considering the opportunity they had just been given - and the details had already been transmitted - it was, ultimately, more a show of support than a chance for the subject of everyone's excited chatter to back out.

Not that that would happen.

Not now, not with this.

They needed this opportunity.

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Vents huffing in embarrassment, he quickly looked away, tires drawing together against his back as he examined the buffet table with extreme focus.

He was embarrassed and flustered, and that was only serving to irritate him when politics was added to the mix.

"...Nn. Examining the issues. Cutting through all the...backlogged protocol. I want to actually help people, not sit here and play political games."

His voice never rose above a murmur, still distantly aware of the crowd around them.

Instant a sense of failure suffused her; not the personal sort, but a prompt from her programming admonishing her for causing upset in a client. That was not supposed to happen. It wasn't something she was used to field, either, and it took Elita a moment or so to review it and attempt to recitfy the situation to silence it.

"... If you can do even half of what you say you want, I'm sure quite a few will thank you." Had any other Prime been like this? Had they simply failed to use the right entreaty to get this level of concern? Why was he so different, if he was?

Elita's voice was a soft murmur, revealing none of her internal doubt or struggle with what he was expressing as she briefly leaned up to rub a hand along the edge of the wheel-well in the Prime's shoulder.

The touch was unexpected, making his tires twitch before he allowed himself a hint of relaxation in his pose. He turned to give her a wry smile.

"It's not the thanks I want, it is the doing. Thanks mean nothing if I cannot do anything. I could be more forceful, I suppose, but I hardly want to present myself as anything like my more recent predecessors." He straightened up further, shaking his head as he regained control over the short lapse.

"But this is hardly the place to vent. I make for a terrible host; I apologize."

"Optimus, I'd like to point out that usually genuine thanks only comes after the actual help that has been rendered." She had almost called him "Prime" again, but since she had been given permission earlier, Elita managed to catch herself in time and gave another brief sgtroke to the base edge of the wheel-well before she settled down on her pedes again.

She wanted to continue this train of thought; would it not be better he be foreceful in the right areas--- She had a job to do. Elita smiled and shook her helm, curiously reaching for two energon goodies, offering him one before taking a bite out of the other herself. She wasn't sure, but she might prefer the oil cakes.

"If anyone should apologize, it is me. I'm here for you, so I apologize for any wrong step taken." He was not, neither technically nor at all, a host for Elita. She didn't really count as a guest here.

"I certainly hope they don't start thanking me before I can even get anything done. I get too much of that sort of thing as it is."

He vented a snort, amused, taking the offering and watching her eat the goodie without protest. Idly, he also noticed Ironhide hovering in the shadows nearby, politely out of audio range; which certainly wasn't far enough, given how he was able to send him a quick smirk when Elita touched his tire, as though it was something illicit. Optimus flicked his audials at him and pointedly looked away, to Ironhide's silent laughter.

"And you don't need to apologize. As far as I am concerned, you are a guest, and one a great deal more personable than many I could be with." Optimus flicked his optics toward the slowly-approaching senators pointedly. His smile, while still very mild and largely innocent, was the closest to 'flirtatious' he'd managed all night.

Glancing up before she took the last bite of goodie, Elita shook her helm slowly and lowered her voice slightly again.

"The individuals here aren't the only ones who are capable of thanking you, even if these are the only ones you might actually see and hear," Elita murmured, hoping he understood this, and that she wasn't just exposing herself to risk. But from what little she'd seen she felt it was a risk worth taking, no matter what happened later during the evening.

That he was calling her a lot more personable than anyone else here, was flattering, and the smile was something she personally appreciated, while the rest of her knew what to do with what was offered.

"While I certainly shouldn't claim anyone here is... boring," her whisper had dropped dramatically while she grinned up at him, the angle like this making sure that while Optimus could see it as he was close, anyone else would mostly miss it.

"I am, on the other hand, glad you find me... interesting." Another tiny smile upwards before she stretched in front of him, not so much touching as just allowing a view, back-mounted panels angled just so, as she picked up another oil cake before she stepped back to her previous position to not be in the way for those slowly approaching senators.

"I have no intentions of allowing these mechs to be the only voices I hear." He frowned, confused. Of course he wasn't about to allow the senators to be his only contacts, even if they had been doing their best to block him at every turn. He'd been one of the poor nobodies before all this. He knew how much other people suffered, and how big of an opportunity he suddenly had to help their entire society.

Not that his confusion stopped him from noticing other parts of the the consort besides her words. ...Again.

He had to blink to pull his gaze away from her subtle, skillful display, idly tossing the last bit of his goodie into his mouth to deal with the approaching senators. The level of smarm on the closest was nearly palpable - it was just barely polite to approach, as Optimus' plate was technically empty - and so he made no effort to smile at all, audials twitching back subtly. He was learning the game, and the simple motion stopped a few of the more proper approaching mechs in their tracks.

He wanted more than just a few goodies, dammit.

Elita looked back up at Optimus, and, briefly, there was a very naked look of surprise and hope on her faceplates, before it disappeared for favour of a more thoughtful nod. A lot more neutral, but still close to her natural reaction.

"Few would consider doing that, I think. You're either wise, generous, or just knowledgeable, Optimus." She should be more careful, but she couldn't stop that smile and gave another brush to his arm while she noticed he was keeping the senators at bay.

"Well, since we're here... Anything else of these we should be trying?" Optimus was clearly not ready to face the hordes, yet, and Elita was here to ease his needed stay, so that's what she'd do.

Fortunately for Elita, he missed the look completely, busy eying senator's disapprovingly and going for another plate of treats to force them to delay further. Her words, however, made him sputter slightly into his chrome-alloy confection.

"I'm just...doing what I should, really. It's rather obvious you can't be a proper Prime if you don't pay attention to things outside of Iacon."

Embarrassed and flustered, he wordlessly offered her the first plate he could reach: tiny, multicolored cubes of jellied energon, sprinkled with lead sulfide crystals.

Why was he saying these things? Should they had been more patient? But no, they couldn't have known... And either way, there was no guarantee he would... stay like this. Or that he'd listen, if this worked as it should as she could point out that it might work to ask this one.

No matter what, though, he was certainly adorable enough that this job was rather easy.

"I think it's admirable. History's been rather sparse with those who think like that, no matter who they are." Elita managed to be more neutral this time, merely accepted the plate... And then couldn't keep the delighted smile off her faceplates.

"Oh, thank you." She hadn't had these in forever - considering straight energon was the least expensive and with things being like they were, it was starting to get tight either way - and she took a moment to choose just the right one, pick it up between index- and middlefinger and gently place the little cude on her tongue before it disappeared.

Clearly more research into this Prime's origins is required, if they didn't consider the option that he might be halfway decent.

"Ah. Well. I've...noticed that. I'm not exactly the type of mech they would have chosen to be here, if they could have."

Oblivious to Elita's deeper conflicts, Optimus managed an awkward shrug, trying desperately to keep a straight, neutral face when the femme popped the cube onto her tongue.

"...You're welcome. You can certainly try whatever you like."

...It was very, very difficult, to say the least.

Despite third time's being the charm, at some point hope tends to get lost, and hostile intentions always assumed.

Another tiny little cube went the way of the first, with the same sort of unconcious finesse while Optimus' words caught up to her, and she frowned, temporarily (unknowingly) granting the Prime a bit of reprieve.

"... The Matrix does not choose, then?" That would explain some things, truly, as frustrating as that was.

::...Well I meant that they would not have picked me, given what I am. Or was, I suppose, but...:: he starts over a sudden, encrypted line, wise enough to keep the conversation private when he's motioning subtly toward the senators he's talking about.

Face clouding with thought, that background hum from the Matrix picks up briefly and Optimus' optics dim as he actually checks on that very idea. He hadn't considered that before, the previous Prime's memories were all there and some had been corrupt, but surely even a Prime could fall...?

Oh, they could. Nova and Sentinel both fell, and the depths are chilling. But Zeta's memories were only there as a warning, not as a Prime.

He'd be the council's choice, and someone like Orion Pax would never have had a chance if fate hadn't intervened.

There is a quiet creak of metal, and the little tray of cake in the current Prime's hand is suddenly sporting curled edges.

::I see. One would think the point is the individual, not where they come from, at least when it comes to the Prime.:: It's more of a "common knowledge" comment, both because she cannon, rightly, ask at all about his origins. What he was has no bearing now... or shouldn't, and the setting ins't really right for her to inquire about details like that...

It's also something she's losing faith in; they've attempted to lobby two Primes by now, but have been stonewalled or herded from the beginning, and no one has any patience anymore.

The heightened hum has Elita look up from her contemplation of the tiny cubes to Optimus, and when he bends the tray, she puts her own plate down to lay a hand over one of his.

"Optimus..?" She might take some pleasure from having been given perimission to use his designation, especially in a setting like this.

For a long moment, he can only shake his head, too indignant to speak; only briefly resting a hand over Elita's to show he isn't about to continue his plate-crumpling rampage.

The sudden knowledge is massive and terrible, and with a burst of certainty he knows he needs to do something about this. It's his duty, his right: something like this can't be allowed to happen again. Zeta was a terrible 'Prime', egotistical and corrupt, and they just put him in that position because they could.

Because they didn't dare allow the public access to the Matrix.

::The Matrix chooses, but sometimes, it seems, not everyone heralded as a Prime is.::

If he had time to think about it, if he wasn't reeling from the revelation in his own spark, he might not have spoken out, even growling over a locked line. He didn't know Elita, despite their enjoyable conversation. But really, what did it matter? Something this big shouldn't have to be hidden.

It just needed to be reveled at the most politically damaging moment.

While she had honestly been surprised and a bit worried at the destruction of the tableware, she was hardly afraid. It was not her he was angry at, after all, and if she understood it all somewhat, as well as from what she'd picked up about him, then it might even be good whatever he'd learned.

(Or good as in the outcome might be, hopefully.)

::... What?!:: Only with the support of her class function does Elita's faceplates remain in a pleasant neutral expression. Maybe slightly widened optics, her mouth briefly just a breath slacker, but since she's looking at her client, that might all be written off as a (more pleasant) reaction to him.

::That... But that would mean... I mean.:: Breathe, Elita. She could do that. Straightening, she pressed slightly closer again, offering the Prime a piece of cake from the plate he'd just mutilated with her hands, as much to have something to do as to use him for some sort of support.

Just a moment.

::It means, someone lied. Many someones.:: If he wasn't locked down with Prime-level encryptions he wouldn't even be voicing such ideas over the comm. The staggering scope of the deception merited no less.

He was trembling with rage on the inside, both his own and that of the Matrix. It had been used for so long, having a Prime that might actually do something made the voices of the ancient Primes to the song for change.

Calmly, he took the offered cake without betraying his inner conflict. Control, Optimus. Now is not the time.

Her shock finally passed, even as it was compounded by his assertion of a lot of (powerful) individuals having lied. Elita was curious to note the impressive encryptions their channel had, and, in an attempt to keep up the ruse of something nearing normal, picke dup her plate of tiny cubes and ate another one.

::What will you do? ... What can you do---Ah. I. Apologize.:: Elita winced, realizing she was overstepping rather severely, but his allowance of familiarity had made her slip slightly, especially as she was still unsettled by the knowledge that they had been fighting for their rights not against - most probably - any actual Prime(s), but rather fakes set there by the council.

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LET'S BREAK THIS THING IN

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looking up TF food on the wiki is oddly fun! :D

xD These things are always interesting~

YESSS

:D

:3

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*been the council's choice

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