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"It's kinda weird to be wanderin' around a 'Con ship freely with a former 'Con watchin' me. Feels kinda... oppressive." Jazz shrugged some and wandered around the room. He eyed the computers, scanning them as he went along as though looking for something? Perhaps, though not anything that Jazz would admit to. He was just looking, servos folded behind his back as not to be tempted to touch. It was still there, though. Jazz just made a point of being obvious that he wasn't going to let his digits wander on stuff and risk messing everything up.
After taking note of where everything was, Jazz found himself a chair and flopped down in it. He leaned back, stretching his arms over his helm as he tried to ease the tension out of his back strut. "Next time you're gonna jump on me, clear the back, yeah? I'm an ol' mech and my back can't take bein' bounced around on." Jazz snorted softly and turned the chair around so he was facing Barricade. "How come YOU guys got the cool swivel chairs! That ain't fair!" He started to spin around then, faster and faster in the chair until he could barely hold his balance anymore.
THUD
Jazz fell sideways right out of the chair on his back then started to laugh. He probably looked like some fool the way that he was laying there with his arms stretched out at his sides with one leg on the chair while the other was on the floor. It had been a heavy laugh, though there was a bit of strain to it and soon enough Jazz found himself going silent and simply laid there, staring at the ceiling of the room. He seemed to not even be in the present now, having drifted off somewhere as something clicked and stirred up one of the memories Ratchet had uncovered earlier.
"With all the traps this wreck is equipped with it is a far safer place than your base." He shrugged and watched the other once he sat down, making a note of how Jazz moved and where the tension seemed to sit in his smaller frame. Interesting. So Jazz was having trouble with his back strut was he? There were simple enough means to remedy that, if the problem was kinked wires anyway. Those ways depended on him getting claws on the little glitch, however, and he wasn't sure he could do it without having the other mech trust him enough for it. Which wasn't happening today, for certain.
He could only shake his head at the others complaints, absently rubbing at the back of his helm as he watched. "Because this place was made for mechs twice your size, most of them with fixed wings that made it impossible to just look over a shoulder to converse with those close by. So they swivel."
When Jazz fell out of the chair something shifted in the former Decepticon and had him actually darting across the room to check the little mech over. "You seem to have an issue keeping your pedes under you, I see." His tone was mild and at a lighter lilt than he usually possessed. Arms crossed over his chassis as he shook his head and leaned over to offer Jazz a hand up.
He waited a moment, and when it seemed the other had somehow fallen into his own thoughts the hunter gave a sharp blare of his sirens and snagged the other anyway. "Jazz!" He barked out, tone firm and holding the inflection of someone that was used to issuing orders. Which he wasn't, being a foot soldier, but it was that way regardless.
Barricade ended up hauling the other up with too much force, and staggered back as he pulled Jazz right in against his chassis for a moment before he stepped off. The flare of energy that hit him rocked him back some and this violently protective urge hit him straight between the optics. He snarled and shoved the other mech right into the nearest chair. "WAKE UP!"
@jazz
"I'm the bad cop. Don't bother to ask for the good cop, I killed him."
Jazz was completely out of it, not even so much as reacting to Barricade as he stood over him. There was no reaction, no acknowledgement that the former Decepticon was closer to him than he would have ever allowed. But there he was, laying there on the floor on his back, just staring right past Barricade at the ceiling overhead. The other's words fell on deaf audials and his visor started to darken as the light began going out. Memories were flooding in, distracting him. The colors of the vessel reminded him of...
There was a sudden pull from the past that brought him to the present. While his visor being nearly completely out at this point and him coming out of his daze had left him unable to see things clearly, his spark definitely was paying attention. Right away his spark sang in its chamber and called out to the other mech's own. It recognized that spark pulse and as he was brought in close to Barricade, it pulsed out a series of beats in an attempt to hear a response.
"Prowl?"
Jazz was snapped back as he was shoved into the chair and hit it hard. His visor came back on at full brightness to show that he had come back to the now, and, once he realized that it wasn't Prowl who was in front of him? Jazz kicked out at Cade. It wasn't much more than impulse that had caused this, as his way to keep the other mech at bay for that split moment. At least until his vision came to focus and he found himself staring up at Barricade now then he stopped his pede in mid kick and lowered it back to the floor.
"You're not.. oh. Cadey. Um... sorry, that was weird. I thought ya were Prowl..." He had thought it was Prowl because of his spark. How had it made such a huge mistake? Then again, he had sensed Prowl's life signal earlier as well and it had turned out to to be this guy. "Okay- the frag's goin' on? Ain't no way my spark would mistake ya for Prowl's spark beat. Are ya his evil twin or somethin'? This is WAY too weird for me." Jazz started to stand up-
Too fast, too soon, and he was down in the chair again. This was fine. He would just wait a moment or two then try again.
That sound. That fragging sound! He could still hear it, hadn't gotten far enough away yet not to. Jazz's spark made music when it was close enough to his own, which made no sense to the former Decepticon. He knew what compatible sparks sounded like, and that was it. However, there was no way in Primus' great creation that this little Autobot was in any way compatible to him. Aside from the point that he was pretty sure the other was already bonded to the tactician Prowl, they were as different as night and day.
This bass growl tore out of the hunter as the other basically called him by the very mech's name that he assumed was Jazz's sparkmate. "Not even close." His spark clenched in pain, wrenching inside his chassis from the abrupt action he'd put himself through. Too close, spark compatible, and a violence towards that? Nope, he wasn't staying up long.
It was the kick that did him in. He was dazed, so Jazz's pede caught in straight in the chassis, sending him sprawling across the room into a console before he sank to the ground, arms crossing over his chassis in a clearly protective motion as bright light spilled out from under his plating. He winced and felt consciousness slipping away from him before hitting his side on the floor. Through it all he could hear his own spark wailing, the sound broken only by the helpless little musical tones it let off. Calling for help from someone that simply wasn't there.
His intakes heaved as he dug claws into the metal plating that made up the floor of the Harbringer, trying to force himself to remain online. If he went out now Jazz could kill him, and that was unacceptable. He'd come too far to be taken out like this!
He never even heard Jazz comment about what was going on, too far into the failure of his spark to really hear or even care what was being said to him. His entire frame locked up as he lay there, and in desperation Barricade flailed outwards trying to get back on his pedes. If he could get up he'd be fine. Good soldiers kept on even when they were dying.
"Help me..." He had no idea he'd spoken, or that his voice was only a shade deeper than Prowl's and held the exact same inflections to it. All he could perceive was his systems trying to shut down, the warnings flashing across his vision of terminal spark failure. He had to get to help, had to comm Optimus to see if he could just....
@jazz
"I'm the bad cop. Don't bother to ask for the good cop, I killed him."
Everything was happening so fast! Jazz almost didn't have time to comprehend what was going on so it was a good thing he was always quicker than most to realize a change and alter his course of action. What was happening to Barricade? Though sudden, it was similiar to what he experienced while facing off with several of Cade's former comrades. He had seen so many sparks go out on the battlefield- some by his own doing and some by the servos of others- so what was one more? The fact was that Barricade hadn't done anything to him. Even though he was a former con, he was trying to be a civil as his programming probably allowed. What had he done wrong? Nothing, except to become a neutral. To not stand for either side almost seemed worse to Jazz than standing with the opposing team.
Still. The worth of this con and his choice to change? Though it wasn't in the direction that Jazz had hoped and one could never fully trust a Decepticon...
Jazz made his decision.
"Barricade!" Jazz called out his designation as he arrived at the side of the fallen mech. The flailing about had stopped him from being able to get in close immediately, but the moment that he was able to he had ducked under those clawed servos and made his way in. Now he was knelt at his side, one servo to his shoulder as he attempted to pull him into a sitting position. Jazz was by no way a strong mech- built for speed instead of brawn- but when he was determined enough? Things could happen even in the most unlikely of ways. He would pull, stressing out his own joints in the process but trying to in spite of it. The pulsing from his spark was intense and he could almost hear the pinging that his gave while he was close to the former con, but for now he ignored it in order to deal with the matter at hand.
Once the larger mech was sitting up, Jazz would stay crouched there at his side and keep that servo on his shoulder while the other held onto his forearm so he could haul him back up in the case he started to go down again. It was difficult like this, though.
Maybe sometimes Jazz was too trusting, or perhaps it was the song in his spark that drove him further. Whatever it was, he pushed all logic and reasoning aside and eased his way under the arm of the mech so that it was drawn across his shoulders, then braced his lower frame and stood, hoisting the the other so he would be up with him.
"To your pedes, man. Gotta get ya sittin' up so I can better look at ya." He didn't know if Barricade heard him or would register his order- used to giving them to his troops on the field as Optimus's acting third in command- but he moved anyway. If Cade didn't assist it would be much more of a struggle, if he did? Bonus assistance. Either way he would manage his way to the closest chair so he could settle him into it. At least sitting him up he could look him over easier and see if there was some injury that he could perhaps do a field patch on until better medical help could be given, or if he had to immediately call Ratchet because the condition was too great.
He snapped his digits in Barricade's face. "Hey! Ya registerin' me? Stay with me."
All the while his spark was stressing out, recognizing the distress of Barricade's own and singing out to it in fear of something happening. It didn't know that it wasn't Prowl's spark that was there, but Jazz knew that it wasn't. He would have taken the time to silence it's song as it oddly called out to the former con's but right now his attention was elsewhere.
Jazz was, after all, right up close to Barricade so if the mech decided to lash out he would have to rely on his reflexes to be fast enough to get him out of the way.
He heard someone calling him by name, some voice that was far off from where his mind had gone. It was oddly quiet there and he didn't like it at all. He knew he should be fighting, should be giving everything he had to fight against his fate, but somehow he couldn't manage much. He had nothing left to give, he finally realized. He'd been fighting the deterioration of the integrity of his spark for as long as he could remember, certainly since leaving the Decepticon army. Still the sound, the voice that had called him, that was worth giving a bit of effort towards, wasn't it?
The former 'con was limp in Jazz's grasp as he was moved around into a sitting position, no reaction or sign of life leaving him other than the fact that his optics were still lit, if dim. It was the order that finally got him, as it had been the kick that had knocked him flat. "I...will try." He finally managed it past the warning messages telling him he was in full failure. If that were so then he should already be dead, all systems shutting down as his spark gave. But...instead it was like he was stuck there, spark in pain and unable to function more than the smallest amount. Was this Jazz's doing? Or was there more to this situation than he believed?
Still, Barricade planted his pedes as far apart as he could and used Jazz to leverage himself onto his pedes while the other lifted him that way. That close his spark wailed helplessly at the spy's, as if that would somehow make things better. With Jazz against his side his spark was plastered against the side the smaller mech was on inside his chassis, as if trying to get closer to the mech. He was too out of it to really process this phenomenon, or he'd have been pissed.
Optics brightened slightly at the snapping in his face. "I am trying, Jazz." A shudder ran through the big mech, weakness clawing its way through his frame. His head dropped to Jazz's shoulder and stayed there, intakes working sluggishly to cool his overheating systems. "Not sure there's....anything you can do." The shuddering went again, but the warnings were fewer this time. "Trying to do as you ask, might not have the strength." Really, leaning against him was slowly putting strength back into his frame, which was the oddest sensation he had ever felt.
As the strength slowly returned to his frame Barricade became steadily more coherent, enough to do as he'd been told and plop his aft into a chair. "Thought for sure you would simply end me and leave."
@jazz
"I'm the bad cop. Don't bother to ask for the good cop, I killed him."
Jazz allowed for Barricade to lean on him for as long as he wanted, given that it seemed to get him some sort of stability. He didn't know what was going on internally with the mech, but he knew that in his own spark chamber? That little annoyance was singing the happiest tune ever at being acknowledged. The feeling was super weird but Barricade seemed to not notice it so he didn't want to draw attention to the issue either.
Once he was sat upright Jazz went to work trying to figure out what he could or should do about this. He couldn't bring him back to Autobot base because that was just so far out of the question that it wasn't even a consideration. The other option was Ratchet, and he wasn't quite ready to call him considering the way he had left up out of the medic's medbay to begin with, taking who knows who down if they crossed his path. This was a really bad situation to be in.
"End you and leave? Why? Cause your ol' Con buddies pull that scrap? Sorry, but the Bots try a little harder to care about one another. I ain't gonna just senseless offline ya. For one, ya ain't done nothin' to me- save for the could of scuffs in my paint. And for two? Thanks, I'm a bot, not a con." Jazz scoffed some, insulted at the implication, and leaned in close to Barricade again, ignoring he pull of his spark to get close to the familiar pulse of the other's spark.
The fact that his spark was pretty much flirting around with Barricade's spark ( even though Jazz's believed that the spark belonged to Prowl ) should have been hint enough that he was not bonded to the tactician. Though it craved to be and let out small pings of sadness at being kept from where it wanted to go. It carried all the cravings to bond over its song, singing those silent words to Barricade.
"Do ya got a medic I can call? Cause all I got is Ratchet."
"A soldier that is too injured or weak to be of use is either destroyed and scrapped for parts or left behind to deactivate from their weakness or be overtaken by the enemy." He tilted his helm to one side, watching Jazz intently once more. This Autobot was an odd one, his ideas were new to the former 'con and made no sense to him on a personal level. He was a soldier, easily replaced, so what did it matter if he believed that the black and white mech now aiding him, who was essentially an enemy soldier, wouldn't kill him?
His spark made a musical series of tones at the spy, and he didn't have the strength to make it stop. "I would never blame you if you had simply ended me. I was an enemy to you, a Decepticon. It would have made sense." He vented lowly and let himself ease more into the chair, closing the warning messages as they came up.
The hard core flirting going on between their sparks told Barricade that perhaps the little mech wasn't bonded after all. Interesting. Didn't mean he was going to flirt with him himself, not actively. But he couldn't control the chirping going on from his spark, not in the state he was in at present.
His strength was coming back in small increments, power reserves stabilizing and the failure receding. "Someone crushed my spark chamber, it is why I defected." He offered. "So no, I have no one I can call. That was why I contacted your Prime."
@jazz
"I'm the bad cop. Don't bother to ask for the good cop, I killed him."
"Shh." Jazz turned a servo to the side and covered the other mech's mouth with it. He didn't push the palm in hard, afraid that any movement like that would perhaps hurt him further. It was after he had silenced Barricade that he leaned in closer, bringing his faceplate to the other side of his servo as he stared at him. "That is your former kind, not mine." He tilted his helm forward so that he could rest his forehelm right against Barricade's. "I don't believe in offlinin' someone when then ain't done a thing to justify such a cruel act. So please don't group me in with... such mechs, yeah? I try really hard to be myself and I hate it when I'm put in a category."
With his words said he should have been able to pull away and yet? He lingered. Perhaps it was the heavy flirting that their sparks were doing that had drawn Jazz in. The comfort of being able to hear such a familiar song and not have to be on eggshells when falling into the bliss gave him a comfort that was almost too much to ignore. As he shifted in closer, his free servo pressed to the chair just to the side of Barricade's helm and he kept his bland expression locked onto the larger mech before him. The intensity in his spark's pulses increased and he felt his faceplate warm up some just under his visor. A blush?
Then movement. There were small shifts in the lights of his visor, indicating that he was processing everything around him and... who really knew what else. It was only stuff he could see anyway, his way of being able to see. So everything that went on behind that visor was up to secrecy. Almost realizing what was going on, Jazz kicked his vents on high gear to cool his systems and he started t pull away.
"Uh... sorry. Um. So if ya contacted Prime... heard anythin' back? Maybe I outta take ya to base or call Ratchet..."
Okay, this was weird. This wasn't Prowl- no where close. So why was his spark playing the capable game with him as well when that was supposed to be limited to just one mech per mech? Or were the stories he heard incorrect? Was there a chance to have two? But... two that sang the same way...?
He wasn't sure why it was that Jazz was being...somewhat kind to him. It wasn't something he was used to. In the Decepticon army, for those that served Lord Megatron, if you were weak you were destroyed. Only the strong were worthy to serve. All others were cannon fodder, left to take the brunt of attack on the field so that those stronger could preserve their strength and numbers for what was left after the fact. And Barricade was a front line soldier, made for sheer brute strength and viciousness. He just happened to also be a halfway decent scout and tactician as well.
Red optics brightened a tad in surprise when Jazz shushed him, looking bewildered and a little out of his depth for a long moment before he hid it. "I never label, I simply use what data I have on hand." And why was he trying to make his train of thought understood exactly? He didn't know the answer to that either, and so he was left to wonder.
But Jazz was far too close to him now, and clawed hands dug against the arms of the chair he was seated in as his spark continued to chime happily at Jazz's. It was, perhaps, the comfort of a healthy spark when his own was losing the battle with life. He knew he had to get help or he was going to die. There was no denying that at this point, nor was there any fighting against it. He either got to a medic fast, or he was on borrowed time. The next minor stressor was likely to do him in, which was why he had come to the Harbringer in the first place. To be away from stress, to stay out of the line of fire. He just had to await a call back from Optimus. Last a few more days, a few more weeks, however long it took Prime to remember and call him again. He could wait. He could manage, he always had.
"What is it about you, I wonder, that causes this reaction?" He asked of the other, finally letting one hand loose from its death grip on the chair to palm the side of Jazz's helm. His spark cooed, though rather it was doing so for his sake or for Jazz's he didn't know. Either way, in this moment, he was content.
He snapped out of his own thoughts when Jazz pulled away from him, hearing the loud vocal whine that worked his way out of his systems without his saying so. "A dying spark often reaches out for comfort." He offered to the other, looking at one of the screens across from him. Was he embarrassed? Yes. Was he going to give any indication of that to the black and white mech before him? Absolutely not.
"I spoke to your Prime some time ago, I am simply waiting for word back." He finally looked back to the other mech. "And just how much trouble would that cause, bringing a former Decepticon onto the Autobot base? I am very likely to be shot." He vented, pushing down that fierce paranoia that had kept him alive for so long. "Ratchet is the one I have been trying to get to this entire time. I stole First Aide some time back, for the less delicate repairs. I believe your CMO is the only mech on this little mudball that can help me now."
Jazz heard the whine from the other mech and right away felt bad for moving away. There was a part of him that didn't want to move away, and all of him that knew that he was playing with fire. This was a former Decepticon, so there was no way that his spark would be compatible! Their choice of faction alone should have swayed any of that rumored 'perfect mate' thing. Unless that just wasn't the case at all. Though if Prowl had done the research? Then what he found had to be true. There was no way Prowl would settle to speak of incorrect information. Though how could there be more than one 'perfect mate' when he was right here facing another that pulsed in tune the same way the tactician's did.
There was no way he could deny his confusion. Though he couldn't deny the crave to be touched again. The touch came from Prowl even though it wasn't him who delivered it, and his spark had almost erupted in it's chamber. The way that his frame trembled and his spark pulsed at the small gesture was the same way he did when Prowl touched him- even in the slightest of way. The feeling of Cade's servo lingered on the side of his helm and a small whine came from him as he touched the spot himself. While Barricade was talking, only half of what he said was evening registering. He was still in close enough that the distance was closed quickly and before Barricade finished his final sentence Jazz had slid himself into the larger mech's lap and sat there.
Facing the former con, his servos went to his chassis right above where the apparent damaged spark chamber lay. Beneath there lay the culprit responsible for this mess, the thing that was pulling Jazz in and driving his processor crazy. Digits were delicately touching the metal, tracing the seams. He couldn't look up at Barricade, at least not now, as his warming faceplate hinted to the blush that was forming. Instead he diverted his gaze to random places on the floor around them.
"I hope Primus strikes down whoever hurt your spark chamber. If you're really not wantin' to be a con no more? Then I'm glad ya got out. I ain't gonna let nothin' hurt ta. If i gotta take ya to base, then I'll get ya in no problem. Don' worry."
Compatible? Did the little mech really believe that, he wondered. It would explain things, for certain, but other than that made no sense in the grand scheme of things. They really weren't all that compatible, but then....He thought on it again.
Aside from their obvious choice to go onto different sides of the war he and Jazz actually did compliment each other very well. He was made for striking hard, while Jazz was fast and compact, making up for his lack. The hunter sparked mech had the horrible realization that he may have just met his true partner. Hunters were always either twins or a mated pair, so when he had been sparked solo he'd figured he'd find his partner someday. But...Jazz didn't run the same protocols he did, nor was he in the proper size range to be his partner. The differences between them was too great for his partner, so then what was going on?
The little mech moved in such a way that made his spark purr in contentment, something he'd thought impossible for himself. Red optics blazed in confusion, brightening as he gave the little mech in his lap the longest look. And being touched against his chassis made him flinch, his frame lurching backward a little before settling down. He had wanted to lash out, but his spark protested even the thought and he didn't have the strength to fight that sensation. So Jazz got to stay.
He wasn't sure what he wanted to do with this situation. He couldn't see himself just dumping the other mech to the ground, but nor could he just allow the other to remain as he was. His instincts said he should, but he didn't want to. Or...he did want to leave the other be, but something inside him insisted he at least try and fight the content sensation rolling in his spark. Some part of him was protesting, loudly.
Barricade vented lowly, cursing his spark as it tried valiantly to coo and sing for the spy's spark, flirting for all it was worth. It...it was a soothing sensation, a balm over the injuries within. And he also knew that, while it was trying, his spark was only temporarily stable.
"I have no idea if I smote the fragger that tried to end me, but I hope I did. If not then someone on the Decepticon side knows I have defected and wants me dead. So Primus striking that mech down would be advantageous to me." His head tipped more and his frame shifted in the chair so that Jazz would be comfortable. It was odd how well the other fit in against him. He was a little bit distracted. Well...a lot of bit distracted, but still.
"Cade. If you stay calm, your spark won't jump. The less stress, the better." Jazz's voice was just above a whisper as he spoke to the former 'Con before him. Yes, he had heard his words and wanted the mech to keep talking so he could try and at least keep him conscious considering the stir that Jazz's spark had gotten only mere moments ago when the larger mech had been on the floor. It seemed he was better now that he was sitting up, but Jazz still knew there was an issue that would need to be addressed soon. He just wanted to keep him as calm and focused as possible.
That didn't mean that he wanted him upset. Though it seemed that the situation he had put Barricade in was doing its job with keeping him distracted. Even though it hadn't been the main reason for why he was doing all of this, it did add as a very good reasoning. He could at least keep the first reason hidden from Barricade should all of this be questioned.
All the while he had been looking around at the floor, almost ashamed to look at Barricade. He knew who he wanted to be with and who his spark sung for and he felt as though he was betraying Prowl by letting his spark pull him this way. He couldn't help it! His spark wasn't listening, Barricade's was singing back to his own, and as far as matters of the spark went? Barricade seemed a lot more responsive to Jazz's advances and that wasn't even Jazz's frame talking. His spark mistook Barricade's spark song as Prowl's and was fluttering in happiness at the touches and apparent positive reception it was having.
The saboteur looked up to make optic contact with Barricade in reaction to him shifting so that he could be more comfortable. He hadn't been shoved away yet so he just slid in closer by demand of his pulling spark. Jazz shifted to sit on his knees which kept to the straddling position and were on either side of Barricade's hips, then lifted both arms to rest them on his shoulders. This in turn ended up with Jazz's faceplate only inches from Barricade's own, his visor dulling some in consideration of not wanting to actually blind him, with his frame pretty much against the Hunter's. He didn't dare move beyond that, content with being like this for the sake of his spark which carried a calming, much more mellow song to the other's.
"Your spark is a wild one, Cade. But I got it. See if keepin' it focused on mine steadies it any."
"This is as calm as I come, I assure you." He wasn't lying either. His systems were on idle, functioning but not really straining in even the slightest sense. His perception of the weight against his frame was more comforting than constraining, and thankfully didn't set off his instincts as if he were trapped. That had certainly happened before, having a mech that close to his chassis causing a reaction like that.
The former 'con wondered why it was he was taking this so remarkably calmly, when anyone else he was sure would have been on the bad side of his violent tendencies. He still could turn against the smaller mech, probably kill him pinned in against him like this, but he didn't want to. His need to do violence against those that were against him was still there, but Jazz hadn't done anything to warrant his wrath. Absolutely nothing.
It was an odd sensation, his spark being so content so close to another's spark. He wondered if this was what it felt like to be bonded to someone. And if so he wasn't sure if he liked it or not. It was a weakness in a time of war that couldn't be allowed, but...having someone to fight for, someone worth fighting his way back to? That was more than worth the weakness. He considered the little mech with a different look than he'd given him before. He wasn't in any way interested in Jazz, didn't know him or like him. So it wasn't like he was going to actively act on what his spark was teasing him with. Still, in this moment, he could certainly pretend for a little while. It made his spark settle and gain strength, so the illusion could continue a little while longer.
When Jazz moved so that they made optic contact the hunter tipped his helm again, this time in the other direction. The other shifting in closer to him made his spark jump determinedly forward, which made him wince as it pulled in pain due to the injuries within.
Wild? Him? Absolutely. "You have no idea." And focused? He could do that. Or maybe...."Let me see if I can..." His optics dimmed, going off entirely as his frame went still. Not limp, and his intakes and slight shifting of his frame said he was still conscious, just concentrating. Then, after a few minutes, a musical tone erupted from his spark, slowly gaining volume until it could easily be heard within the room.
"You...ah...you like music don't you?" And yes, for some reason, that mattered.
@jazz
"I'm the bad cop. Don't bother to ask for the good cop, I killed him."
Jazz knew exactly what Cade could do to him if he wanted, but still the smaller mech trusted the other to keep his calm and not to lash out at him. Should this have been a trap, the springs would have been sprung and the saboteur would have been caught right in it before he could even react. Cade was giving him the benefit of not making this a dangerous situation, so Jazz would return the favor and do what he could to settle the spark of the other.
He saw the wince that was made when Jazz had moved closer to him and internally made a note to not do that one again. He would remain where he was, though, as not to stir up trouble and make Cade's spark try and reach for his even more. There was an usually pressure down the front of his chassis just over his spark chamber but he pushed it aside and focused on the here and now.
Cade was his patient, in a weird sense. Until he could find some way to get a hold of Ratchet, Jazz would tend to the former con the best he could given his lack of medical training and limited work with field repair. The spark trick seemed to be working, so he would just play this game for now.
Then the music started. At first it was soft while Cade was trying to do that focus thing, but when it got loud enough to fill the room? Oh, Jazz's frame trembled in delight and he tilted his helm back so he was staring at the ceiling. His spark was dancing in its chamber, singing and pulsing in rhythm to what it heard and felt. The saboteur did his best to not respond, trying to hold his composure in the awkward position his frame was in.
"I... yeah. Love it. It's... guess ya could say it's my life. I haven't played my own in a long while. I only do that... when I'm happy." Jazz bit down on his lip, his frame straining. "Haven't... been happy in a long time..."
Oh, he tried so hard to stay still, but try as he might? Still, Jazz couldn't help himself and he found his frame swaying a bit after he pulled away some from Cade's frame. His arms were still on his shoulders and he kept his legs at the sides of the thighs con he pretty much was sitting in the lap of, but the small space between them would prevent scuffed paint and unnecessary friction from his moving around to the rhythm that filled the air around him.
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