If it were anyone else so casually picking up the carefully-arranged datapads from his desk and reading them, Prowl would have thrown them out of his office immediately.
But this was Jazz. And the tactician has already learnt that Jazz was full of restless energy; always moving, always doing something, rarely actually being still. It was a complete opposite of Prowl himself, and in a way, it was quite fascinating to watch.
Which was something the tactician was doing now, blue optics following the other mech’s movements.
“I thought so,” was a flat response, though there might have been a glimmer of something suspiciously close to amusement in the black and white Praxian’s optics. “Perhaps I should send Ratchet a note that our Third in Command suffers from desperate loneliness then.”
And there was this suspicious glimmer again. The tactician was definitely teasing his friend in his own way, once again hoping that his sense of humour will be understood. Still, when Jazz admitted he truly wanted Prowl’s company, his optics shifted away for just a moment, before there was a small nod followed by the most subtle flick of the doorwings.
That response might not have been the most enthusiastic, but the saboteur’s words certainly warmed the Praxian’s spark. They always did.
“Let me clarify. You need a bribe in order to do paperwork,” Prowl’s optics narrowed briefly. “It is not entirely legal and you are the worst Officer I have ever known.”
Except the tactician wasn’t being serious and his processor was already focusing on the other black and white’s offer. Sometimes it was hard to say no to his friend.
Rec room might be a bit crowded or at least noisy at this hour, which wasn’t exactly something Prowl looked forward to, but perhaps his favourite table in the corner will not be occupied. Besides, Jazz wanted to spend some time with him, which actually aligned perfectly with what the tactician himself wanted. And Jazz seemed to enjoy such lively places.
“Ah, yes. It sounds…acceptable.” A pause, blue optics looking straight into the other’s visor. “On one condition. You will then do paperwork in my office.” Another pause. “So I can…make sure you are actually working.”
Or, perhaps, so they could simply spend more time together.
Restless energy, always changing, always moving. Those were traits that came with the name Jazz. Always improv, changing, fluid, new, yet familiar with every beat striking it’s own cord. Plus if Jazz couldn’t seem to help himself, but did his job well, where was the harm?
Jazz threw his helm back slightly with a warm laugh at the banter calmly said back eagerly catching that glimmer of amusement in Prowl’s gaze. A dance of their own. Each striking a beat, and seeing if the other could not only match it but keep up. Jazz had come to love it. In truth the Polyhexian had come to-- well, let’s just say he was overly fond of the Praxian with icy blue gaze fixed on him.
“Desperate loneliness?” Jazz quoted, sitting down with a graceful flop into the chair across from Prowl, “That’s a good one, and honestly Ratchet might just send me back to ya. Cause the way to cure loneliness is, well, do what we are doin’ now.” A black servo gestured back and forth between them before resting that arm on the desk with a wide smile.
Said wide smile turned cheeky with a playful, yet mischievous glint to his visor, “Oh thats such a strong label. Bribery. I told ya Prowler, it’s an incentive. And ya wound me,” Jazz pulled back for effect resting his servo over his spark, “I think you meant, best officer ya know.”
When Prowl said yes-- in his weird, quirky, professional, yet no less adorable way-- Jazz’s smile brightened once more with a flutter of his spark. Only to pause at the one condition then laughing softly, “Ya got a deal.” Jazz held out his servo to officially shake on it.
