He knew she was there, like always. It became easier and easier with every noted effort to keep silent. A movement would catch his optic, or a subtle half-vent, or an all too brief flash of color. Now it was customary to scan the corners for her presence.
Megatron saw her when he entered the room, gave her a cursory nod, and went about his business. By now, filing reports was simply busy work. He doubted anyone would actually care of the work was done or not, but it kept his servos occupied and his processor set on the task.
But it was still incredibly boring.
[[Anything of interest going on?]] he asked after a time had passed.
[ :: If t͘he̡r̵e̶ w̛a͡s͢, ҉I wou̸l̀dn't̕ bé ̕wat͜ch̕in̷g ͠y̡ou woŕk so ͡aŗde̵ntl͢y ̀ón ̢f͏i͘ling̀ ͜s̕il̶ly r̶e̸p͏oŗts.͟ :: ] She responds, almost in amusement.
Her frame twists and turns as she climbs down from the ledge, digits digging into the piping that snakes to the floor until her pedes hit the ground. She's almost meticulous about how she does this, always cautios, always ready to be a simple second away from a vent to escape into if she was in the presence of company she didn't wish to keep. Still, she felt that for now, The Warlord was to be left alone.
She could sense that about him, something was off.
She brushes the debris off her shoulder plating, visor falling down to protect mutated optics from the rays of the artificial light above her, turning to look up at him as she stood beside him.
She was silent, still contemplating if perhaps she could be good company at all, and if she really cared.
[ :: No,̶ L҉ord ͞M͢e̵ga̛t͘ro̢n̕, fo̧r̶ ͡on͜ce you̸r̴ ̀sh̷ip i͢s ̨as̢ q̕ui͝e͏t̀ as̸ ̀yo̶u ̸sȩem ͝to be :: ]
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