ludomania started following you
The voice is so, so familiar that it’s only instinct to respond. Someone says something, say something back. After all, that’s the only polite thing to do. Smokescreen doesn’t even peek at the frequency number, doesn’t take the time to even glance offhandedly at the coordinates of the message’s origin. He just laughs out a response, holding the drag of smoke from his cygar back and chewing on the end.
"What, and stick around for that sorry shit show? Now, sweet spark, you know me better than that."
It takes him a beat, the time between spark pulses to really recognize the voice. He’s not thinking too hard when he pulls up the vid screen and glares into it, pouting at the other mech, optics glowing fiercely and holding himself proudly, sitting as tall and threatening as he can when he’s got a hangover clinging to him like cons at a pit prize fight.
"And even if I was, you think I’d give you the time of day? Sorry schmuck like you, I don’t think so."
Okay, so maybe he was kind of hoping that Smokescreen would be on Cybertron. That doesn't seem to be the case, but he's actually totally okay with that. Absolutely. Yeah-huh.
Alright, yeah, he misses the slagger.
"Didn't talk like that before you left, big shot. I didn't realize you went and linked arms with Hot Rod," Onslaught provokes, and continues, "and survived the fireworks."