“Er your highness? Are you alright? You seem rather tense, and you're putting off a lot of -” | Before the Eradicon can finish his sentence, Ark cuts the drone off by ‘accidentally’ knocking their datapad out of their servos. The loud clatter of the device against the floor brings the chatter at the front of the room abruptly to a halt. | | The Lord Commander turns from the councilmech he was speaking with and stares at Arkaitimus and the drone at his side. Before Starscream can open his mouth, however, the Vehicon stutters out an apology, grabs the tablet off the ground and scrambles back to their post by the door. | | Bewildered, Starscream turns his gaze to Arkaitimus, who calmly meets the glare of his Sire and offers up what he hopes to be a placating shrug. | | While not the reaction the gunmetal seeker was wanting, it’s enough to satisfy him for the moment. He gives his rigidly posed offspring one final sweep with his optics before turning away with a dismissive wing flick. | | Once he’s sure his Sire’s attention is off him and the two noblemech are reabsorbed back into their conversation, Arkaitimus lets out a ‘sigh’ of relief. He allows himself a moment to regain his nerve before letting his optics drop to the datapad in servos. Or as he would call it ‘the source of his current problem’. | | On screen was a messaging app, the private channel belonging to himself and a certain centaurian youth still open. Upon re reading the last few messages, the prince feels a rush of heat start to trickle back through his system. Before that heat could show on his facia though, the youngling quickly closes out of the app, drops the datapad into his subspace and wills his focus elsewhere. | | There would be time to process that reaction and maybe explore it’s meaning at a later date. But here and now in the vicinity of his Sir, one of New Iacon’s council members and their guards in a public meeting room? | | Not a chance. |
