"Optimus Prime… I-I would be honored, sir," Ultra Magnus said, awestruck.
Optimus bowed his helm, a smiled drawn across his faceplate. "I will inaugurate you this evening, old friend." And with that, Optimus released his friend's shoulderpad, exiting to prepare for tonight's endeavors.
He could feel it. It was unusual to have such a… pleasurable feeling inside his spark. A tingling sensation of recognition. But Magnus was on edge, in all honesty. His most trusted leader had finally appointed a law abiding Cybertronian, the most loyal Autobot ever to walk this or any planet, to the second most desired position. And while he was pleased it was him… this would be the biggest responsibility appointed to him ever. However… he let his helm fall lightly as he turned to leave, folding his servos behind himself. His internals clenched lightly out of happiness, although none showed externally. Primus, the amount of reading he'd have to do on leadership… he could almost taste the workload now. Delightfully palatable.
Regardless, he'd tame his excitable state now so he would be able to preen for the ceremony the coming evening, decorating his armor with his medals and such. Primus knew he was proud of those.
Ultra stood in front of the mirror for quite a while, polishing his blue armor until he deemed himself presentable. Then again, he would grab the next cloth up with the heavier cleansers and clean again. His servos stroked across the regions he waxed and buffed, feeling the silky metal delicately with his black digits. After that he'd polish his digits and repeat the cycle. Obsessive? No, simply thorough.
After an hour of extreme cleaning he decided to lower the cloth to his desk. The lieutenant turned in his chair, venting as he brought his servo to his helm. The stress was setting in already; he could not falter now. He had just begun his quest, something that would put him in charge of almost as many field troops and training squadrons as Optimus Prime himself.
Ultra Magnus felt more honored than he could ever show to his leader. How could Optimus choose him? Well, hmmf how could he not? He was more loyal than anybot else, he followed every single rule. But Magnus still… he still respected him. Very much so.
Optimus did hand pick him after all and he watched over the training sessions himself. Now that pressure… that was difficult. Magnus was younger then, not by much but enough to see the difference. He was weaker, more subject to peer pressure hence the night cycle he was overcharged out of his processor.
The blue mech shook his helm as he cringed. Awful disobedience, he scolded himself. The new first lieutenant took the cloth in his servos, fumbling with it before folding it into a neat square. Perhaps it was more rectangular…
Venting once more, Ultra Magnus looked to the clock.
"Eighteen-hundred hours…" he muttered into the mirror, looking himself in the optics. The bright azure of his optics blurred the contours of his faceplate. He shook his helm slightly, the corner of his mouth curving into a smirk. Many a time he was stopped on the streets of Iaacon by mechs wondering how 'such a lovely bot could be alone on a day like this' or a day like 'that.' Now, every single bot was intimidated by his presence. He became a government official, to what little government they had now. Some who strolled by replaced compliments with derogatory statements about his being a 'petty official.'
Ultra Magnus shut his optics, sitting back up to head for his shared washrack, but his neighbor wasn't in. He was probably helping Optimus Prime in the next building. Rodimus was a good kid. Meant well.
Flipping the dials to the precise temperatures, Ultra Magnus slid in, slicking his servos down his frame to rid himself of the shiny fragments of polishing agent he administered earlier. Pinching a piece in his servo, he analyzed it critically under the water. Maybe it had expired.
Minutes into the wash, the large mech was just about finished. Rodimus always pointed out that he was a quick cleaner. But he had time to spare before the ceremony. Lots of time in fact. Magnus peered out of his rack to gaze at the clock in the other room.
"Hmh…" he grunted. His thick, deep voice reverberated off the rack's walls, easily hearable under the rush of the water as Rodimus had always told him. So much time, so much to-… well, so little to do really. He lathered and repeated more than once. Now what was there to do?
Do it again.