Tailgate walked the halls of the Lost Light, a light skip added to his steps as he hummed a tune. Coming from his own hab suite, he was on his way towards Swerve's bar for a drink or two and to delight in some company with friends. Recently finishing another Primal Vernacular session with his roommate Cyclonus, the minibot couldn't help but allow his thoughts drift back to the lessons they had just gone over for the past 3 cycles.

His vocabulary was certainly improving as he was now able to form simple sentences and hold a basic conversation if the words proved to be manageable for the minibot to engage in. His accent was terrible-even he had to admit it-but his efforts were undeniable. He'd always stick to one word no matter how many times he repeated it until he was able to say it in an acceptable manner that had even Cyclonus patting him on the helm with a soft look in his crimson optics. He loved the appraisal that he was given by the old warrior whenever he accomplished something, it left a warm feeling running through his systems that remained for a good 5 cycles. He'd always tried to earn the mech's approval no matter what he was doing. Cyclonus was a difficult mech to impress and seldom showed his thoughts no matter what situation he was in, thus Tailgate sought to make it his mission to draw out every emotion the mech possessed whenever he could-most of the time its the negative emotions like annoyance and frustration.

However, Tailgate refused to let that hinder his resolve to building a true relationship with the old warrior, being one of the only people who he felt a strong connection to. He's able to classify certain characteristics that not many others see when it comes to the purple mech. Sure in the exterior Cyclonus seems to be the kind of lonesome mech that prefers the company of his privacy than with other people, but Tailgate sees a mech that simply doesn't connect too fondly within the popular crowd and has some difficulty finding a common ground with others. Being a much older mech than the majority, his interests differ with most; this added with the fact of his continuous grief for the loss of Tetrahex. Because of this, Tailgate is determined to find that resolution to his grief and allow him to finally integrate into society once again.

His thoughts then drifted to near the end of the session where Tailgate, in a sudden bit of irrationality, asked Cyclonus if he could sing him another song in Primal Vernacular. The last time he sang one was when the mini was recovering from his case of cybercrosis. After seeing the shocked look given to him, Tailgate immediately interpreted it as a sign that the mech had no intention of fulfilling such an outlandish request and that the previous event was just a one-time thing. Fumbling with his apology, Tailgate was about to retract his request when Cyclonus asked what type of song he'd like to listen to. Feeling giddy once again with a new-found joy, Tailgate insisted that any song was fine and for the rest of the session, he sat on Cyclonus' birth as he listened to the mech vocalizing an old war song. It was then that he vowed that he would work even harder to someday master the language so he may understand all the lyrics to Cyclonus' wonderful songs.

Now renewed with a sense of purpose, Tailgate added more vigor to his steps as he continued his path towards the bar. However, he was once again distracted when he heard a voice resonating from the wall to his left. Coming to a complete stop, Tailgate waited, deciphering if he merely imagined the voice in his processor but then he heard it again. This time, the mini traced the noise to be from the only room around his area. If memory served correct, Rung's room was the only one isolated from the rest since he was the ship's psychiatrist.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Tailgate pressed his audio receptor against the door and listened. His visor widened at immediately realizing that not only was the voice singing, but the lyrics were in Primal Vernacular!

Spark splaying rapidly and senses entirely focused on the voice, Tailgate slowly opened the door as carefully as he could as to not disturb the melody. Fortunately, the door was unlocked since it logically was welcome to all visitors, allowing Tailgate to peek in his little helm through the small crevice that he made. It hadn't fully occurred to him that this was Rung's office and that the only person who could possibly claim ownership to that voice was RUNG of all people should have been a shock to him. At the moment, his main focus was looking for the mech in question and solving the mystery as to the source of the singing voice.

His optics searched the room until it landed on the back of a chair displayed behind a large desk, hiding the mech sitting in it. The voice was obviously resonating from whoever was sitting on that chair, but whose form was completely covered by it. Tailgate strained to see past the annoyance that was the chair and shifted the door a little more so he could walk into the room. He froze when he saw the chair suddenly swing side to side as the voice continued its serenade. Eventually, the chair made a full swing bringing whoever was in it to face the desk-and the door.

Rung, optics closed and with a small open smile on his face, finished the last verse of the song with a soft hum, carrying the tune for a full klik before opening his optics with a satisfied look on his faceplate.

Only to suddenly become frozen in shock as he caught sight of his door partially open and partially concealing an equally frozen Tailgate staring back at him with an equally shocked expression.

Both mechs stared at each other for what seemed like several kliks, neither willing and just too afraid to break the awkward silence that befell upon the room. Suddenly Tailgate, as if suddenly being poked by one of Whirl's pincers, jerked in place and scrambled for a quick apology.

"Sorry for disturbing you! I just heard you from across the hall and-I mean I wasn't loitering or anything-I was just walking and I heard your voice and I didn't know whose it was and I was curious and I never heard anyone sing in Primal Vernacular before-other than Cyclonus-and I was really, really curious and I really liked your voice and-Oh Primus I sound like a creep don't I? I'm REALLY SORRY! I promise I won't come in without asking again. I'm really sorry! BYE!"

A swift slam of the door signified the minibot's retreat, leaving Rung to ponder over what in the pits just happened.