The one thing he hated most was being pressured.
That, and certain pink femme-bots who wouldn't get their olfactory sensors out of certain mechs business. Jazz groaned and slapped his servo to his forehead, rubbing it over his weary face.
"Come on Jazz, the whole base is sick of you ogling that black and white Datsun. How long has it been? Three orns? That's over one Earth month! Every sane 'bot aboard the Ark knows that this isn't how the Jazz-Meister rolls. I'll bet you that if it was anyone but 'Prowler', you would have already-"
Jazz took a deep breath in from his intakes and let it out in a hefty sigh, allowing Arcee to prattle on while he stared into his morning energon. He swished it around in its cube and watched it slosh against the sides, deep in his thoughts. He was quickly snapped back to reality, literally, when Arcee noticed the spaced out look in Jazz's visor and decided to snap her fingers in front of his face.
"Hello? Earth to Jazz? Pay attention!" She then smacked him upside the helm. Crossing her servos over her chest, she pouted and glared at Jazz. "As I was saying…I could help with getting you two together. You know, play the little mechmaker. You've hooked up plenty of 'bots! It's only fair one of us returns the favour. What do you say?"
"Look Arcee, and this ain't nothin' against ya, but I don't need no 'bot goin' 'n tryin' ta hook me up with Prowler. Prowlie. Prowl. Can ya just drop it already? I'm doin' perfectly fine pursing Prowler by m'self, a'ight?" He had bothered to look up from his energon to glare at Arcee by this point, who had a knowing look on her faceplates.
"Okay Jazz. I respect your wishes." An exasperated sigh vented from her intakes. Then, just like that, Arcee walked away from the sofa and out of the Rec room, much to Jazz's surprise.
"Huh. I expected more protestin'." With a swift shrug of his shoulders, he took a quick gulp from his energon and rested his head in a servo, pondering on how to go about courting Prowl. This was going to be one long orbital cycle.