As soon as the dust cleared Smokescreen relaxed his frame somewhat, lowering his gun as he surveyed the destruction. Each target was nothing more than a metal stump embedded in the ground, which for him was just perfect. Perceptor's modifications had certainly lived up to his expectations. He would be sure to thank the scientist later.

Turning away from what was left of the targets he began walking back to the Ark. He walked it for two reasons: one that the distance was barely worth transforming for and two, sometimes using his own two legs felt far nicer than his wheels. In the distance, he could see Jazz and Sideswipe walking out of the Ark, likely on morning patrol duty. Sideswipe started waving, obviously he'd noticed Smokescreen out there and likely wanted to tell him something, or ask some inane question as he was prone to do. Smokescreen picked up speed a little, waving back in acknowledgement.

When Smokescreen had closed the distance between himself and the other two he smiled at them, "Hello Sideswipe, Jazz."

"Hey, Smokescreen" replied Sideswipe, smiling as he often did. Even during a battle, Sideswipe often smiled, except when being shot at. None of the autobots did, none were masochistic enough to.

Smokescreen returned the smile, "You know Sideswipe, it's obvious you want to ask me something."

"Am I really that obvious?" Sideswipe replied, his voice full of mock hurt.

"Obvious as Omega Supreme."

Smokescreen continued, "So what is it you wanted to ask me?"

"Oh yeah. Jazz and I were just talking, and it got me thinking"

Jazz looked like he was about to start laughing at this point, but held it in. Sideswipe wasn't stupid and Smokescreen knew this. But there was a running joke, possibly initiated by Sideswipe himself, that he wasn't one of the sharpest knives in the box.

Sideswipe continued, "What's with the 38. On your doors."

Smokescreen was slightly confused for a second, why would Sideswipe be so curious about something as inane as that? The confusion was swiftly pushed aside as he reminded himself that this was Sideswipe talking to him.

"It's something of a personal reminder I suppose."

"Really?"

"Yes, really." Smokescreen turned away, walking off into the Ark. He'd answered Sideswipe's question. Almost.

"It's the number of times I refused to join the Decepticons."

Sideswipe watched Smokescreen walk off, not entirely sure what to make of the answer he'd got.

"Hey Jazz?"

"Hm?"

"Do you really think that's why? Thirty eight times?"

"Do you think that's why?"

Jazz transformed, hinting that Sideswipe should too. They needed to get out on the morning patrol since their little diversion was now over with.

Yet all through it and the rest of the day, it wasn't Smokescreen's words that hung around his memory like a bad static charge, it was Jazz's. How could he be sure of the answer he'd got? He'd asked Smokescreen something that had ended up being a rather personal question yet still got answer.

But this was Smokescreen, his primary function was to obscure and confuse.