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Prowl carried the youngling up to the dining hall, where Ember was waiting with a bowl of what looked like a thick soup.
"... What is that?" Yoketron asked the female, who looked indignant at the question.
"It is kciht-puos. It is a popular J'wanese soup. My mother made this for my brothers and myself whenever we were sick, I would swear by it," she half-pouted.
Both adult mechs made a face at the soup, but Prowl carried the youngling over to his fellow ninja, handing him off to her. The youngling fussed at the change in holder, likely due to the femme's much lower running temperature, but he was not acknowledged. He was acknowledged, however, when Ember brought the spoon up to him. He wouldn't let her put it near his mouth.
"What..."
She tried it again, and again, and eventually, the youngling merely took the spoon from her with one feeler and threw it at her. It bounced off her face, and she caught it, scowling at him.
Yoketron held out his hands. "Give him here. Perhaps I can get him to eat."
Ember handed him off, giving her sensei the spoon. Yoketron was also refused by the little guy, and the spoon was once again thrown at Ember's face.
"Oh come on!" she exclaimed, frustrated.
Prowl stepped forward, waving for both the youngling and the spoon. Both of his fellow ninja looked skeptical, but his request was granted, and the older mech and the small femme watched in shock as the youngling happily ate the soup that he was fed.
While Prowl was distracted, Yoketron took Ember off to the side, turning so that they could not be seen by either of the quietest males. "Ember, I have a... theory... concerning Prowl and that youngling."
"You do? What is it, Sir?"
"You have no doubt noticed the youngling's facial structure. Everything about him tells me that he is of Praxian parentage. His cheekplates, optic shape, and general body composition. Not all Praxians are possessed of wings. But there is another piece to this theory. Have you had a good look at the youngling's optics?"
"No, I have not."
"Well, let me save you the trouble. I have seen Prowl's optics many times before, and the youngling's optics are virtually identical, even down to the color difference around the rims of the lenses. There is no doubt in my mind that the two of them are related. Either they are brothers with a very large age gap, or, more likely, sire and son."
"Forgive me, Sir, but I find that second conclusion to be impossible. I am Prowl's best friend, I think that I would be the first to know if he had an illegitimate youngling running about."
"Prowl keeps many secrets, Young One," Yoketron said wisely. "You might not know everything about him. And why would you say the youngling would be illegitimate if he were Prowl's offspring?"
"Because I know for a fact that he is unbonded, and is not currently in a relationship," she said matter-of-factly. "I know many things, Wise One, and I know everything about my best friend."
The doors to the dining hall opened, and four large mechs toddled in. They were Yoketron's Wrestlers and Sumo Wrestlers: Roadhandler, Grandus, Motorarm, and Powerhug.
"Master Yoketron, Springer said that there was a wounded youngling found on the doorstep, we came in to check on how he was doing-" Roadhandler started, but was waved off by his master.
"Yes. He is all right. Now, you are dismissed for recharge. Pass this along to the other students, I know they are all outside the door."
The large mechs toddled back out, and there followed the sound of several pairs of feet scrambling to get to their rooms. Yoketron shook his head, looking back at the pair of ninja standing behind him. "Speaking of recharge, the little one requires a place to do so. Do I have a volunteer to take on a roommate?"
Prowl stepped forward with no hesitation.