When he felt the reboot process onlining his system, Prowl immediately noticed the faster boot cycle and instinctively sent a query to both his self-repair systems and his tac-set. One went unanswered and the other reminded him his tac-set was off. He powered on his optics and looked into the tilted face of a leaning Ratchet.

"So… now what?" Prowl asked, feeling almost distressingly naïve about how to approach the situation, suddenly remembering what it was like to have all other sources of "talk" inside his helm silenced. He rolled his body into a more attentive sitting position, forcing Ratchet to step back. Once sitting, Prowl rotated his neck around to dispel the growing discomfort inside his helm, only to feel small tugs on the outside of his helm. Ratchet's patient pawed a little at the cables connecting to the back of his cerebral cortex and to the side of helm by the tac-set, as if they were suddenly announcing themselves by itching his plating.

The CMO replied with a 'pfffht' and stopped Prowl's hand from touching the cables further. "The one on the side is a backup, for monitoring activity. It should read zero on everything but temperature, and that should soon read temperatures expected of a normal processor's range." He tapped the screen. "So far that's all true and it'll set off alarms if that's no longer true.

"The other cable is doing its job. I'm not elaborating on 'how' since I don't want the AI to find out the 'how' through you, and use that to build its own code or tac-set/processor interface protocols as countermeasures."

"Understood. That's why you, your team, and Jazz have never explained the first fix to me," Prowl murmured, looking at his hands and trying to figure out what to do with them if he wasn't allowed to investigate the cables. Normally if he was in Medbay and not allowed to hold reports or puzzles, he wouldn't have a second thought over leaving his hands on his lap or by his sides, as if on standby for work.

Now his hands felt foreign. Hands do things, but what did they do without a tac-set needing their assistance, or him needing them while playing puzzle games or doing very private activities? What did he do with them last time his tac-set was completely offline? Besides his brothers smushing a bowl of energon goodies in his hands since they stuck him in the middle every time for movies, or when he stole reports to work on them for Jazz.

"Jazz's knowledge on the matter is more hack-related than medical-related." Ratchet trailed off for a klik before wirily adding, "I'm not sure which is more problematic of the tac-set getting leaked info on how we contained it."

"Jazz talked Barr - it down so the program could be downloaded. It and I know that."

"A vital first step, but technically his role was only the first step that one time. I'm not trying to under credit Jazz, but there's no Pitting way I want his role to be something beyond that one-time first step. If we need him, need to credit him anything else, then things have gone very wrong. Now stop asking questions it might use against us to prevent shutting it completely offline again, if this measly 5 breem break doesn't work."

"'Pitting?' Are you using the noun for Unicron's lair as a verb now?" Prowl asked and Ratchet responded with only a smirk.

Prowl ex-vented. "Fine, as you insist I'll drop my questions. For now I'll... perhaps we could… what happens now?" Prowl huffed and dropped his hands, inadvertently placing them a pleading fashion. He immediately rectified the pose by curling them back and together, neatly into his lap.

From his own ultra-high optic resolution, Ratchet closely watched Prowl's body language, but his primary anchor of focus was on Prowl's optics, searching for clues on Prowl's state. A mech like Prowl was least guarded in his optics when his own defenses and countermeasures were eliminated. To any mech with standard optics Prowl's optics looked like a solid icy blue. Most Cybertronians had optics with a fairly thick outer lens, with just enough opaque material to obscure 80-90% of the movements of the inner optic workings. Less transparent optics were available but in general replacing the optic lens was harder. Plus inner optic workings were more sensitive and also harder to procure. With Command that was moderately less difficult, given that roughly 2/3rds of Command wanted to reduce transparency as close to zero as possible. Where Jazz used multi-function visors, Prowl went with specially-tinted and denser outer optic lens. The denser material and particular shade of blue gave him an icy appearance. Ironhide and Red Alert address their concerns with a similar methodology to Prowl's, but with different approaches and different appearances.

Ratchet's optics were different, given that medics worked on entirely different principles where the emphasis wasn't on block their own optics from others' observations, but their own optics being able to see beyond others' blocks. At this range he could easily see past Prowl's main defense and observe the inner optic movements. The sharp edge and short precise movements that came with the tac-set's activities was completely lost, replacing Prowl's second defense with soft confusion. Ratchet observed subtle lens changes reminiscent of an amnesia mech trying to take in information and remember who they were. Changes that kept going from wide to narrow as they slowly swept the room and equipment. They settled on the back wall's covers, tightly covered to prevent any debris escaping into the area. They traced the contours of missing wall sections, beneath that cover.

Ratchet referenced back to his other concern for Prowl, but this time much carefully with the intent of broadcasting care by kindness instead of care by chewing out his stubbornness. "Now that there's not a possible interruption from the tac-set, you should take the four-and-a-half-plus breems to think about personal interests. Personal concerns. Whatever is too 'mech' for the tac-set to not pester you about it, I suppose." He added a small shrug. "You'd know better than me what it's been giving you grief over."

Those optics moved back to Ratchet and the CMO observed slow zooming in and out, much like an amnesic indecisively distrusting another presence. Ratchet's first thought was to tell him to knock off the distrust of his doctor, but his second was to remember how uncertain Prowl became after he started realizing he was "alone."

While Ratchet observed and internally debated, Prowl was trying to establish connections with his normal mindset. When he looked at the back wall with its covered hole, he first thought about how he was going to get on Medical's collective afts for ignoring the proper channels of base modifications. That thought never finished when the most obscured observation invoked a memory.

The way the tan material wrapped around a support beam on one side, secured by faded red rope, and was very tightly stretched along the orange wall to reach the next beam, reminded him of his first solo Enforcer patrol investigation in Praxus. An old warehouse building at the edge of a long-term storage park had a faded tan paint job, and from the way the setting sun hit it, there was some visually ascertainable rust. One of the towers looked particularly orange and had rust pits when he got close, searching for the petty criminal activity. Instead of young vandals he found a spray paint stained mech dangerously close to overdosing on an illicit recreational supply. The mech was stabilized at the hospital and the datawork was finished just as his shift ended. For once Prowl decided to leave on time, and after he got home Bluestreak called him not 5 breems later, eager to hear about his brother's first time without a trainer. When Prowl mentioned busting/rescuing a mech behind a slowly-rusting building, Bluestreak was alarmed and kept asking him if he was sure he didn't get any rust on him, or if there was any in the spray paint. He went so far as to say if Prowl felt sick but didn't get himself checked, Bluestreak would move out of their creator's home and into Prowl's to make sure that he "behaved" himself.

"Oh holy Primus on an oil wafer, you're smiling. Like genuinely smiling, not fake or sardonic smiling," Ratchet amazing, jaw slack. "What in this dark unholy universe has you smiling?"

Immediately Prowl killed the unplanned smile. "If you want me to take these 4 remaining breems to be 'more mech-like,' then you need to leave. You gasping about is not helping."

Ratchet narrowed his optics at the "gasping about" comment. "Fine, be that way. And it's just under 4.5 breems. You're not getting away with short-changing me or my machines." He shook his finger at Prowl as he back away several steps, pivoted, and left.

Prowl considered Ratchet's suggestion, but the CMO's comment about his smile made him acutely aware of his exposure. Instead he reconsidered just working on a datapad. He grabbed one and out of sheer reflex sent his tac-set a command before belatedly remembering. Prowl's fingers brushed the power button as he hesitated over picking the comfortable workaholics nature driving by a tac-set over his natural inclinations.

'Which is…?' Prowl's optics slowly widened as he tried finding something. 'I have no clue what I'm partial to doing on my own.' He looked again at that dark datapad, thinking about how if he worked on it now he didn't need to waste time fretting about how he was possibly a stranger to his own self, and any work done now was time saved for when he could be with Jazz and actually be with Jazz.

'Jazz…'

Without his tac-set adding its bit on Jazz, Prowl could really "hear" his spark better. Not just through the emotion filters, but it felt stronger in his chassis. The fluttering was stronger, as if his spark wasn't "sufficiently healed" but truly healed. There were no irregular movements or brief flickers of pain from the expected spark-scaring from coming back from such a serious spark injury.

Cautiously he let his filters down and there was renewed whispering in his helm, but this time it came from behind the wall. It whispered trust, support, and acceptance. The sensations were almost like he had all of his extra-sensitive spark sensors again, the ones originally meant to assist Prowl in realizing whether or not his spark was in a satisfactory state (aka still surviving). It reminded him of the time he cut ties with his spark's ability to communicate with his mind so he couldn't feel pain over Jazz, where it cried "no" with a hurtful energy pang - except this time it was the opposite. If there was a feel to "yes," he suspected it was this.

What were these whispers? Words without full context but enough to form a grainy picture, perhaps, but Prowl wasn't comfortable acting on or in accordance to what he didn't have a strong statistical correlation calculated and proven.

Perhaps if he listened more he'd have more context. Prowl offlined his optics, lowered his fans to near idle speeds, and tried for the first time in a very long time to listen to his spark.

"Ready?"

Prowl's helm snapped up to give the unannounced Ratchet a bewildered look, with flickering optics, before the tactician roughly halted his movements. He schooled his expression back into neutral and forced his doorwings back into the neutral upright position, releasing the forgotten datapad in his lap.

"A fast 4.5 breems?" Ratchet gingerly questioned, caught off aware by the startling reaction.

"It was an unusual 4.5 breems. Your return merely brought back a sudden normality that I wasn't watching for."

Ratchet heard the guarded nature in the words. "Would you like more time to transition smoothly from the unusual to the normal at your pace?"

"No thank you. I do have work to complete, and the protection of everyone to ensure."

"Fine. I'll have to put you back into temporary stasis and make sure things start back up correctly. I'll run some diagnostic testing while you're out."

Despite Ratchet's reassurances, once he was free of the cables Prowl completed his own checks to verify his tac-set was functioning well. [[Recommendations for remaining time before recharge?]]

[[User initiated action, query-type...]] The AI began, running through the commands before returning the top three options. [[...Return: recommend follow the highlighted schedule. Two alternatives available. Subroutine...]]

Prowl reviewed it carefully, hyperaware of keeping his thoughts isolated from the AI about the missing "Barricade" references. The constant chatter from the AI during the query run matched the chatter of before Jazz's trip instead of after. "Ratchet, it appears your efforts have worked. At least for the immediate time."

"Great, then I've had my win for the orn. Don't suppose I could convince you to do this again? Preventative maintenance can make the difference, and that includes keeping chances for bad/mutating code opportunities at bay."

"At this time convincing me to risk so much for an understudied hypothetical is highly improbable. My arguments from before remain very much the same."

"And my arguments from before remain very much the same, and will be waiting for you next time I see you," Ratchet rebutted, with a faint coy grin.

"So I shouldn't schedule those recurring administrative datawork meetings?"

That wiped the medic's face clean, replacing it with a scowl. "Okay, fine; excluding times when I need you while we're on duty, my arguments will be waiting and will remain very much the same."

"I suppose that's acceptable, in light of your natural inclinations."

"Excuse me? You mean my natural inclinations to make sure all the little soldiers, officers, agents, and other sundries Autobots survive? To be naturally inclined to harbor all arguments for each one of those mechs not die from something they could have prevented? You referring to those natural inclinations?"

"Sure. Speaking of harboring and work, I have too much of my own work items waiting on me," Prowl redirected to excuse himself.

"Uh huh." Ratchet watched Prowl for signs of concern, following him until they neared the main Medbay door. "Don't forget to schedule that meeting. I want to get that rotating inter-base medic scheduling going before we get a bunch of new soldiers. Getting to know even half of the ones already stationed here will be scary enough for a new doctor."

"Of course."

When the doors closed behind him Prowl looked again at the AI's proposed schedule. Its first proposed step was to get more Coff-E and drink it slower.

When he made back to the small break room, he spotted a mech he thought unlikely to be at work at this time. "Wheeljack?"

The engineer turned around from the Coff-E dispenser and waved, a small gadget in hand. "Hey, Prowl!"

"You're off duty," the master scheduler stated, his nose wrinkling.

Wheeljack shrugged. "Yeah, but I've gotten so much feedback that I thought I'd ticker with it before the next shift starts. Prime approved it on account of an upcoming early meeting he has with Red. I think he figures he could try a boost before listening to Red's bi-weekly ra- ahhh, list - of the securities issues from all the construction projects. Apparently no one can really stand the taste all that well. Except maybe you? Red and Ferno mentioned you not grimacing or spitting it out like some of the others."

"I found the taste tolerable in favor of the tradeoffs."

Wheeljack's fins light up a bright green-blue, aka the "happy to be appreciated" color. "So far you are the only one. A few swallowed it okay, but said they wouldn't try it again unless it was the only thing that'd help them fake looking alive after not recharging."

"So what are you doing now?"

Wheeljack turned back to the dispenser and tapped the top with his tool, showing the new attachment on the side and top. "Installing some flavor options to try and mask the taste until I can solve the problem at the source. Problem is finding a chemical solution that gives short energy bursts without burning through regular energon reserves, while safely mixing with energon-processing systems, and doesn't taste like what I'm extracting it from."

"An aftertaste faintly comparable to burnt slag?"

Wheeljack winced. "The extraction process needs some refining... Still, demand is high while so many 'Bots keep at the construction and all things related. I'm not putting one in the Rec Room until I get this one smoothly working, which adds pressure from certain Autobots who don't like going near officers. Ah well, the cowards will just have to recharge like they're supposed to."

"There are certain soldiers I'd rather not be able to take more than a small and carefully managed amount right before their scheduled shift, and only then," Prowl agreed as he waited. "If I may add another request?"

"Sure. No promises on getting it done now," he said with a shrug.

"I wouldn't ask you to rush something we consume. Can you add a potency control? Red Alert mentioned that you 'watered it down,' so I can assume that it wasn't near its maximum effect."

Wheeljack stared, his fins flickering a shocked orange. "Uh, yeah. Wouldn't help reduce the taste problem. Might even make it worse for a little while. I doubt these flavors would mask the taste enough at the high potency levels."

"Taste is a short experience, which can be easily hastened if even a short experience is intolerable."

"You mean if the taste is hard to swallow?" Wheejack winked.

Prowl optics slightly dimmed. "Yes. If you're done with puns and if it's safe, I'd like to have a cup."

The engineer's fins light up happily again and he moved aside, gesturing for Prowl to take where he was standing. "By all means. Might taste a little funky because I've been testing the flavors and making sure it dispenses and mixes right. Not sure what flavor or flavors you're going to get. Call it the 'Mystery Flavor'? Every brand's got to have at least one of those."

"I don't know why you're thinking about brands but you won't be doing such with this. I'll take comfort in knowing there's worst mysteries out there than questionable flavoring." Prowl pulled out a cup and filled it. He slowly sipped it once, ignoring Wheeljack watching him with scientific inquiry. "This is sufficiently mystery flavored. Purely for my own planning, when do you think you'll have my request ready?"

"Ah, maybe when I finish my regular shift?"

"Thank you," Prowl acknowledged and headed to his quarters, datapad in one hand and tucked in the arm, while the other held the cup.

His quickening steps had him in his quarters before long and he settled down at his desk terminal. He started working on the datapads and after 2 reports on the first datapad were completely processed, he realized the third would require his tac-set directly interacting with it. He hardlined into the datapad, this time via a wrist port by the port connecting to the Teletraan terminal. While he wated for the tac-set to churn through the raw data he took the moment to contact his brother. ::Smokescreen?::

::Hey,:: the diversionary tactician replied after a couple kliks delay.

::Would you be willing to have a working refuel break with me during our next shift?::

::Sure?::

::Are you uncertain because you haven't looked at the schedule yet, or because you have other plans?::

::Firs' un.::

::You're doing short-distance patrols during your shift. You'll be able to return for break. Are you alright?::

::Yeah.::

::I've been meaning to ask you, what are your thoughts on Hound, Trailbreaker, and Beachcomber's requests to build hybrid Earth-Cybertronian gardens?::

::Wha'?::

::Do you think we could ever harvest some of the Earth-Cybertronian plants to use it against the Decepticons? Perhaps as a tool, a weapon, or to distract them by "organic-affying" pieces of Cybertron?::

::Uh, yeah?::

Prowl recognized the pattern of short answers and Smokescreen's lack of committal comments confirmed enough of his suspicions. [[Assess Smokescreen's response times and pronunciation accuracies,]] he ordered.

[[User initiated action…]]

Prowl continued, ::Smokescreen, what are you doing?::

::Hangin'.::

::With who?::

::Twins.::

::Where at?::

::Their quar'ers.::

::And what are you doing in their quarters?::

::Things.::

::Which are…?:: Prowl prompted.

::The non-brothe'ly or non-boss kin'.::

[[Return: Tactician Smoksecreen's speech is 0.2919 kliks slower to respond than normal. Pronunciation of each work is 0.0822 kliks slower than normal, and 8.3911% less accurate than normal. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker are currently on the construction volunteer list. Subroutine...]]

Prowl considered his options: give up his hopes to get work done and check the construction location himself, or get another officer to check. It was possible that the three of them were in the twins' quarters, and Sideswipe and Sunstreaker forgot to remove their names from the roster. If they weren't and if his suspicions on Smokescreen's mannerisms were right, at the very minimum there would be automatic brig regardless of who discovered an inebriated Smokescreen (and others) at a construction spot.

He pinged Ironhide. ::Ironhide, are you willing to investigate an immediate issue?::

::Aw, Prowl. Can't a mech enjoy his downtime?::

::I'm sorry, but you're the only officer I know to have time to investigate a matter. I believe there are at least one mech drinking, or having drank, high-grade while in the construction zone by the soldier quarters. I'm in the midst of downloading and converting data, but this warrants immediate investigation.::

::Pit there'll be no tolerance of that. I'm on it. If there are drunk slaggers bein' stupid in a hazard area, I'll take them straight to the brig by kicking them there by the aft.::

::If one is Smokescreen, please take in account that I need to speak to him on my shift.:: Prowl hastily requested when he heard muffled angry tones in the hallway. If he heard them, then Ironhide was probably quite loud beyond his doors. 'Loud enough for Jazz to hear.' Prowl detected a heightened increase in energy motion in his spark. He turned up the sensitivity on his doorwings to detect and notify him if/when Jazz appeared.

::Yeah, yeah. I won't beat his aft to the point he can't walk to your office later. Maybe with a limp, but he'll a-walk.::

Prowl closed the line and focused on making sure he finished processing as much as possible from the geological and structural team report before an interruption. His simulator was busy comparing the data analysis to schedules and layouts.

The tac-set was nearly 90% complete when his doorwings detected the silent change in air current movements around his emergency exit hatch. A solid presence moved through the hatch, disrupting the air current flow patterns. Prowl switched modes to safely disconnect without losing data while the solid presence moved more freely into his quarters.

"Hello, Jazz," Prowl greeted as he disconnected from the datapad, and rose. He reduced his doorwing sensors back to their normal off-duty levels.

"'Ello," replied his secret visitor. "Hide was cussing up a storm about stupidity. Your doing?"

"Technically Smokescreen's doing, but I did request Ironhide take care of it. I'm in the middle of some important calculations."

"Oh," Jazz replied with a twinge of disappointment. "So what does that mean?"

"Two things: Ironhide will actually return to his quarters long before you'd normally return to your quarters after recharging here, so you'll need to make a decision on whether to deal with that now or later; two, I need to complete this datapad before anything else. It needs to be available for review by several individuals upon the start of the primary shift."

Jazz glanced to the berth, to Prowl, to the hatch, and back. "Well, I was feeling the need for a Praxian snack, but I get that I'll have to keep my charge on ice for now. I still don't want to recharge alone, 'though, even if it's just having you in the same room. Is that cool?"

"That's acceptable. I'll join you when I can."

"Hopefully not too long," Jazz commented as he looked over Prowl's room, starting his security sweep.

The tac-set pinged Prowl. [[New AI initiated action, query-type: value of Officer Jazz's presence here, compared to work efficiency losses?]]

[[Go on standby,]] he commanded. Did he have some sort of accidental script that allowed it to initiate its own action now, without provocation or battle? A question to ask Ratchet later, in case there was something overlooked. They looked for bad or mutated code, but perhaps there was a third potential not purged.

To Jazz he inquired, "Are you intending to bring up the full security measures?"

"Not sure," Jazz answered, biting his lip. "I did in my quarters while I was trying to relax but it's kind of counterproductive. Relaxing in the most unrelaxed room. When I heard Hide I figured I'd come here. I would've come straight here, except I had to put everything back into normal security mode before leaving."

"You waste a lot of time on these matters," he murmured.

"Hey now," Jazz protested. "You know this is important to me."

Prowl winced. "I meant our current situation is forcing you to go through a lot of efforts to achieve a sense of security."

Jazz haphazardly shrugged as he returned to inspecting the quarters. "Our options are, one: to go 'public' and see what insanity that brings, which I'm not sure how far-from-platonic fraternizing at the General Army Command level will be perceived; two: find some amazing defense why we need to be roommates; three: play music chairs but with quarters until ours end up next to each other; or four: get Hide to move without tipping him or anyone off that it's because we're being totally selfish."

"Then let's get Ironhide to move."

The saboteur perked up. "Come again? I meant that to get more silly-stupid as I went down the list. Do I hear a plan forming that makes Option Number 4 not stupid?"

Prowl issued a command to get his tac-set out of standby, briefly pleased he was doing that and not it. [[Find a solution to get Ironhide to move out of his quarters. A solution that doesn't have someone else moving into the quarters after he leaves.]]

[[User initiated action… return: Provide Officer Ironhide incentive to move and to suggest his quarters be used as a storage unit for localized movements, given the amount of construction going on.]]

'At least it's still using 'User' and 'Officer'. It probably is just an oversight,' Prowl realized, and the tension in his forehelm relaxed.

"My tac-set suggests that the most logical conclusion is to get Ironhide to move and then use his quarters as a storage unit during all of this construction."

"Oooh, interested," Jazz awed, pausing his sweeps and using the berth to sit cross-legged. "Given Hide's visitor count so he can tell his stories, he could use bigger quarters. Plus he has often enough mini-trips to investigate troop behaviors or weapon issues that I'm sure the old mech would appreciate a shorter walk. Hey, don't we have a giant storage area near the training area that runs along the walls with solvent piping and other sundries a mech needs for working quarters?"

Upon Prowl's command the AI immediately seeked and pulled up stored construction blueprints. "It's two medium-size storage areas that haven't been well maintained, but nothing irreparable and their shared wall is mostly for division. It's non-load-bearing and there's no crucial electrical or piping within it. The contents could easily be relocated, and the south-side wall does have all the connections he'd need."

"Plus enough wall space for him to mount more story artifacts and usable weapons or weapons stuff," Jazz noted.

"True. It'll also cut down on time wasted when he gets called to deal with some sort of training or weapon incident. He might be a bit miffed about being easier to call upon for other trouble, which I'm sure Red Alert will happily use to his full capability."

"We'll figure something out. Protocols or whatever. Strategic deployments of Ferno. How about we work it out over next shift break?"

"Unfortunately I've reserved that time to talk to Smokescreen. I'll have to talk to Ironhide prior to that since Smokescreen will probably realize I'm the one who sent Ironhide to investigate him just now. I'll work it into the conversation."

"You sicked Hide on Smokey? Tough love."

"He's been drinking and he's likely hanging around the 'suburbia sprawl zone.'"

"I don't think he's that reckless, but he could be down collecting or something."

"I don't think he's that reckless, either, but I can't ignore the possibility. I also can't take time out of my work." Prowl motioned at the datapads. "If that's - " Prowl stopped when he looked back at Jazz sitting on his berth. He remembered his earlier plans to ask Jazz if he recharged well after the SIC left for duty. His concerns about Jazz's talkativeness, now coupled with Jazz's admitted/observed activity since then, said there was definitely something of hidden trouble. While a smaller concern, he remembered how Jazz had a high multi-interfacing need after missions and Jazz's greeting further tipped him off that the mission's effects still lingered in the saboteur's systems.

'Reports or Jazz, reports or Jazz,' he debated. If he did the reports now he could dedicate more time to Jazz than a brief window, but would that be too late?

[[New AI initiated action... Recommend course of action: reports now. Proper assessing of reports now may allow more to be delegated later, which will open more time for later. Current matches between Officer Jazz and physiatrist databases indicated Officer Jazz will be able to maintain function for at least one more online cycle.]]

The offered plan was acceptable, so long as he added a few addendums. Jazz wouldn't have a bad recharge while he was within easy reach?

[[New AI initiated action... Chances of self-induced disruption to recharge for Jazz is 3.1860%, based on comparing the latest mission to missions that have caused problems for Jazz previously.]]

That sounded solid reasoning, but why did his spark and fuel tanks feel queasy about accepting it? He dismissed his concerns over the unpleasantness. "If that's all for the moment, I should to return to this. The sooner I complete this, the sooner I can recharge with you."

Jazz's visor dimmed. "Yeah, understood. Go ahead. I don't feel like going straight to recharge, yet, ya know?"

Prowl's spark upped its queasy-factor. His tac-set assured him that the statistics where there, compared to the missions that did get inside Jazz's helm. Numbers were more trustable than Prowl's unquantifiable and abstruse feelings.

Jazz continued, "I'll finish my sweeps and setting up as security as I can without it tripping because you're working and I'm awake. I'll probably need some quiet-time entertainment after I'm done. I think I left a recreational datapad here?"

"Yes, you did. It's in that drawer," Prowl pointed to a wall built-in shelving, second row, left side.

Prowl settled back into his desk and reestablished both hardlines while Jazz popped over to the drawer. Prowl almost was ready to restart when Jazz called out, "Is this my stuff?"

"It's everything you've left behind. For a mech who's very uptight about security and visitor safety, you sure leave a mess behind."

"There are 4 items! Plus this is a safe zone. Is this everything I've left behind?"

"Yes, that's the drawer I reserved for what you leave behind." He turned back around, datapad still in hand, watching Jazz inspect the drawer's contents.

[[Connection established. Recommendation: resume work on the datapad.]]

Prowl ignored it when he saw a soft lip lick and short smile as Jazz pulled out a Special Ops hand-sized box. The saboteur murmured, "I think I left this behind 2 mega-orns ago."

"Closer to three."

"It's been cleaned."

"Of course. I cleaned and made sure all of it is operating optimally."

"You never mentioned having these," Jazz pointed out, more with admiration than accusation.

"You never asked and none looked important to your duties. That one in your hand I believe is more of a training tool you've used to pass the time."

"Yup. A fun little puzzle with snapping blades and bug-bot hunting."

"Those words literally do not below together," Prowl drawled.

He grinned. "Well, anyways. Thanks for taking care of my stuff. Perhaps I could leave a few more things in this drawer?"

"If we succeed with moving Ironhide it won't be necessary, but you may if you wish."

"Thanks," Jazz said.

The saboteur subspaced the tool/toy to finish securing the room and then returned to the berth. When Prowl finished the one report he paused everything and glanced at Jazz. He didn't know what a Special Ops puzzle did, but from the looks of it he wouldn't be trying. "Are you trying to get something out of there without cutting off your fingers?"

Jazz paused and rolled over, scooting across the berth until he was closer. He held it out. "It's got these hidden compartments. The goal is to get a little robot that moves around the hidden compartments, avoid damage, and find it quickly. There're other littler robots that do things to make it harder to find, like muffle noises or false trails."

Jazz turned it over in his hands, slowly playing with the blades. "I haven't done much with this in a long time. One of the reasons being the blade joints needed to be re-oiled. I noticed that the joints have been re-oiled."

"Of course. After I cleaned it - and got over my surprise of the blade that lost a fight with gravity - I lubricated the joints and tightened a few fasteners. I didn't see the little robots."

Jazz chortled. "Sorry about that. Without any new agents to train, I use these mostly to entertain myself for a breem or two in my own quarters. I guess last time I had this I got it in my helm that this was just like my place."

"... Ah."

Jazz tilted his helm at the Prowl's lack of response to the statement. He tried again, but from a different angle. "Do you know why you cleaned and repaired?"

"It was practical?"

Jazz chuckled. "Okay." When Jazz noted the distracted look setting into Prowl's optics once more, he decided to skip anymore talks about behavior Prowl didn't understand but endeared Jazz. "Tac-set?"

"Yes, I should resume work."

"You'll finish setting the last security items when you go into recharge, right?"

"Of course. Rest well, Jazz."

"Thanks." Jazz settled down, playing with the puzzle with faster fingers. "If I'm offline before you're done, then you rest well too."