"But! Soundwave," Ratbat whined in protest as the carrier-host slowed for a long moment before finally entering the shop that had caught the symbiont's attention as they left the office building they had just collected information form. He had noticed the place on the way in and asked to come back after they had completed their objective since there was nothing else for them to do for the cycle. "Please? It looks interesting and I've never seen one before!"
The bright purple and gold figure darted into the relatively small room and alighted on a bar conveniently hung from the ceiling where he could survey everything from his preferred, upside-down, orientation. This was all quite exciting to the young symbiont since he had no idea what the things in the case-like things were. They looked like some of those things that had been in a candy shop and in another building that had been labeled a 'bakery' that he had observed for a bit while scouting out a city that was near a place that they had been attempting to take energy from to convert into energon. Those had been some rather interesting kliks, but not overly informative.
"What's all this stuff? Is it edible? I can smell energon, but I've never seen it like this. Is it good?"
A soft chuckle drew their attention from each other and to the mech behind the counter. If Soundwave did not have a face mask, it would have been quite obvious how surprised he was to see the mech in such an unlikely place. Ratbat's was made obvious by the fact that he had let go of the bar and would have slammed into the floor if the carrier-host had not reached out automatically and sent his manipulator cables to catch the small frame. He was still operating under protocols that he had activated during the war for their protection since they were not so different from what his original coding had been and had not been deemed harmful to assimilating with the Autobots and, later, the Neutrals.
Soundwave recovered first, his cables pulling the small frame over to his own, far larger one to deposit Ratbat on his shoulder where small claws latched around the ridge there and wings flared to steady him. "Prowl's whereabouts: previously unknown." He looked around the currently small shop curiously, having been unaware of its opening. "Query: suggestions."
"I may have some, but I do not know what your preferences are in relation to minerals and elements. It also does not seem as if Ratbat knows what his are either," he stated with a nod to the small purple and gold frame. He gestured for the symbiont to join him as he moved behind the display cases and accessed them so that he could pull out a few small selection trays – one like he had shared with Ratchet, one that had oil layers between wafers, and one that held an assorted selection of injected confections.
The symbiont fluttered over nervously, landing on the display case instead of the offered shoulder perch in wariness, which Prowl was rather upset to notice as he had been hoping to have overcome that fear of him. He did not let it show in his field despite that as it would have scared Ratbat even further away from him. Considering his history with symbionts was well-documented and quite amiable, he had hoped to be able to spend more time with them, especially as he enjoyed his conversations with those he had met and been allowed extensive contact with. Each knew so much more than most believed because they could fit into places that no other mecha could, but they still stayed discreet, making them some of the most valuable allies anyone could have. Blaster had avoided him like the plague for some reason, so he had been hoping – apparently against hope – that Soundwave and his symbionts would be different. It seemed as if his old partner had been an aberration by befriending a Praxian since, apparently, his frame-type was known for discrimination against carrier-hosts. That friendship had started off far from amicably, Analog having been assigned to watch over him in the field to make sure he did not glitch and deactivate while on duty since the city-state would be held liable if he did. From there, they had grown quite close through a series of unfortunate events that left them having to rely entirely on each other to escape from the underground gladiator pit they had been taken to after being drugged. Even the most aloof of Analog's symbionts, his turbohawk by the designation of Longview, had eventually taken to him, though that particular one had never deigned to perch on his plating as the other flighted ones of Analog's cabal had.
His drooping doorwings worried Soundwave, but there was nothing he could do to figure the reason out as he had been ordered to not try and read any of the Autobot command staff or the ones that had worked on the treaty. It was a matter of security from prosecution, in a way, and also was meant to be a sign of the Decepticons' trust in the Autobots. There was no such rule against the Neutrals though, especially after seeing the way that many of the war-time commanders had been treated. The insults thrown at the Praxian had probably been the worst that he had heard applied to any of them, but the black and white had never showed any reaction to them. That had alienated many Decepticons and Neutrals alike. Soundwave, with his access to anyone's thoughts and inability to block those that thought loudly, knew just how affected the mech had been, mainly through the medical officer's thoughts as he had been mentally shouting and cursing at the Neutrals that had been elected as representatives of those that had fled the planet. Only once had the Praxian been driven to a rage within the time that he had spent near him, but that one time had been enough to terrify both him and his symbionts. Doorwings had swept up to the highest position anyone had ever seen them in, his frame had vibrated with the iron will he was using to not ferociously attack the mech that had insulted him so fully, and his voice had dropped so low and icy that most of those present had wondered how the room was not having ceiling to floor icicles form. Many of the Neutrals had not understood the threat they were faced with as the knowledge of reading doorwings had been lost to them almost entirely. Only a select few had seen what was taking place, and they had vibrated in terror, suppressing the need to run as far away as possible only because of the orders they had been given.
"Which smells the most interesting, Ratbat?" he asked quietly, keeping his gestures small so as to not frighten the boltbat model any further away from him as he indicated each tray in turn. "Or would you like for me to just lay out a selection for you?"
"I wanna choose," the symbiont stated with a pout. "And you don't know my frame well either. You wouldn't choose what I'd like the best, I bet."
Prowl grinned at the cheek from the tiny frame. It reminded him greatly of Analog's teal and silver boltbat model, Locator, in what could only be described as good ways. "If you're anything like any of the other boltbat models I have been around, you would enjoy the silver encased mercury. However, I think that I would probably direct you to this," he said, picking up the top confection of a small pile that looked quite similar to those next to it. "It is soft platinum with gold-infused sticky mid-grade injected through the bar. I should have thought of the fact that, for your frame-type, it should either be in a wafer or in a spherical shape instead of bars like this. Would you still like to try it?"
"Smells good," Ratbat said warily as he stared intently at the confection the former Autobot was holding towards him as nonthreatening as possible even as the small bat pulled his helm back from where he had been sniffing the treat. As he also had experience with his frame-type – how he got it, he had no idea – and apparently used to make confections for them, he was willing to take a chance that it would taste good, but he was not sure that he wanted to take it from the mech's hand like he would from Soundwave. It did not seem right to do so.
"Would you prefer your carrier-host try it first?" he asked patiently after just a few seconds of waiting, attempting to put them both at ease in his presence.
The excited nodding of the small purple helm almost brought his free hand over to scratch behind the tiny audial flaps before he could stop the automatic reaction that had been conditioned into him so long ago by Locator. Instead, he held the tray up and out to Soundwave in an open invitation to do just that, popping the one in his hand in his own mouth since the outer casing was beginning to become more malleable than he cared to have it when he placed it back in the case.
"Prowl: experience with symbiont frames," he asked, the only indication that it was a question in the miniscule tilt to his helm and the slight bit of question he had allowed into his tone.
"Yes and rather extensive experience at that. The models I know best are the boltbat, turbohawk, and cyberwolf, though I also have some experience with the tigerhack frame-type."
That last type of those he knew well caught their attention more thoroughly than most anything could. A cyberwolf model of symbiont was one of the most rare, both because of the personality that normally accompanied the frame-type and the size of the symbiont. They were the largest of the different types, usually standing all the way to the carrier-host's hip, and sometimes above, at the shoulder. He had never desired one for himself, but he knew that most carrier-hosts did since they were status symbols of the highest kind, despite the fact that they were extremely territorial and aggressive about asserting themselves.
"Wow," Ratbat said, optics wide and drawing the single syllable out. "You really knew a cyberwolf?"
"Of course. I am not in the habit of lying about anything to anyone. It is too much hassle in the long-run. If I remember correctly from his host's last transmission, they are only a few orns out from landing and are in the company of a trade ship returning from Earth that they were recently able to communicate with." He was rather excited to meet up with his former partner and his cabal again, which would hopefully mean that he could get symbiont snuggles not long after since it had been one of their favorite pastimes when they had been off-duty. Analog and he also had a lot of catching up to do since the last time they had been in contact had been around the time the war had really heated up and Prowl had decided to join the Autobots. There had also been the hint that Analog had filled his cabal to capacity, meaning that he had bonded several more in the time they had been apart.
"Query: information obtained."
"Oh, Analog would not talk to anyone else unless I was confirmed deactivated. I had to be called up to the Communications Hub to speak to him and verify the information that had been transferred to his ship from the trader. He's always been a rather suspicious sort, enough so that he gave Red Alert a run for his credits when he tried hacking into the Hub while connected to it."
Soundwave slowly took one of the offered confections, surprised at how patient and talkative the former Autobot was since he had always seemed to stay closed off from everyone and would get quite annoyed with anyone who did not do what he ordered in what he considered a prompt manner. A short inspection revealed that it was exactly as Prowl had said, which peaked his interest since it did sound like a good combination for the tiny boltbat model. He popped it in his mouth and allowed the metals to soften further before chewing the slightly gummy material. They would definitely do better in the other forms that the Praxian had mentioned for Ratbat, but he could try the one and see if he even liked the combination. It was not always guaranteed that he would even if he had liked it just the orn before.
A small manipulator cable swooped over and picked another treat up, a small blade extending to cut the end off before extending the small piece to the sybmiont, who was watching what was happening with great interest. He snapped the smaller treat up quickly, but took his time in analyzing how much he liked it and what each metal could mean for his frame. The effect of the gold was what he found most interesting as his short analysis returned.
"I get to be more shiny?"
Prowl answered with a nod, "Yes. The gold will eventually move to the metal that is under the gold paint on your frame and will add its luster to what is already there."
Tiny, red optics lit up in excitement. Shiny was always fun, especially when he could reflect the light being given off by the star they were orbiting. "How long will it take for all of the gold to get some under it?"
"Depending on how often you have some of these, or anything else with gold in it, they could be finished within anywhere between half a vorn and several vorns from now. I would recommend, for health reasons – and so that Ratchet will not have my helm – that you try for somewhere between a vorn two two vorns."
"Query: health," Soundwave asked as his symbiont's interest drifted over their bond along with his enjoyment of the confection. That doing so could affect the way the small frame functioned was something he would have to analyze before he would allow him to do as he wanted.
"Too much of some metals – such as gold – can clog up hoses and gum up the tank. It is quite unhealthy since the only way to fix that is to replace the parts that have been affected, which I know that none of the medics care to do when something is easily prevented. With the size of the boltbat frame-type, he will be unable to process as much as a mech of a large frame size in the same time limits."
"Please, Soundwave?" the tiny frame begged, optics widening in such a way as to remind Prowl of the way human's described the eyes of immature canines that they owned.
Soundwave huffed softly, a sound that Prowl's sensors caught and that he dismissed as something he did not need to comment on. It was something he could recall the mech doing quite frequently during the negotiations when a topic that very few cared about was brought up to be added into the text. In the context of the symbionts, he had no idea what it meant, though he had some guesses due to the scene before him.
"Quantity: seventy credits. Query: other symbionts welcome."
"Of course they are, Soundwave. As long as you trust them near me, they are welcome here."
His answer seemed to satisfy the carrier-host as he pulled a credit chip out of his subspace and handed it to the Praxian. "Query: secure place for chips."
"I will be getting one from Red Alert later this cycle that I ordered earlier. I can charge what the symbionts choose to the chip whenever they choose to pick them up, or I can add everything together over a specific time frame and charge it at that time." While he spoke, he picked up one of the small boxes he had created, but stopped himself before he opened the display case. "Do you want the ones that I already have made, or would you prefer that I create some wafers or spheres?" That question was directed at both symbiont and host since they would both have a say in what the boltbat frame got.
"Preference: spheres. Bars: adequate. Query: time until created."
"I can have the spheres done in a couple of orns since I need to create a new batch of the gold-infused mid-grade before I can create the spheres."
"Preference: wait until spheres created."
He nodded. "That is fine. Is there anything that I can interest you in other than those this cycle, then?"
Soundwave's helm shook, prompting the Praxian to begin placing the small trays back in the display cases so as to preserve them further. Ratbat pouted at the decision to not purchase any at that time, but he was not going to complain about that in front of someone that was not in their cabal. He launched himself the short distance to the carrier-host's shoulder where he perched quite contentedly as they left the small shop and the rather weird owner.
"Ravage needs to check him out. He's weird."
Soundwave's shoulders shook in a silent laugh at the statement. "Ratbat: also weird. Query: Ravage should investigate."
That was the last that Prowl heard of their conversation before they were too far away for his sensors to pick up their voices. Perhaps they would return soon, but he did not think that he would have much warning as to when any of them were going to grace him with their presence. They were just that good at evading any of the sensors that could be, legally, set up around the shop or within it. Jazz would be happy to install them, but if they were ever found and reported, he could be brought up on charges. It would not be worth whatever little he could gain from them. Perhaps he should invite him over, even though he had no need for his less than savory skills at that time. That was something to think about until the next customers came in.