"Well this is an absolutely miserable time of day. Do you think we could pick up a drink before you start interrogating me? I had a long night satisfying a troupe of very lovely dancers from Stanix, and they wanted another round of fun before this incident disrupted our activities," the black and white mech flickered his visor as he casually stepped under the crime scene barrier and approached the crouched detective studying the scene. He seemed unbothered by the energon splattered on the wall of his building.
Prowl growled, "Only you could turn a deactivation into an excuse to talk about yourself."*
Jazz look at him curiously, "Well, who else would I talk about? The frame over there with a hole blown through his chestplate?"*
"I realize that you think this is somehow a game, but a mech has offlined, and I need to focus on this crime scene," Prowl glared at the mech he was certain had something to do with it. Ever since Jazz Unicron had come to Praxus he'd been nothing but trouble with that debauched club of his. The arrogance was especially annoying given he seemed to be able to get almost anyone to do exactly what he wanted.
"Why are you in my precinct not in stasis cuffs?" Prowl glared at the smooth talker who'd just strolled into the precinct in as if he owned it. He hadn't found proof but he was certain that the mech had changed his name just to attract the kind of thrillseekers that seemed to flock to that club.
Jazz smiled and looked at Prowl, "I'm now an official civilian consultant for the Praxian Enforcers. Not that there's anything civil about Unicron. What fun would that be?"*
"Let me guess; you've been assigned to me," Prowl clenched his fists trying not to scream in frustration.
"Who else would I want to work with?" Jazz asked with a small grin and a flicker of darkness in his visor.
A/N: paraphrased quotes from the Lucifer tv series: "Sweet Kicks" and "St. Lucifer"