"Can't you see it!"

"Arcee, what do you think?"

The femme shifted her breakfast tray, turning and looking over her shoulder plating at the other servants. "Think about what?," she asked, confused.

The other 'bots groaned a little, one plump femme throwing aside her cleaning rag in annoyance. "C'mon, girlie!," the old matron scoffed. "Surely, ya noticed! I mean, the Lord has never acted like this -for any 'bot! And I mean, to spend credits on a mech he wouldn't put to work. I think it's rather strange, dontcha?"

A round of nodding helms met the older femme's words.

"It's true, ya know," noted a younger mech. He looked at his companions, leaning heavily on his broom. "The lord's never bought a 'bot as beautiful as that mech before. I think it's very odd that he hasn't made a move yet."

"I-it's not that odd...," a feeble, youngling femme slave commented. "I-i mean, milord is very slow i-in his methods."

"Slow nothing!," said the older femme again. "The master- forgive my glossa- but he is oblivious as the sun is to the grass. He doesn't notice anything, especially not about his own feelings."

"Ummm...," Arcee interrupted, having gotten lost with the other servants' rambling tangents. "What did you want me for again?"

"Tell us!," the others cried. "Are the master and that slave courting or not!?"

The maidservant shuttered her optics wildly at the unexpected question, almost fumbling her tray and dishes in the process. "Well, uh...," she mumbled.

"C'mon, he's gotta be," the mech argued. "I mean, how can he keep a 'bot like that and not want to be closer to him? If not for a physical affair at the least," he whispered off to the side, nudging the timid little slave.

"Oh, hush you!," exclaimed the aged servant, smacking the mech upside his helm. "Don't be so lewd with the youngling; you'll terrify her."

"O-okay," Arcee interrupted, shifting her grip and holding one servo up. "Before we get carried away, I think you should all take into account that Tracks is, umm... well, less than h-hospitable towards his current situation. A-and even if master is so inclined to him, he d-does not seem willing to act upon it. Indeed, I believe he is just innocently concerned about Tracks' well-being."

The gossipers waved off the Autobot's words, snorting in disdain. "I hardly see how that's even possible," the old femme said. "Perhaps the young mech indeed does not care for our Lord, but that mech certainly likes his precious lil' ditty well enough. Innocent my aft... I can scarcely believe he's not trying to woo that there 'Tracks', as you call him."

"I-i-i'm sure his r-rescue will convince lord T-tracks of milord's c-conviction," the slave femme commented.

"Lord nothing! He ain't no 'lord' yet, just an over-priced who-"

"I'll ask that you silence yourself right there! He is my charge, and I will not have you talk of him like that," Arcee warned. The mech startled at the terse tone, almost losing balance with his broom. The matron once more smacked him, giving him a frightening scowl in the process.

"Now," the maidservant said slowly, "Whatever you might have heard around the villa, I'm going to have to say is false. Tracks has suffered terribly from his near assault, and my lord is just as grievous about the heinous crime. He's kept himself well away from Tracks, knowing how easily he might upset my charge. That is not love- it is the same kind and caring devotion my lord shows to us all. He only wishes for Tracks to be happy, in any way possible. So please, do not pester him or my lord with these, these... gross mentions of frivolous interfacing."

The other servants looked away guiltily, mumbling indiscernible apologies. "If that is all," Arcee sighed, "I must then be getting back to my duties." She bowed a little to her fellow workers, before turning and heading on down the hall.

"...I-i-i still t-think milord l-likes dear T-tracks...," the timid one whispered once the Autobot had gone out of hearing range.

"Oh, we all do, dearie. We all do."

xxXxXxx

The court seemed to be extra busy today. Soundwave walked through a tight crowd, almost annoyed by how close they pressed on either side of him; his processor bombarded with an assortment of different thoughts from the courtesans. Trying to close off as many of them as possible, the telepath hurried for the Emperor's throne.

Megatron was listening avidly to Shockwave, who was leaning over the side of the silver Decepticon's chair, whispering something into his audio. "Soundwave," he greeted, when the councilor was close enough. "We need to talk."

The Emperor rose, and the whole audience responded in accordance. Waving them off to their previous tasks, Megatron stepped down from the podium, making for the first corridor to his left. Soundwave followed obligingly. Servants and slaves were dispersed throughout the hallway thinly, attending their chores. Both Decepticons ignored them, walking silently for a few more kliks.

"I hear you made a bit of a scene in town yesterday," the Emperor began. He looked back at the telepath, optic ridge lifted curiously.

"Apologies, Lord Megatron," Soundwave replied. "Fact: Did not mean to-"

"Don't apologize," Megatron interrupted. "They were lowly ruffians and they got what they deserved. I hear they attacked your new slave. I wouldn't expect anybot to act any less in that situation." The tyrant looked back at Soundwave again. "How does the Autobot fare now?"

The councilor hesitated, not expecting the question. "Status: he is... unwell at the moment."

"Hmmm... unsurprising. I hope he is better soon," the silver Decepticon commented. "I would not want you to be deprived for longer than necessary. Especially since he is your first concubine."

Soundwave felt his fuel tanks roil uneasily. He supposed he shouldn't have been that surprised, considering Megatron had said some of the same things the first week he had bought Tracks... but it was still unsettling, having anybody -his Emperor included- refer to Tracks as a simple whore.

"Affirmative...," the telepath replied instead, hesitating. It was best if he didn't think about those other things anymore.

Megatron smirked, stopping in his stride and turning about face to his subordinate. "Don't worry about the incident in the alley; I've already had Shockwave clean up the loose strings. I'm not going to punish you," he explained, "There's no crime in protecting your property."

"Now, go," the Emperor dismissed, patting Soundwave's shoulder armour quickly. "Your villa awaits for your return."

Bowing his helm, the councilor turned on his heel and hurried back down the other end of the corridor.

xxXxXxx

Arcee curtseyed as Soundwave approached, straightening up and facing her master. "He still has not moved...," the femme whispered to the silent question hanging in the air. "And he's only nibbled at his lunch, my lord. It's almost like last time... but, I fear, things may only worsen."

Acknowledging her concerns, the councilor turned his attention to Tracks' bedroom door. "Action: shall visit him and assess the situation. Order: go and collect some flowers from the gardeners. Preferably something enlightening. Shall place them in Tracks' room."

"R-right away, my lord!," the Autobot bowed, turning and rushing off giddily. Soundwave waited until her chipper thoughts had gone out of range, before he reached forward; opening the door and entering into the winged mech's room.

Tracks was sitting on the thin couch by the window, his optics fixed to the sky above unseeingly. He did not turn his helm or do anything else that showed he noticed the Decepticon's presence. Slowly, so as not to frighten the other mech, Soundwave walked forward and stood in clear view at the end of the couch. "Inquiry: how are you this orn?," he asked.

The slave shifted his focus to the councilor, some sort of emotion flashing again in those dazzling optics. Despite the temptation, Soundwave withdrew from the rising swell of emotions echoing in Tracks' helm; wanting to give the Autobot more privacy and respect at this moment. Tracks did not notice, drawing his shawl tighter around himself.

"...What do you want?," he hissed.

Soundwave was almost glad to see that vehemency return.

"Fact: nothing. Only wi-"

"Liar!," Tracks snapped, getting up. "You chased after me, you killed those 'bots because they were touching me... Don't sit there and tell me that your visit then has anything to do about checking in on my well-being. You're just eager to know if your whore is still functioning!"

"Negative," Soundwave tried to explain. "Fact: was not intention of visit."

The Autobot sneered, turning and crossing the room. "Then what's all this for?," he asked mockingly, pointing to the vanity, the bed and armoire. "All these beautiful, luxurious things... If I'm not being pampered so I can be your slut, then why the slag do I need all this scrap for!"

Glaring at the councilor, Tracks whispered lowly, "If you didn't care about others touching me, then you should have let those thugs just rape me. Let that prove that you don't want me."

Soundwave was understandably aghast at the statement. "Fact: They were hurting you... No one has the right to do that. Status: they needed to be punished in accordance."

"And what about you then...?," the slave said, sitting down tersely on the berth. "Who will punish you?"

The telepath didn't know how to respond to that. "Fact: Hope that you feel better soon. When you feel up to it, we may go to the market again," he informed. He hesitated a moment, before deciding to head to the door. He glanced back at Tracks, who was still sitting stiffly. "Wish: have a good afternoon."

Then he left.

xxXxXxx

Tracks didn't know what to do.

He watched as the Decepticon left, before sitting down on his bed. His servos were still clutching at his shawl, almost circling his shoulder tires like claws. He could feel himself trembling still, and Tracks hated it.

He shuttered his optics and he remembered that dark alley...

Arcee dressed him, and he remembered that one femme's grasping digits around his neck cables...

No matter what it was, everything acted as a trigger, drawing him back to that frightening moment. The Autobot had honestly thought he was going to be raped and killed, and yet, Soundwave had shown up in the nick of time. Not only had the councilor saved him, but the blue mech had taken measures to make sure that Tracks was cared for.

From what Arcee had told him, Soundwave had ordered that all servants keep quiet while working this hallway, so as not to disturb him with their noise. The guards had been ordered to make their patrols well away from the slave's room, and that no one, under any circumstances, was to enter into Tracks' room- the exception being Soundwave and the maidservant herself.

No matter what the femme said, that sounded like stupid opportunist decisions right there.

And yet, the Decepticon had not taken this chance with Tracks' paranoia to catch the Autobot unguarded. It baffled the winged mech and put him on edge even more. Soundwave's "concern" wasn't helping any.

Tracks turned and glared out his window, knowing in his spark that he had to hurry up and get out of this place before it was too late.

xxXxXxx

He had not noticed that he had dozed off until Arcee came into his room.

"Good evening," the femme greeted as she hurried over to the vanity. She set down her dinner tray, grabbing the small vase that she already had sitting on it and placing it on the vanity, just to the left of the mirror.

"They're beautiful, aren't they?," Arcee chirped, looking at the mech excitedly.

"Lisianthus?," Tracks mumbled, staring dully at the flowers. "And Iris, Jasmine and Hydrangea?"

He turned a scowling glance to the maidservant. "What are these for?"

"Well, um," Arcee blushed, lifting up her tray again. "Lord Soundwave asked if I would get some flowers from the garden for you. I believe he thought that they might help cheer you up and make you feel better."

She pulled a small table towards the bed, setting down each of the dinner plates she carried. Tracks eyed the delicacies and canter but did not move forward to touch anything. Before he could comment though, Arcee was jabbering on once more. "I think it's real nice and all, what master has done so far. You know, he was real scared when you disappeared back in town. Everybody is talking about it too," she said, as she continued with her tasks, "He was ever so relieved that he found you in time before those thugs could cause you any harm. Getting mugged like that, oh, it must have been horrible! But, lord Soundwave was able to bring you back safe and sound."

"Now he just wishes you to feel better again. The flowers certainly brighten up the room a little, don't they?," the femme finished. She stepped back, curtseying. "Anyways, I hope you like tonight's dinner. The meat is especially great tonight."

"...you can go now," Tracks said, turning his helm to the side.

"Oh, but...," Arcee mumbled in surprise.

"I'll eat...," the mech replied lowly. "Just leave."

"O-okay..." The maidservant bowed, shuffling for the door. "I'll come back in half a cycle then."

Once she was gone, Tracks got to his pedes, ignoring his dinner for the time and heading for his vanity. He stood silently before the furniture, his gaze locked on the vase full of flowers. He lifted his servo, intent on knocking the bouquet to the floor, but hesitated; his servo simply hanging there above the vase.

His thoughts were... conflicted for once.

He could hurt that Decepticon for even daring to think he could just give flowers to him and expect the slave to suddenly be okay with his imprisonment.

Yet... the councilor had not told the others about him almost being raped either. In fact, the Decepticon seemed determined to keep such news secret between those who already knew. As if he cared not only for Tracks' well-being, but also his dignity.

It was...

"Slag!," Tracks hissed, whirling around and stomping back to his bed.