If this was a dream, he should've woken up by now.

That was the strange thing as he saw the beach from Smokescreen's windows and went through the process of getting out of the car once they were nerby, seeing the Autobot transform to his real form, and trying to navigate what looked to be an endless patch of sand that formed of what they trekked upon as the coast of Lake Michigan. This had to be some sort of dream where Smokescreen was some friendlier alien that could only have existed in storybooks. It was a dream come true for any child to be sure. He held no doubt that his inner kid was practically over the moon, yet… even so, dreams needed to end at some point, and he wondered how much fire he was playing with by continuing to engage in this.

Seeing Smokescreen not take particularly well to the sand was an amusing sight at the very least, though he tried to keep his laughter contained. The sluggishness began to bear down on him more as he tried to find a place to seat, directing Smokescreen where he could and making sure that his feet weren't risking mounds of grains being lodged into the metal. He needed to learn more terms to describe Cybertronian anatomy, considering how strange it felt to use the more human terms that had been ingrained in him since childhood. With some consternation in the background, it was enough for Roland to be alert enough to find a suitable place to sit and watch out for anyone that may have been around.

The chance was miniscule but nothing was ever non-zero. After tonight, there were so many things that could've been possible to the point where he didn't even want to rule out the most unlikely of circumstances.

He called for Smokescreen, yelling for his name through the breeze. It wouldn't be long until both would find a place to settle in. The image of an Autobot being at his beck and call for that moment was a surreal one, seeing that Roland couldn't help but feel an unerring sense of intimidation and fear anytime he saw Smokescreen's true form. Really, 'classified' videos and leaks didn't do justice to how huge these Cybertronians truly could be. He wondered how it was for people that somehow regularly worked with these beings, having to get used to not only the imbalance in size and scale, but also how one gets over the fear of not being literally turned into gore. Perhaps one gets used to it in a sense, but even so, Roland was careful not to get too close as he saw Smokescreen try to amble through the sand. It was only when the Autobot found a place to sit that Roland felt it safe to approach.

If there were more Decepticons… well, he'd rather be nearby the Autobot if there was another attack.

"Eugh, how do you humans handle all of this? I don't think it'll be a problem cleaning this out from my gears, but it's not the most pleasant thing either."

If a sports car ever had a prideful personality, Smokescreen embodied it. Roland couldn't help but find a bit of mirth, one that he tried to hold back when he saw the Autobot's faceplates shift to a confused questioning.

"Are you…" Smokescreen would point a finger on his own… head? Helm? Either way, Roland got the message, quickly nodding as he tried to assemble some sort of explanation in his head.

"I am," Roland heaved a sigh as he stared out into the dark environs that surrounded them and the lake that lapped about. "You get used to sand. I just like it here because you can get away from things for a bit. It's way worse when you're…" He had to pause here, knowing that using human parlance would cause some confusion. "Like imagine if you landed near one of the oceans. It's way worse out there, like in New York or Los Angeles." He almost wanted to berate himself for listing possibly the two most stereotypical cities.

"Oh, those places… Can't say I've ever been to them." Smokescreen paused here for a moment, before craning his head down towards the human. "This is really the only place I've been in and… don't say this if you ever meet any of the other Autobots, but I got lost." There was a slight shame in his voice when he said so.

"That's a lot of people, Smokescreen. I… haven't lived in this state for so long actually." Roland knew that it was inevitable they'd start sharing, or at least before he would start talking about who they were. "You mentioned you needed to go to some place called Tranquility, right?" He had no idea what that place even was, though it was something a quick google search later would probably help him with.

"Yeah, to regroup with Optimus Prime. I heard a message from him, telling us Autobots to go to this planet. There's a whole longer story with the Decepticons, I could go on and on… and I'm gonna assume you know nothing of it?"

Roland took a moment to contemplate a response. It wasn't that he knew exactly nothing, but the actual information might as well have been lost to him. It was common knowledge around Earth, even if it was contained amongst more conspiracy minded folk or those 'in the know,' that Cybertronians did exist. 'There were aliens upon us,' the more unsympathetic voices chanted all the time. It got uncomfortable to reckon with the fact that the more unsavory faces and perspectives amongst humanity would eventually come towards the Cybertronians way. It was unsurprising that it did, nor was its fast pace. He shook his head, both as an answer and as a way to exit the rabbit hole of his thoughts.

"I don't really know a lot… I know Optimus Prime does exist, kind of, and I know you all do, but… I guess people here, nobody wants to run into any of you. I don't even know what's going on." And it was the truth.

"You don't even know about the war, don't ya?" Smokescreen asked, to which Roland could only respond with another shake of his head.

A war?... That wasn't a particularly surprising word to drop, but it was more than what he could process at the immediate moment. He was sure Smokescreen could probably sense the panic that was beginning to swirl around his mind and no doubt his body. It was the one explanation that had some sort of sense, but then there was also the implication that Earth was the battlefield being used for a war that probably preexisted his species. Maybe he was just projecting too much speculation, but it wasn't the easiest thing to stomach. It was to the point where he couldn't even follow up with a response for a few seconds. Once he had the wherewithal to look up towards the Autobot, he could see concerned optics glancing down towards him. From there, he finally gave a response by shaking his head no. The best thing to do was to be honest after all, and in truth… he had no idea that there was even a war going on, or maybe he was being far too optimistic, but granted, how do you even project such human characteristics and concepts onto alien beings until you get actual concrete information?

"Shouldn't be too surprised then," He heard the Autobot utter for a moment. For the briefest moment, he could hear a darker undertone in his mechanical voice, something deeper about the war that Roland couldn't comprehend. However, he could see Smokescreen shaking his head before returning his gaze towards the young singer.

"I can go on and on about it. This might be… don't feel like I'm putting you on the spot too much, but I want to learn about you first, and then I'll talk about the war. Sound like a good deal to you?"

"I…" Now that was quite a swerve. Roland wasn't sure how to take it at first. There was no denying that he felt awful about taking up the airtime, unintentional or intentional, of something that was probably far more necessary than his foibles in life. There was a time and space to talk about singing and his life, sure, but his mind couldn't escape the fact at just how Smokescreen seemed to be halfway evading talking about whatever war it is was happening right on their planet's soil. He wasn't sure where to begin only except by answering a question with a question, as gauche as that felt.

"I… why?"

Smokescreen's laugh wasn't a hard one to miss, the shift in mood palpable. When it came to anything else, there was an ease to him that was infectious… something that Roland didn't want to see fade away.

"You must be that tired, huh?" And the Autobot had a way of being rather generous. "Well… you did ask me to take you here, and you've been asking me questions. Figure I might as well get to know the person I rescued from that Decepticon. You haven't really been saying much about yourself except your name. Only fair, right?"

Roland nodded at that, finding nothing that he could really disagree with. It was a matter now of finding a place to start that didn't really undermine and unwind the dignity he was trying to preserve. There was a strange weight of being a de facto representative of humanity in this rather strange situation, even if Smokescreen wasn't really putting him in that position outright. There was also a manner of not wanting to risk oversharing with someone he barely knew, even though there was a part of him that wanted to at least share some things. But again, he could only return to that fundamental question… where does one really begin anyway? He sighed as he percolated multiple possibilities, all of them circling around the fact that he was going to speak about his livelihood and his rather complex relationship to the work he was trying to undertake.

This was all so absurd… this had to be a dream, but then again, he couldn't help but think of a cliché about life that he used as a mantra sometimes. It could be stranger than fiction and it wasn't as if Roland wasn't entirely inculpable for making this hang out happen. He wanted an escape from what he considered to be his normal, at least for a moment. He was at the precipice of jumping into something or this leading into nothing… if this was to be some sort of surreal moment left to a story he would only bequeath to maybe one person at most, perhaps this was to be it.

"Promise me you won't laugh?" He figured he could meet absurdity with absurdity, but really, it was also a genuine question. He prepared an explanation as Smokescreen's face contorted into confusion, optics bearing down on him as he could see the Autobot trying to finagle a response.

"I… don't see why I would, but unless you tell me something ridiculous I shouldn't."

That was also the problem, it was ridiculous in a time of war. He sighed as places to begin finally entered the singer's mind, even though there really wasn't a good place to settle into when it comes to explaining a goal that was at its core a one in a million shot.

"How much do you know of like… our music industry and the singers around here?"

"Not a lot, to be honest. Never really had a chance to explore the culture, really. I heard some stuff when I began to download things from the internet around touchdown, it was okay."

Maybe it was good he only saw and sensed incredulity. That was the benefit of a stranger, it wasn't as if Smokescreen could judge him in a way someone with more knowledge about how things worked around here would. He felt awful for thinking that, but it was the only way Roland could begin navigating this explanation without letting himself recede into not wanting to tell it at all.

"That's fine." Roland paused here, a faint smile overcoming his face. "Well… I work as some sales associate at some shitty store, not the important part. On the side, I… sing. I get gigs at bars where I can and I upload stuff where I can.

"My dream though is to be a professional singer. To do it for a living. To make albums and shit, tour the world…" He was too embarrassed to say that as a child, he had an aspiration to be some sort of pop star that allowed his voice (untrained and raw as it was) to take him all over the world. He just ran short of saying that he desired a career that emulated the Whitney Houstons and Celine Dions of the music business. He went silent there as he evaluated Smokescreen's so far silent response.

That was to be a given. He was an alien, and in a sense he was glad he kept mum on the comparisons. The last time he went through this talk at length with people he knew often resulted in many reality checks that he was still working through. You don't say you want to be the next Whitney or Celine without eyebrows being raised about artistry, but also the implications of aspiring to be a one in a million voice in a model of pop that Roland knew was outdated. Still, that was getting into the weeds of musical debate that he knew was insignificant when it came to life and death matters. The only comparison he could conjure in this moment was discussing these matters with a military serviceperson who couldn't be any less distant from the undertaking he was living in, no less musicians who were more focused on social issues and artistic self-expression than the stardom he was seeking.

"So that's what you were doing when I was driving you…" Now that was an odd direction to go in.

"What do you mean?"

"You hummed a bit before you fell asleep. Had to wake you up once we got here. Sounded you like were whispering but now it makes sense. Guess my receptors are still working…"

Roland realized what Smokescreen had actually meant, a look of fear going through the human's face as he was caught in a habit he'd thought he broke so many years ago. He looked down with a scrunched face, not having meant to have sung, and probably sung horribly, in the Autobot's alt form. He wasn't sure where this embarrassment was coming from or why this was even happening, given how unlikely it was he'd probably ever see Smokescreen again after this. He had an explanation, but it was clear his reticence was noticed, given that he saw a look from Smokescreen that he couldn't read.

"Something wrong?"

"No! no… I just… I didn't mean to do that, I'm sorry if it bothered you-"

"You're totally fine. If anything, you... didn't sound bad at all. Tired sure, but it never bothered me once."

Roland knew that relief was probably obvious on his face. He let the panic settle again, taking a deep breath as he tried to prepare himself for a longer explanation. He was about to speak again until he saw Smokescreen's head lock eyes with him again, an inquisitive look on his faceplates.

"So… explain more to me then, man. Seems you like you got a lot more to say. What's that human expression where you all say that you're willing to listen?... With that body part equivalent to my receptors."

"I'm all ears?"

"Yeah! That's the one."

Roland couldn't help but softly laugh for a moment before he looked down. If this was a moment in some musical, this was where he would probably insert the 'I want' song and express his desires through that kind of medium. This was where he wished he had the voice for such an undertaking, or that life could actually be retrofitted in song. However, this wasn't that kind of existence, and he knew that breaking out into song out of nowhere would probably scare the Autobot. Still, it was the first time in a long time where he had what appeared to be a non-judgmental space to explain his dreams, for a lack of a better word. He doubted he was lucid enough to get to the heart of the matter, but still he would try if only to sate Smokescreen's curiosity.

"When I was a kid, I grew up listening to a lot of old records with some really powerful as hell voices." He began, looking up towards the sky. "People like Whitney Houston and Celine Dion… don't look them up too much, people don't have the nicest things to say about them. But I remember… wanting to be like them. To sing whole bunch of powerful songs with the kinds of voices they have." Absurd as it all sounded, he couldn't stop the nostalgic tone straining his voice with an emotion he can't escape when he even thought or talked about his childhood.

"All I've wanted since I was a young boy was to be a singer just like them. My Dad…"

"Your… sire? Basically? You call them Dads?" It was a temporary interruption by way of an inquiry, which Roland welcomed.

"We call them Dads yeah." Roland couldn't peer his hands away from the stars. He almost wanted to raise a hand to peel away the sight of reality, as if imagining a grander and greater life for himself through the thoroughways of imagination. This wasn't his bedroom however, and no way was he about to repeat that action in front of a stranger. It took him a bit to find the momentum and wherewithal of thought, knowing he needed to get further into the base reasoning as to why he sought after that dream of stardom.

"My Dad realized then and there, to his horror, that I basically told him that I wanted to be a pop star. Not just you know… the kind of pop star you'd probably find now. I'm talking old school. Diva. Big voiced. Lots of vocal training… I wanted to sing whatever kind of song I wanted and mean it. I didn't really… care about writing my own songs. I'm hardly a poet." Roland shook his head at that last part, knowing he was getting into the trenches of where he would lose people's sympathies. He glanced at Smokescreen for a brief second, finding that he was listening intently. Or at least, that's what his faceplates seemed to suggest.

"I'm trying to think here if there's something like you're describing back home… and don't let me stop ya. I'm still listening, don't worry." Was what Smokescreen responded with when the Autobot caught him looking.

"Okay… okay," He paused there, finding a place to restart as he remembered the point he was trying to gander at. "I was a stubborn young boy back then, Smokescreen. Even now still. I grew up not just wanting to be a singer as a career, but that was my dream. I'm one of those big dreamers. It's…" He bit his lip, mostly as an instinctive action to stop himself from getting too emotionally overwhelmed when he went down this line of thinking.

But really, it was a reality check he needed. A part of him felt like he was selling nothing but snake oil to the Autobot, but it wasn't as if he was saying that he was going to be a star. Nobody that worked in the music business, unless they had some form of godly confidence or had connections that could ensure them opportunities, would ever declare themselves to be a star even to themselves. Granted, the industry he was trying to break into always had the tendency to attract strange bedfellows. Still, it was an odd thing to admit that this was the kind of life he envisioned for himself.

To be someone greater than he was, to be the voice of a generation in a way. He was admitting to some profoundly egotistical proclamations that were rather subtle and a part of him wanted to retract everything he just said to Smokescreen and toil in the white lie of just wanting to sing for a hobby, not for a career. Yet still, the chalice and the dream of being a pop star was the carrot on the stick he couldn't evade. It was the promise that, if he was just worked enough, if he just hustled long enough, paid his dues just long enough, then maybe… just maybe, he would find that break in whatever form. He was sounding more and more like those singers from reality TV. It was even more of a trip considering Roland was looking at those very same shows in a last-ditch attempt to make this dream happen.

"I know it sounds really ridiculous, it's just…" He knew this was a terrible time to go down on this road. He bit some inside of his mouth to try and stop the tears or the temptation to cry, but he knew that was a losing battle. "I trained for who knows how long in chasing for something that I knew where the chances of success were astronomically small. I learned how to sing, dance… didn't do so well during my education. But… the chances are really slim I'd actually make it, Smokescreen. I've thought about getting on television… upload videos. I haven't been too lucky, but I've been trying. It's just harder some days than others. And… yeah, that's what I do for a living. I sing where I can when I can."

It was only when he got to the matters of fact that he was able to hold himself just enough that he didn't descend into a blubbering pit. In most cases, he would've already been in tears when he left this topic well enough alone or if he was talking to someone who was either in the industry or at least was adjacent to it. Still, it didn't neuter the fact that he'd come close, and what was meant to be just a simple explanation ended up being a walkthrough of memories of he didn't wish to relive again or a reality check he didn't have the heart to withstand. He saw Smokescreen look down at him with concerned optics again and it was almost surreal that almost every sentiment he seemed to spark from someone who seemed… young, was concern almost all the time.

"Are you… like actually okay? You came close to… I don't know how to put it across." Smokescreen asked, each word spoken so tentatively and carefully.

"To be honest… no, I've been trying. I'm sorry it led to that… I wasn't expecting to get that emotional talking about it. It's been a while." Had the Autobot seen him in that wrecked state just prior to that Decepticon attack… he had even less reason to lie.

"No, you're fine! Really, genuinely." Nervous laughter overcame Smokescreen right after, plaintively clear that the Autobot was at a loss of words after such a story. "I… wish I could have some better words to say rather than just I kinda feel for ya, but I do in a way. I don't know the half of human culture, or really the music you all produce, really. I remember bots back in Cybertron doing so, though I'm not sure if it's to the extent you all seem to do it. I can tell it's hard."

Roland couldn't help but smile at that, even if the words were causing him to risk tearing up again and losing it. He heaved a deep breath and looked towards the Autobot's way, trying to find a suitable response. In a lot of ways, he was glad for Smokescreen's seeming relative innocence to the nuances of Earth culture and how people can be nasty in the realm of entertainment. A part of Roland also felt that it was something the young Autobot shouldn't really be bothered or concerned with… it wasn't lost on Roland that there was some sort of warrior mentality in there somewhere, even if he couldn't pinpoint what exactly Smokescreen carried or make even any educated assumptions.

"Guess I should spill something then," and somehow, he made it sound so easygoing even if there was a weary tone to him? Roland remained silent as he saw Smokescreen stare up into the stars. It was in that moment where he began to feel the gap between human and cybertronian more acutely than before, the eons that Smokescreen probably has lived beyond any human comprehension.

"On the part where you wanna aspire to something greater than you are… slag, that's the part I get. I'm no artist like you seem to be, but when I was a youngling… all I've ever wanted was to be a soldier, to see combat and fight with the best like Optimus Prime." The sense of pride was undeniable in the Autobot's voice and expression, a distant smile on his faceplates as he spoke.

The pride of a young warrior who wanted to make a name for themselves and the fighting spirit of a soldier who wanted to make their cause proud. Or at the very least, that was the closest thing that Roland could conjure as he began to listen in on what Smokescreen had to say. In a way, he was glad that the Autobot had now shown more of a willingness to steer the conversation. It was far easier than being what was ostensibly the subject. There were some terms he had some confusion over, but he figured to save those questions for another time… and more realistically, to let those unknowns remain as unknowns.

"During the war, and we don't have to get into all the nasty details of it… I trained with the Elite Guard, hoping to be a part of them. I think you humans have some equivalent to it, just didn't do enough research when crashed into it. Basically, all you need to know that to be part of the Elite Guard is to be considered one of the best of the best, especially from the Autobot Academy. You following?"

All Roland could do was nod, but in a way, it wasn't too difficult for him so far. He could see Smokescreen follow his with a nod of his own, faceplates shifting to another enigmatic expression that seemed to be endemic to cybertronians. Exhaustion was likely playing a part to it too, but still he didn't want to interrupt with some salvo of needless questions.

"Well… as it turns out, that didn't quite work out. Ended up working in the Hall of Iacon instead just guarding it. Never saw any real combat until I had to…"

Even at the throes of collapse, the emotion in Smokescreen's voice was unmistakable. There was something that almost prompted Roland to reach out and lay some sort of comforting hand or motion, but even so, the size discrepancy made that impossible. There was a pain and trauma there to be sure, but he had no idea what it was or how to gracefully respond to him. His faceplates contorted to a darker look, optics looking over the dark lake whose horizon long disappeared many hours ago after dusk. The human being wondered what the cybertronian was seeing when he saw that sight, whether he was taking in Earth's nature for what it was or reliving memories and thoughts that seemed painful.

"You don't have to talk about it you don't want to." Roland said after a beat of silence, catching Smokescreen with some light surprise. "I'm sorry… for whatever happened."

And there it was, that awfully charming smile and demeanor appearing once more. Of course, it was now tinged with a sorrowful gait to it, but still, there was something comforting about the Autobot's relative ease and his seeming determination.

"Nothing you have to be sorry for. Listen, what happened was difficult for me to stomach, yeah, but… I can't change it now. The story of how I escaped what happened to my home is a long one, and trust me, it'll involve describing the war in more detail. Long story short though, it led me to here once I heard Optimus Prime's signal and let me tell you how glad I was to hear his voice." The giddiness was unmistakable, as if he were a fan teased with the possibility of meeting with a celebrity. "I've always wanted to work with him for a long time, and to know he was in this planet… I don't think I cared what it was. I just wanted to help him."

"I'm… assuming you want to find him, yeah? You mentioned Tranquility… you think that's where he is?"

"Yeah… yeah! Yeah to both. If he's here, there's gotta be more Autobots around here too. Sucks that the Decepticons are here, but that's just par for the course." The thirst for the fight was evident with the way he spoke about comrades and enemies. Roland couldn't describe the tone, but it was something he recognized amongst the military minded folk he'd occasionally see while growing up in the US. "And Optimus Prime… Roland, he's one of the fiercest warriors and greatest leaders to have existed. The fact that he's here… it means this war can be turned around, and that maybe there is a real chance. Anyway, I've rambled long enough. Guess this makes us even?"

A more sullen personality probably would've not been able to stand the smirk from the Autobot, but there was something about the way Smokescreen pulled off the look made Roland's mirth come out aplenty tonight. The latter responded with a quick nod and a smile of his own, relishing in the moment that this engendered. If anything, Roland wondered if Smokescreen ever had a chance to slow down like this. In his mind, what the human was so fond of in those moments was the chance to take in existence as it is, that even within the dramas and throes of careers, negotiations, tending to relationships with others that were likely tenuous at best… in those small moments with people that he loved or those whose company he enjoyed, there was a beauty in those moments of stillness.

These were the moments that made him want to sing if he was being honest. However, he was was too lost in exhaustion to do so. Simultaneously, there was a certain pressure that he enforced on himself especially amongst strangers he didn't want to alienate. The last thing he wanted, even if a part of him knew it was inevitable, was to leave Smokescreen with a terrible impression of his capabilities as a singer. He was hardly the best, but at the same time, he didn't want to leave his training and his work for naught.

"You're pretty fun to talk to, but… agh, I can't ignore entirely what I'm supposed to do. I've mostly just been chasing my wheels since I've gotten here." He heard Smokescreen break the brief and comforting silence. "So, I've been trying to get to Optimus Prime, that's why I need to get to Tranquility. The entry here… did bust my comms systems enough that I can't really reach them."

"I'm sorry about that… have you found another Autobot to help you at all?"

"Nothing to be sorry about, little dude." That was another endearment he didn't expect, but granted, it wasn't something he could refute. Even the most imposing of human beings would be critters in comparison to the average cybertronian. "Nope. I've been… alone for the short time I've been here actually. Surreal as it sounds, you're not just the first human I've talked… you're the first anyone I've had a conversation with."

Now that was a surreal thing to hear. That caused Roland to take quite a heave. It wasn't the most pleasant thing to know that he was the first human that this Autobot spoke to, albeit, he sensed that Smokescreen knew to delineate between who represents an entire race and an individual of one. The other realization that bore upon the human's mind was that one way or the other, it was highly likely that Smokescreen would need to undertake some sort of long-ish road trip through the continental US to make it to Tranquility. At least, he assumed that it wasn't in somewhere in Europe or someplace else… what would be the chances?

Granted, maybe the Autobot would find a way.

"I think I can get there, but… I'm gonna need some help. I just don't really know where to start or how." Smokescreen admitted.

"I… hold on," Roland couldn't help but rummage through his phone for a few seconds to see if there was enough signal. It took some light fiddling around, but it was a pleasant surprise to see that there was still a modicum of phone data. He looked up the name Tranquility on a web browser, albeit the process didn't happen without some fascination from the Autobot.

"You looking up where I'm supposed to go?... Well, some tech is better than none."

He wondered how damaged Smokescreen's systems were in the process of landing. Either way, Roland only responded with a quiet nod as the results came up on the screen. To the Autobot's luck, it seemed as if the city was located within the continental US, westward in Nevada to be more exact. That caused him to take a pause for a moment… that was awfully convenient, even moreso.

Perhaps it wasn't the worst idea to come somewhat clean about what his choices of career were to a stranger. This part he'd left out, but there was a part of him that had been contemplating a last ditch effort to make some sort of move happen by uprooting his life yet again by moving to Los Angeles to audition for some televised talent show. He'd been planning it out mostly as a flight of fancy, but the practicals of it were immobilized by the fact that not only did he lack connections except for maybe online acquaintances who were also trying to break into the business, but there was also one other inconvenient factor… his income and lack thereof. It was already a struggle trying to make it through Chicago. Los Angeles would be another ballgame entirely.

But still… he knew that the upcoming season was soon to dawn upon television screens. The process for signing up was currently on-going. His paper application was probably destroyed in the carnage that the Decepticon wrought. There could be something…

Roland stopped himself when he realized where his mind was heading. As emotionally right as it felt somehow, logically his brain was coming up with some genuinely terrible and borderline manipulative ideas. Now he could not escape the realization that he felt rather disgusting at such a thought, given that he was thinking under the assumption that such ill-thought moves would go incredibly well. Would Smokescreen even be willing to travel with a human being?

"Are you… okay? You've spaced out pretty badly. On that note, some of the faces you humans make are pretty ridiculous."

Neither was Roland expecting a laugh from the aforementioned Autobot, looking up to see mirth radiate from the latter's faceplates and optics.

"I was just thinking. I… realized something when I looked up the place where you needed to go," Roland said, now fully catching the mech's attention. "Tranquility's out west in Nevada. You could honestly road trip it with some help and directions." He was almost tempted to add that going westward was also a move that he wanted to do, but he stayed his tongue.

"Wait… really? How far would it be?" The excitement wasn't hard to miss.

"With no breaks… just a little bit over a day. It depends on the route you take, though. The fastest that my phone is saying is about 30 hours non-stop."

"That's awesome! I just…" The Autobot went silent as his metallic features then bore a more subdued look. "I… might actually need help."

Now that Roland did not expect. He hadn't the temerity to let his reaction be a raised eyebrow, and neither could he deny the hope that was blooming within his mind and heart from where this could potentially be heading. He damned the implications in his mind; he could think about them later.

"My comms are busted… and my navigation systems probably aren't the best either. Do you… slag, this is a stupid idea." Smokscreen uttered that last part under his breath. "You don't have to say yes or feel pressured but… do you think you'd be willing to help, somehow?"

Now that caught Roland by surprise.

He was at a loss of how to respond. Albeit, the obvious way to do it was to ask a question as to what exactly that help would entail. He sincerely doubted it would be to the extent of actually uprooting lives and being the one to personally navigate him to the state of Nevada, tempting as it was to keep that hope alive. On the other hand, it was not as if Smokescreen urgently needed the kind of help that a human being would provide. Sure, phones are convenient, but Roland had a feeling they were awfully primitive compared to the Autobot's fuller capabilities. Still, the part of him that wanted to just say 'fuck it' to the life he was living here honestly didn't mind the prospect of a road trip.

He was young enough to do so… he hadn't any strong roots in Chicago after all.

"I… what do you mean by help, exactly?" Roland asked first.

"Well, that's a really good question," Smokescreen fell silent for a beat, before looking down towards the human with a somewhat determined expression. "First things first, I'm not exactly looking to grind my wheels being lost on a planet I don't know. And well… don't laugh at this, but…"

"I'm not going to." The human immediately responded with, though it didn't exactly stave off the cybertronian's evident disbelief and embarrassment on his faceplates.

"If you say so… well, I don't exactly want to travel… alone. Like I can, and I could probably reach where you say Tranquility is, but I do want some exact directions first and… ah, slag it. This is gonna be ridiculous, but do you think you could help me get there?"

To have that question asked to him was something that Roland did not at all expect. He stayed quiet for a few moments, trying to give the appearance of mediation and care, but he knew the answer to the question. Or at least, the immediate instinctive answer that temptation and impulse presented him with. It was the same impulse that led him to ask Smokescreen to take Evanston after all. He was young enough to fuck it all really… and perhaps it wouldn't be a bad idea after all, even if did entail sacrificing what little stability he could inculcate and what brittle roots he could plant in Chicago's urban jungle.

"You… you want me to go with you? Like an actual real road trip?" Or at least, that was his assumption. He felt his heart drop when he saw the Autobot look confused for a moment as he pondered a response.

"Well… I didn't think of it like that, but honestly, I don't think it'd be a bad idea. I could scan something on that little device ya got there but then there's the question of what happens when I see other humans… and y'know, a road trip, well as you put it, sounds pretty fun actually, and I wouldn't be alone."

The youthful and optimistic aura that Smokescreen exuded had Roland wonder just exactly how cybertronian aging worked. He wanted so badly to say yes, but at the same time, he wondered if both himself and Smokescreen knew of the deeper implications and realities of such a trip. He could think about how to extricate himself from Chicago at a later hour. There was already the rather dangerous aspect of going on a road trip with a stranger, but he knew for a fact that so far, Smokescreen's experience with humans was limited to probably him.

"I… I really want to say yes, I do. It's just…" Logic would begin to win out as he tried to think through what exactly such a trip would entail. "I don't know how urgently you need to get there. I don't wanna slow you down. It's 30 hours without any breaks, but… with me along, you'd have to double it. We're… well we humans can be pretty high maintenance. Like eating, sleeping…"

For as much of a rascal Smokescreen seemed to be, he couldn't help but be swayed be the innocent smile that was shown on his faceplates when he mentioned wanting to say yes. He could see that expression fade quickly however, especially as it looked like the Autobot was contemplating the rather roughly patched together list of precautions when it came to traveling with human beings. Really, travel was stressful even without the factor of one of the companions being a literal living alien robot.

"I don't have to get there that quickly. And… in all honesty, I wouldn't mind taking my time. Your planet seems pretty fascinating and you seem like a fun human to be around. I've done some research as I was landing here on how you all work and… eugh at some of the details, but I think I can handle it. What do you say?"

As much as he'd have to think through the details later, there really was only one answer in Roland's mind. An adrenaline coursed through his body and mind, not one borne out of panic, but one that radiated with an excitement, anticipation, and hope that he hadn't felt in years. He looked up to Smokescreen's face with a real grin.

"I'll help you."