"Everyone's glaring at me, Prowler," Jazz whispered as they stopped at the outpost an orn's drive from the crystal border walls of Praxus. Prowl's flashing doorwings had warded off most of the unfriendly clusters of Praxian femmes and the occasional divebombing mech, but the open hostility bothered the normally sociable Polyhexian.
"Outsiders only come here to try to harm us. You being here with me confuses them," Prowl replied before turning and openly embracing Jazz while speaking loud enough for the others to hear. "I hope to see you again after I finish laying."
"I'll be waiting."
"Promises," she murmured.