Mirage took the time before the inaugural Book Club meeting to settle into a routine. He needed to steady himself and ease his pace to what he expected to be a long adjustment period. Until more of his former comrades returned to their homeworld, Cybertron would be a Decepticon planet. That meant certain social obligations.

He did a shift with the Archive Project to see if the draw on his CPU was something he could sustain without leaving him even more disconnected than he already felt. It was dull, as Thundercracker had said. Filework and background processing he didn't have to think about but taxing enough he didn't have the focus to resolve anything else. That meant he didn't stew over the future though it also meant he couldn't watch Tempest as closely as the increasingly adventurous sparkling warranted.

He put his designation down as a casual volunteer rather than commit to specific hours, the same as his conjunx. The noble also joined the waiting list for the next 'recreational' art class run by trainees in the therapy program to hone their praxis on the stable, again with Thundercracker. There was no need for his compulsory chaperone to be bored.

For air, and to prove to himself he wasn't hiding behind the Seeker, Mirage went to the Parole Office to lodge his change of address documentation personally. Certainly Soundwave could have done it but that wasn't the point. The Host had looked at him then hadn't offered. Ravage came with him and didn't say a word but that was better than riding herd with Overkill, Slugfest, and Ratbat sent to 'play outside' after an epic pillow fight had filled the lounge with upholstery snow.

He got looked at. Mirage was used to that. There were about a dozen Autobots not quite loitering at the Parole Office, there was a side-room with salvaged comfyish chairs, only some of whom he recognised. He queued. No one initiated a conversation, which he hoped was reluctance to be overheard by a visibly lurking Ravage. Maybe it was.

The former spy hurried back to Soundwave's quarters. He had left Tempest recharging closely monitored by Thundercracker. This was the first time they had been substantively separated. They needed to know if there would be any deterioration. No one was happy about the prospect but they had to check. Knock Out was on standby.

Tempest was still in recharge when Mirage looked in. Thundercracker stood from the berth to rush to the door before pausing then so-casually gesturing to the sparkling. The jet vented meditatively as his conjunx checked on their bitlet. Everything was fine. Everything was on an upward trajectory and if not 'good' yet then it had adequate signs of becoming good enough soonish.

"I'm going to take a sedative and have a wash." The Seeker wasn't going to cry or make a spectacle of himself. He wouldn't have said anything except he needed Mirage to stay here with Tempest. Ideally he'd like to go for a flight. He wasn't there yet. Later, once he'd convinced himself things really would be okay. Or found someone who'd fly with him and carry the Autobot so they could bring the sparkling.

"I will mind him." Mirage heard what he wasn't being asked.

Such was Thundercracker's trust in his secondary conjunx that when they left for the Book Club two cycles later, he was a shiny jet. His mid-blue plating gleamed. He could, and did and had, linger in the wash-racks. There was no need for him to hover as though he was a broody Rotor. It helped very much that Tempest was responding to him well. There was still some discomfort, he had to be patient, but barely any crying.

"If no one comes, do we stay for the whole booking?" They were early and Thundercracker was pacing between the door and the single window. Their allocated rec room was in the middle of the port side of the converted freighter. It had exterior access only through to a communal hallway however the docking hatch had been removed to make a generous picture window. The view was ubiquitous; bombed out ruins. And sky. Sky was always good to see.

"Someone will come." Mirage reassured, again. "In the unlikely event no one is interested or polite enough to send their regrets or there is some unexpected confusion, we will stay." He was standing by the window considering the real estate. When the Seeker completed another circuit to join him, he remarked. "You can check the Hub."

"No one's posted anything new." Thundercracker didn't feel as bad as he did waiting for deployment or in disciplinary hearings. Pretending he wasn't nervous never worked. "Maybe they didn't like the reading list."

"Believe me, if any Autobot didn't like something I suggested, we would know." The noble had better manners than to sigh. The commentary had been tedious. "At length, in detail, with personal reproofs."

"If anyone runs their vocaliser at you, tell me." He wouldn't go in punching. "Conduct violations get extra duty shifts. They'll know to keep their opinions to themselves." Something in Mirage's expression made him add. "It can be done anonymously while still logged officially. You won't be bullying or setting yourself up for reprisal."

"Thank you for your concern." Mirage surprised himself by being sincere and believing the Decepticon meant it. "I would prefer to cruise sedately past unruffled as my governess advised."

"Serene above." The expression was clearly a quote, the glyphs archaic but the sentiment resounded between them. They had both been told often they were beyond the trivial concerns of the commons and thus should rise above any pettiness. An ironic congruence with the rallying cry to 'Rise Up'.

"Hey? Anybot?"

The call from the hallway distracted Mirage from a confidence he would probably have regretted sharing. The Autobot moved towards the door slowly, allowing Thundercracker to overtake him so the Seeker could position himself protectively. Working with creator protocols helped the programming run more smoothly.

Beachcomber stuck his helm around the door then waved, strolling in flanked by a green and white mech with odd kibble. There was some wing flicking between the two 'Cons, which settled quickly. No one was threatening or jostling for position. As the ranking officer, it was Thundercracker's task to make introductions.

"How formal do you wish to be?" The jet asked Mirage before he launched into the usual peer-to-peer. He didn't know how well his conjunx got along with the pacifist. They'd been on Earth so he knew a lot more about the dune buggy than he needed but that was just facts not how he really spun.

"Oh, are you courting?" Beachcomber smiled warmly.

"No, we have bonded." Mirage corrected. Surely the geologist had noticed the modification to his designation.

"Sure, you said, yeah." He nodded, still smiling. "Hoist said you were living together as part of your parole but I mean, are you personally together? Is it a noble thing, the courtesy and correctness?" He glanced at Fractyl for clarification. The Predacon shrugged. "Were you affianced before the war? Or is this a high caste legal obligation? Does Hound know?"

"Why would the jeep know?" Thundercracker inquired nearly calmly, the scout's designation standing out sharp to him among the blather. Could be coding flaring jealously at the suggestion someone else had input with his conjunx. It could also be a security issue as he was unaware that 'Bot was on Cybertron.

"Hound was affiliated with my Tower." Mirage explained curtly, not wanting to discuss the relationship a young noble might or might not have had with a rugged gamekeeper. The Seeker's optics flared but he heard the tacit details and didn't want to have that conversation in front of an audience either.

"You were friends on Earth." Beachcomber remarked then stopped then looked from the racer to the jet. "I'm sorry. I seem to have driven over something." He mentally reversed. Was there something subterfuge-y going on? "This, between the two of you, this wasn't part of the armistice, was it?"

"I'm not a hostage." The spy assured rapidly, relieved he wasn't being accused of being a spy. "I'm not with Thundercracker as surety." He wasn't sure how much of his private affairs the Seeker wanted publicly known, though if Skywarp was running his vocaliser, mecha on lost colonies would know.

"It is a high caste thing." Perhaps he should make an official announcement like they did before the war. That would get right up 'Screamer's thrusters. Thundercracker consciously relaxed his wings. "It's personal. For Tempest." He didn't want to bring attention to the sparkling. Everyone was doing a good job of not noticing the little one in the sling. "Mirage and I are not involved." Maybe that would get back to his trine and cool them off. "There're certain matters of respect."

"That sounds stuffy." Beachcomber didn't hide his dismay. "Wouldn't it be nicer to just relax?" Thank Primus, the war was over. "I've got some dross. We could just read aloud and smoke, you know? Ease."

"No one is getting stoned around my sparkling!" The Seeker snapped. "Where in the Pit did you get the stuff?" He demanded, at Fractyl because no sane mech would sell intoxicants to an Autobot parolee. Not even Swindle would risk it.

"Him." The beastformer unhesitatingly confessed as a red grounder sauntered into the room. The mech put the brakes on fast when Thundercracker target-locked on him.

"Greetings?" The Neutral tried a grin. "Here for the Book Club?"