PJ Chronicles 4- First Impression
Something about the quiet tactician, something about the cool façade that promised roiling passion beneath, something about the elegant sweeps of his armor- something about Prowl commanded Jazz's entire attention.
Prowl turned and caught him staring.
Instantly, Prowl's gaze ensnared him, making him feel like a butterfly in a spider's web, a specimen being examined by careful white fingers, all-seeing optics penetrating his armor and baring his insides.
Prowl's fingers shifted their hold on his datapad. Jazz twitched.
"Jazz," Prowl said, simply. It was not a greeting; it was a neutral statement that Prowl knew that Jazz was standing there and that he had been staring.
Jazz faltered for a second, then tried to push his bright, easy smile to his face.
"Heya, Prowler." Jazz felt his lips move, his vocalizer forming sounds from a great distance away. Those examining hands turned him over, inspecting.
Prowl's doorwings fluttered.
"My designation is Prowl."
Jazz's lips curved up, the fluorescent ceiling lights glinting off the small stretch of Jazz's exposed denta.
"A mere nickname, Prowler m' man." The name curled pleasantly around his tongue.
Prowl's lips twitched in a hint of a smile
"Nice to meet you too, Jazz."
Author's notes: the story is not in chronological order.