Grasping a Chance 6: The Definition of Friends
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Jazz sat next to Wing on the public transport, watching the city pass them by, watching the other passengers watch them. It wasn't hard to guess that a Knight was not a common sight on a transport anywhere. While Wing was outwardly composed, Jazz was close enough to catch the periodic flicker of distress or light grief that passed through it before being caught and quashed.
He didn't know where they were going, or why, or even how long they'd be gone. Wing had simply said he needed to do something and promptly started to drag Jazz all over the afternoon market in the local district until he found a potted crystal flower in a specific shade of pink, which Wing paid far too many credits for in Jazz's opinion, but Jazz had no use for flowers, potted or otherwise. Then got on this transport to the far side of the city.
"So do I get to know why we're out?" Jazz asked, getting rather impatient with not knowing.
"I've been ignoring a friend," Wing said quietly, not really wanting to be overheard. "He's quite upset with me."
Jazz's optics cycled, trying to process that. "So you are...?" He asked quietly, giving Wing at least that much respect, but not letting the subject drop.
"Going to apologize, try to make amends," he finished the statement. "The plant is a gift. I hope it smoothes things over a bit."
"And why do you care, if he's so angry? Seems to me it would be easier to move on." Jazz commented as the transport came to a stop and he followed Wing from their seats.
Wing gave one of those twitches that meant Jazz had said something so far outside his reality that Wing was having a hard time working out how to respond.
"Because he's my friend," Wing eventually tried as he led Jazz on a crowded walkway along residential blocks in an industrial section of the city.
"Right." Jazz said, letting the conversation drop and settling himself in for seeing what Wing was going to do. He had learned a lot this way, and this was just another thing that he didn't understand, but had the feeling that he was going to have to if he wanted to survive here.
They got looks from folks, but it wasn't quite the same. Many of these folks seemed to at least recognize Wing, if the friendly nods, smiles and waves that he returned were anything to go by.
Which led to a good question. What in the world had Wing so familiar with heavy industry bots?
Jazz was still mulling that one over when Wing headed inside one of the buildings and got on a lift, punching in the 23rd of 87 floors.
The lift rose smoothly and quickly, in good repair and well maintained, just like everything else that Jazz had encountered in the city, and so different from what he was used to.
"So what am I supposed to do while you are busy?" Jazz asked as the lift drew to a stop.
"Umm, maybe pick up something about friends?" Wing suggested as he stepped into the hallway, nodding to a couple residents that belonged far more than either of them did. "Friends are good to have."
His charge just huffed, field full of doubt as he watched the mecha they passed cautiously. Wing chuckled at the response before he paused in front of a door, distinguished only by a number, and pinged for admittance.
There was a long pause, and Wing began to fidget.
Eventually the door slid open to a mid-sized mech only a few fingers taller than Wing, but heavier built with what looked like might even be war-grade armor. One sniff and Jazz knew otherwise. It was smelter-grade armor, painted black, silver and red with blue and yellow highlights. This mech worked with high-temperature molten metal, and left the blast mask on by habit.
"What?" he growled, glaring at Wing with fierce blue optics.
"Umm, hi Marchwind," Wing shifted, even more unsteady. "I know I've missed our last few dates, and I'm very sorry. May I come in, try to explain?"
The smelter-bot glowered at Wing until the Knight began to really squirm, then huffed and stepped back. "Come in. Who's your shadow?"
Wing let out a long vent of relief, his wings quivering at the release of tension. He stepped inside the simple, working-class apartment. A single room with a berth, a couple chairs, a simple entertainment center and a shelf of bookfiles and nick-knacks. The walls were anything but standard though. Those were full of images. Mecha, buildings, flowers and less identifiable things. Wing featured in three that Jazz could pick out, and might have been in two others. There weren't much of the other Knights though.
"This is Jazz. He's why I've been so distracted lately," Wing explained with apology thick in his harmonics.
At the mention of his designation, and the fact that he was the reason for Wing's shortcomings, Jazz focused on the other mech, his attention drawn from his surrounds except for escape routes. There really wasn't much. A window that wouldn't be an easy fit and the door, that thankfully Marchwind was on the far side of him from.
If he was the other mech, the offender would be beaten into a pile of wire and components, if Wing had transgressed as badly as the Knight was making it out to be.
Marchwind focused on Jazz before looking at Wing again. "He's not really your type."
"Get your processor out of the gutter," Wing snorted, seemingly back to himself as he crossed his arms over his chest. "He's my charge. The Sovereign assigned him to me until he's ready to be on his own. We're really not supposed to be out this far, but with that message..." Wing's tone went back to the apologetic warble.
A small shift in Marchwind's stance indicated there might be a small smile under that blast mask. "Nice to know you haven't changed that much."
"I got the point," Wing ducked his helm and brought the small plant out of subspace, offering it. "Peace?"
Marchwind just shook his helm and sighed. "Peace," he accepted the pot with one hand and teased Wing's finials with the other.
And left Jazz staring at both of them, confused. "So just what was that all about?" He finally asked.
"We have a standing meeting at Riddle Quest's on the first of every decaorn," Marchwind explained. "He's missed several. I finally commed asking if he was still functioning."
Wing grimaced. "I still get distracted by a new shiny."
"It's not the distraction that gets you in trouble," Marchwind huffed as he found a spot for the flower. "It's the fixation that you develop shortly afterwards."
Jazz had to hide a snicker at the comment, even as he tried to process the apparent relationship between the two. It was so odd, the way they interacted, and he wondered what price was passed between for their arrangement, and what had started it in the first place.
"Sit down," Marchwind motioned to the chairs he had, or rather the smaller of the two. "Since Wing's going to be fixated on you for a while, I might as well hear all about it."
Wing flopped over the low back of the chair, almost draping himself on Jazz's shoulder so Marchwind could have the larger chair. "But first," Wing's voice was a teasing whisper in Jazz's audial. "First you're going to ask all those questions flitting around your processor because I know that look."
"What?" Jazz grumbled. "Like how did the meetings start, and what do you get from them? And why does he care? Those questions?"
"Those questions," Wing chuckled, his field relaxing and flowing smoothly to wrap around Jazz in a blanket of comfort and welcome. "We met when I was on my walkabout as a new Knight. We go into the city with a few credits and have to spend a century or two with no support or contact with the Citadel or other Knights. You live as a civilian, work whatever you can to earn credits and generally make sure that you really do want to be a Knight of Light. I found out I was absolutely miserable in a foundry, but I got a couple good friends out of the decaorn."
"Wing plus foundry is just begging for Primus' mercy on someone's spark," Marchwind chuckled, a harmonic there that could have been insulting, but clearly wasn't to Wing.
"The meetings started when we found out we both enjoy puzzles, riddle and games of skill," Wing continued with a grin towards Marchwind. "I get to enjoy the company of someone I like, and who likes me. A friend."
"I care because I like Wing's company and he's a friend. A good one," a teasing glint entered Marchwind's optics. "Who's constantly getting into trouble."
"Not that constantly," Wing huffed in objection, something that didn't reach his field.
"And you both do this just for fun?" Jazz said, processing the reason and still working on the bond between the two of them, a sort of easy going humor full of true affection.
"Of course," Wing nodded. "We're friends. We share company because we like the company."
"You don't have any friends?" Marchwind looked at Jazz in disbelief.
"He's been in a warzone his entire functioning," Wing said by way of explanation. "Very new to the city."
"Friends were the people you could recharge around without worry that you weren't going to boot up." Jazz said, defining his understanding of the term up until now.
Deep sorrow slithered through Wing's field before dissipating, and Marchwind simply stared at him in complete lack of comprehension.
"A life in war," Wing murmured. "Even such fundamentals are lost. Under that definition, I don't think there is anyone in the entire city you that wouldn't qualify as a friend. But it means something very different here. It's someone you trust, yes, but it's someone you like."
"So what else are friends?" Jazz asked.
"Friends can be a lot of things, but I think that's a good working definition that covers it. A friend is someone you trust you're safe around and you like being around," Wing decided as much as said.
Jazz hummed, storing that away and wondering if he would ever be able to use the term to define a relation between himself and another mecha.
"Isn't there anyone you like to be around?" Wing asked gently.
The brightly colored red and blue mech considered for a while before answering with a shrug. "I don't mind being around you or Prowl or Thorn. Demeter is tolerable too."
But actually liking being around them, that Jazz wasn't sure about it. He still preferred to be by himself. Alone was safest, even if he did sometimes indulge in company. He was always very careful in his company, and he never sought them out just because he wanted to be with one particular mecha.
"Well, we're just going to have to work on that, then," Wing got that determined edge to his field that never boded well for the subject about to get flattened by his particular brand of explosive enthusiasm. "A functioning without friends is a sad, lonely one."
"How would you know?" Jazz asked, a sarcastic edge to his tone.
Wing just kind of stared at him, then cocked his helm. "Because I know what having friends is like, and how lonely and sad it is when I can't be around any of them."
"And do all friends always make up?" Jazz asked, looking between the two other mecha in the room. "And what if I don't want to be some someone's friend?"
"No, friends don't always make up, and sometimes friends drift apart," Marchwind said, relaxing in his chair. "Sometimes they become more too. Lovers, or mates."
"Friendship is mutual. If you don't want to be someone's friend, you aren't. Remember the definition of a friend here? It's someone you like spending time with, that you enjoy the company of, and that you feel safe around. If both sides don't feel that, then it's not a friendship." Wing said.
"Sounds easy enough." Jazz said, though his field revealed that he understood it was not nearly as easy as it sounded. With that he settled in his chair, visor dimming a little as he mulled over what he had learned as Wing and Marchwind continued to catch up.