Much, much later, Prowl onlined his optics and realized he felt better than he had in ages. He coughed a bit, clearing his intakes and spiting up bitter tasting liquid. Oh, he thought, that's why I'm feeling so relaxed. I'm laying on Jazz, and he's a vast improvement from the cold, hard floor. Jazz was self-sacrificing like that! Yes, the mech himself was not that much better off than Prowl, but Jazz was always looking out for the other mechs before his own needs. Prowl let himself rest a few more moments against Jazz's smooth, warm plating before pulling himself up painfully on his hands and leaning heavily against the wall. He had heard footsteps approaching down the hall, and if their guards found them in what appeared to be a compromising position (it wasn't everyday that officers slept in each other's laps, even to survive) it could make things that much worse for them both. He could imagine all sorts of cruel games the guards or Megatron might play to pit one against the other if they believed the two of them were somehow involved.
In a voice hardly above a whisper, Prowl spoke into Jazz's audial horn "Thank you, Jazz, for looking out for me. We always have each others back, do we not? So recharge well, my friend. I'll try to keep the Cons busy for a while so you can rest and repair. Don't forget the trick I taught you."
Jazz seemed to hear him, nodding absently in his recharge and moving minutely closer to Prowl's voice. Prowl touched Jazz soothingly on the arm before he shifted further away down the wall. He couldn't get too far as his legs were both mangled. But he shimmied himself sideways toward the door, making lots of noise, trying to draw attention from the quickly approaching guard.
The door swung wide, and another nameless Decepticon drone stood silhouetted against the harsh outer light. The cell itself was cast even deeper into its gloom of twilight. Prowl hoisted his doorwings higher, taking on an air of boredom and superiority.
"So, is Megatron too afraid to face his prisoners that he sends a mere drone in his place? Tell him I'm less than impressed, and his treatment of us is in violation with Treaty…"
Prowl's bating of the Con broke off suddenly as a harsh blow impacted the side of his helm. Points of light spun in his optics, and he fought to keep what little energon he had consumed safely down in his tanks in spite of the nausea the blow caused. Well, it looked like he had the full attention of the guard. Jazz stirred slightly at his side, reacting to the light from the hall and the horrible clang of Prowl's body near his audio.
"Well, we do not want to keep Megatron waiting. I highly doubt he wants grunts like you damaging his prisoners. We are much more valuable to him alive, and I should not have to be the one telling you. Take me to him now!" Prowl had always been almost as good as Jazz at bluffing his way through when needed. Jazz would have been impressed if he had been conscious. Hopefully he had bought Jazz a bit more time…
The Con leaned down to grab Prowl's backplating, dragging him out of the cell and down the hall. He was mentally preparing himself for whatever his next session with the Cons would bring. He had to stay sharp and ahead of the Cons and their plans. Both he and Jazz were getting out of here alive, and he would use every trick in his book to ensure their best odds of survival. After all, he was a tactician, and tactics were always a mix of logic and luck, making Prowl a natural when it came to tricks. And their lives depended on his upcoming performance. With that thought he stared resolutely down the hall.