Do it in style

:I usually leave them alone. I take the buyers though. Can’t sell things if no one will buy:

//They’ll just go off world. Look at Swindle. I don’t think he’s been back to Cybertron since the war ended.//

:I call that fresh meat:

//No nobody would miss ‘em.//

//But I do ask that you be careful. From one friend to another.//

:: I wouldn’t place all the blame on your part, I’m not exactly skilled in the art of seduction nor am I skilled in flirting. ::

:If you can’t even go into a town, why bother?:

“What would I even need credits for?”

:: Is that what you were trying to do? ::

    »Don’t be stupid, Jazz. Why would I have to harass Doubletake to do what is necessary when he already does that? If the Decepticons taught him anything it was that to complete his assignments, he must leave morals at the door. You would do well to follow his example.«

    »If that ‘something’ is not your assignments or reports, I suggest you abandon ship. Do you want to lose your job, by chance? And that what this is about? Some rebellion that is only you?«

    »You always seem to get these little ideas when your traitor is around or that… abomanation. I suggest you remember your place; you have this job because you were among the old Prime’s friends and the council respected that. You’ve been burning bridges and losing their favor.«

//That sounds awfully threatening, Torrent. You wouldn’t be honestly threatening your superior, would you? That sounds dreadfully underhanded and very, very illegal. I really, really don’t want to have to pull rank on you for such things, or even slander against myself, Prowl, and ‘Cade.//

//I don’t think I’m the only one burning bridges or losing the council’s favor.//

//What sorts of things?//

“Support I’m good on”

“Hunter was driving me nuts so I took him here to play,” answered Prowl.  There was a pause as some sparklings ran screaming by him, none of them Hunter.  “A better question for someone who doesn’t have sparklings, why are you here?”  He glanced to the data pads on the bench, “I can’t imagine a park with screaming sparklings can be any fun to work around.”

He kept his door sensors tracked onto Hunter, the black and green sparkling sitting over at the puddy box, building something, Prowl wasn’t certain what since his sensors couldn’t pick up what object was.  But Hunter was playing, he’d probably move onto something else later.

He wasn’t sure that Jazz being here meant anything good.  He liked seeing his friend after so long on radio silence, after so long of Hunter being sick and the stress of him coming early and Prowl not being able to keep a job for various reasons.   After feeling like no one had his back, nowhere was Jazz.  Someone he could trust.  Suddenly the answer to why he was in the park didn’t matter,  “It is so good to see you.  You have no idea.”

He tried to work his vocoder towards an answer but it seemed lost in the muddied paranoia that someone was watching, perhaps this wasn’t even Prowl -- what were the chances that, at this very moment, Prowl was here? Everything felt heavy, even the gentle glow of his spark hidden beneath armor and a complex chamber. 

That panic, the paranoia, only vanished when his excessive scanning had come across something they wouldn’t have copied or been able to reproduce, even Torrent had some standards. A small sparkling -- the perfect cross between the spy’s dearest friend and a bounty hunter that stole said friend’s spark. 

“.... Torrent doesn’t like sparklings, they’re too loud for his sensors,” he blurted out as his gaze turned to Prowl, optics and visor dimmed. “It’s good to see you too.”

His vocoder made him sound... breathless if one of their kind could be. His frame had soon rejoined the former officer on the bench and his doorwings outstretched as if seeking the comfort of an ally. Perhaps he was.

“You look good.” The words felt awkward, foreign. “Bet you’ve been busy -- little ones always keep their creators busy, figure one that’s a cross of you an’ Locky is worse yet.”

He knew the joke fell flat. 

“How... how are you?” 

Fingers curled around his datapad, gaze shifted to do another sweep of the area. 

“No…I don’t know what I need…I don’t think I need the gifts”