#bestfirst

Red Alert is visiting. Ostensibly to celebrate Rung’s continued success at sustaining newsparks, but likely also to try and case the Temple and bolster security.

Red Alert, therefore, needs securing.

Optimus stares down at the red and white mech, fins lifted and alert despite the faint sheen to his optics. He’s processing something. Probably.

Rung's continuous success with each newspark was worth celebrating, of course, but equally important to him was his continued functioning; concerned that one day he might learn of his dear friend's passing due to a stray shard, or perhaps lack of proper nutrients, or—No. No, Red Alert knew Rung would be alright; knew that neither Optimus nor Megatron would allow any harm to come to the little ornament, that he was well cared for, and that he was quite possibly in the safest location he could possibly be in.

Still, he worried, and found himself visiting frequently enough that he anticipated an intervention, given how he fidgeted about the temple, inspecting each blind spot he encountered before incorporating his own equipment. He couldn't always be here, but with his connections, he could send out a possible signal, some warning—Oh. He'd be found.

"…Optimus." He greeted curtly with a nod of his helm, regarding his former leader with familiarity, though his gaze was firmly locked elsewhere—like a Praxian Tracker who knew they had been caught in the act. "I was…" A pause, idly toying with the exposed wires; wires that very clearly led to the exposed camera he had just about finished installing, shoulders drooping in defeat.

He’s not running! …But he did climb up onto the furniture.

Optimus stoops a little, finials tipping back as he peers into D-16’s face. “Sorry I almost knocked you over.”

Dee stares up - and up, and UP - and tries very hard not to say or do anything more stupid or embarrassing than almost running directly into some guy’s legs. The stranger’s electromagnetic field makes him feel even smaller in conflicting waves of [safe] and [insignificant] and a prickle of something weirdly familiar.

It’s probably just his own ingrained reaction to red and blue paint confusing him. At least this guy looks like he can take care of himself.

If Optimus sounds oddly cheerful about it— well, things get a little dull without the tin-pot tyrant around.

"Don't sound so pleased to see me, Prime," he says easily, amusement twisting his lips in a wry smirk even as he took a threatening step forward. He doesn't charge the fusion canon yet, but it's only by the virtue of manually dismissing the prompt on his HUD which had asked whether to engage his combat readiness modules.

“What do I not know, First Aid?”