There's a box on Prowl's desk, with an open lid because wouldn't want him to have to follow protocol about mystery packages and call in the bomb squad. Inside is a layer of polyfiber quilt batting making a deep, soft cushion to hold a wire nest and a small orange egg, sporting speckles of cobalt blue. There's a note in Bluestreak's hasty handwriting, rambling off down the edges of the page, forgotten words squeezed in, but the gist of it reads: thought you might like a work buddy
Mystery packages were always a bit...problematic, so Prowl was truly appreciated the fact that the lid was open; random closed containers appearing seemingly out of nowhere not only resulted in way too much additional work, but also unsettled Red Alert greatly. No one wanted that.Â
Prowlâs attention then moved to the boxâs contents, doorwings rising ever so slightly in surprise. An egg, especially one so brightly coloured certainly wasnât something he expected to find on his desk.
Blue optics quickly skimmed through the note, corners of the Praxianâs lips twitching upwards in a soft, delicate smile as soon as he noticed who wrote it - and who left the unusual gift in his office. Â
:: Bluestreak.:: A pause as he belatedly realised that he should have probably started with an actual greeting. ::Is that...a lilleth egg?:: It looked like one, though the tactician wasnât exactly an expert when it came to things like this.
