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Orion couldn't believe he was doing that. Taking deep inspirations through his vents to cool his frame, he tried not to fidget in place or play with the hem of the 'work uniform' he had been asked to put on. Normally, he would never have set a foot in this place, but desperate times made for desperate situations.
For a moment, he considered leaving. Going back to the vestiary, take off the clothes on his back and just walk out.
But you need the money, he reminded himself. You and Dion both need it. With his current injuries, Dion was currently unable to work and the medical bill was still not paid in full, and there was still rent and daily fuel to consider. They had talked it out together, the three of them, and agreed on potential solutions. Dion needed his rest, no question, even if he protested he could do light duty shifts already. Ariel had decided to accept delivery contracts out of town, up to the other end of Cybertron in some case, to get a better salary. And Orion... well, Orion had started to look for a secondary evening job to complement his dayshifts at the docks.
Cue his current situation.
"Ready to dance, Orion?" the chatty black and white mech next to him asked with a grin.
"I..." the red and blue mech hesitated. "I'm not sure I can do it, Jazz," he finally confided. "I mean, I'm not that good a dancer..."
"Mech," Jazz replied soothingly, "half the people who come here aren't either, don't you worry. They only want to unwind, have fun and chat up with pretty mechs, yeah?"
Orion just hugged his shoulders, feeling uncomfortable. He shouldn't, he knew that. Nothing they were doing there was illegal. People just paid to... dance with them. They bought tickets at the entry, they picked a partner for a dance in exchange of one of the aforementioned tickets, they danced and chatted and went their way, and the dancer would receive a commission for each dance ticket they received. Simple and clean.
But Orion couldn't shake off the nagging feeling it was somewhat wrong. Dion had always told him he was too shy; perhaps he was right...
"'s going to be alright, mech," Jazz murmured besides him, putting a hand on his shoulder in a show of solidarity. "No need to be so nervous; the patrons can be loud, but they don't bite -- and if anyone tries to do something you're not comfortable with, you just wave and security will throw them out on their afts, got it?"
Orion tried to smile, but it was a pale thing. Still, he looked at the other mech with as much gratefulness as he could, because Jazz meant well and was looking up for him. All the other dancers did, really. But that didn’t help the docker to feel any less awkward. He was just… He wasn’t the tallest dancer present, but he didn’t think he had an iota of the natural grace and beauty the others showed, and if he got any client, Orion would probably be very lucky.
Too late to regret it now, though. The doors were already open and the first few clients were slipping in, by two or three, obviously friends who had decided a dance or two would make for fine entertainment for the evening. Orion shuffled uneasily while Jazz propped himself against the bar, tapping a finger on the counter with a bored look.
At least, until a commotion started in the entryway, making several dancers and patrons look that way with curiosity and alarm. Orion tensed, wondering if perhaps there was a drunk mech trying to force his way inside already but… No, the sounds that were filtering through were not angry shouts, just rowdy cheers and jibes.
Jazz straightened immediately, dropping his bored façade.
"Oh, great," Jazz muttered. "Them."
"Who, 'them'?" Orion asked cautiously, eyeing entering the newcomers warily. There were an eclectic bunch, that was for sure. Many had hard laborers frames -- construction engines and miners, recognizable to their paintjobs or their kibbles -- but there were also a couple of graceful Seekers, several non-mobile altmode, and even a Cassettes Holder! Orion had never seen a live one before. Curiously, all of them wore the same purple badge somewhere on their frame. It looked vaguely familiar, though the red and blue mech couldn't pinpoint why.
"Decepticons," Jazz mumbled. Oh. Oh! That was why the symbol looked familiar; Dion had talked about them before. "Part of that movement news are very much trying to say doesn't exist. Can't say I'm too hot about what they're preaching, but," he shrugged, "they're good clients."
"Dangerous?" Orion mumbled back, optics warily following the mechs as they spread around the room, calling out waiters and dancers alike with friendly smile and waves and jokes.
"Not to us," Jazz whispered with finality, "and if any of them gets handsy, their boss will kick their afts himself," he hushed as a red Seeker zoomed on him and came their way at a brisk pace. "Okay, time for the show," the other mech finished before plastering a big grin on his face, and Orion wasn't sure if it was real or not. "Starscream, darling! It's been ages," he cooed at the Seeker. "I was starting to think you had forgotten me!"
"As if anyone could ever forget such a vision of loveliness, Jazz," Starscream replied with a high-pitched laugh, throwing a smug look over his shoulder. A few steps behind him, the Cassette Holder was glaring daggers. "How about you hang around with me for a bit? Or even all evening?" he continued, brandishing a thick roll of tickets. The Cassette Holder tightened his fists before stalking away, clearly unnerved, making Orion wonder what it was all about. Was Jazz's company and dancing skills that prized? Or was he missing something?
Jazz’s grin widened a fraction. “Eh, so long you can keep up, my mech, I see no problem with that.” He tugged playfully at the Seeker’s wing, dragging him away from Orion and toward the dancefloor with what Orion suspected was practiced ease, hips swaying already to the tempo of faint music notes. It felt… lewd, and Orion blushed.
“Excuse me? Are you free for a dance, lovely mech?”
Orion’s engine jumpstarted with an embarrassing noise; so caught up with the way Jazz was moving away, he hadn’t paid attention to the potential client who had come his way. “Oh, I’m sorry, I…” he trailed off as he looked up at the mech who had talked to him.
Red optics watching him with amusement. “Do not worry; Jazz tends to captivate everyone in this room.” He took Orion’s hand in his and bowed, gently pressing his lips to the smaller mech’s knuckle. “Gentlemech,” he smiled and something in Orion’s Spark melted.
“S… Sir!” he squeaked, feeling faint. He turned away, desperately searching for Jazz’s frame among the dancers already on the dancefloor, starting what looked like a Polyhexian Tango, but he couldn’t make him out. “He… Jazz does that,” he said weakly, feeling stupid even as he spoke, but the other mech didn’t seem annoyed.
“Oh, I think he has some serious concurrence now.” The big mech tilted his head to the side, considering. “I don’t think I ever saw you there before; new to the job?"
Orion nodded hesitantly. “It’s my first day,” he admitted, because what was the harm in saying so?
The big mech’s smile widened. “How interesting! May I ask you for your first dance, then…?”
“Oh, uh, I’m Orion,” Orion replied, “and of course you can!” he added hastily before faltering. “But, uh, I prefer to warn you, I’m… not a really good dancer.” Stupid, stupid! He would reconsider now, Orion just knew it.
“It’s alright, I’m not a particularly good one either,” the other mech waved the argument away. “We’ll just try to learn and make progresses together, won’t we?”
“… I suppose we will,” Orion said after a moment, cheeks flushed. The mech was watching him with such intense optics, it was disconcerting (and perhaps just a little bit flattering). “I don’t think I caught your name?”
“Because I haven’t told you yet,” the grey mech chuckled. “I’m Megatron, and I’m looking forward our dance…”
End