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"No, no, you're missing something." Starscream walked a circle around Megatron, freshly washed, waxed and polished to a ridiculous shine.
The warlord watched him with annoyance. "I already look like one of those senate fools, Starscream. What could I possibly be missing?"
"Ah!" Starscream snapped his fingers rather than reply, and walked briskly to his closet. (Honestly, what mechanism on Cybertron needed a closet, they hardly needed clothing or similar frippary.) A moment later, he returned, arms laden with cloth. "Hold still."
"Wha--?" Megatron's question was cut off abruptly as the cloth was dropped around his shoulders, falling to drape around him like a... "A cloak?"
"Made of the finest mecharachnid steelsilk. Try not to ruin it."
"I am not wearing a cloak to my meeting with Optimus."
"Optimus is hardly the only one attending these peace talks. You need to impress them, at least a little. And look less like the barbarian we both know you really are."
Megatron's fists clenched in irritation, but he had to admit--only to himself--that Starscream was right. "Very well. But did it have to be blue?"
"I didn't have time for a custom color. I'm sure the Prime will think it's flattering."
Megatron hadn't been considering Optimus' reaction to the cloak, but he was now thanks to his obnoxious Air Commander. And he wasn't sure if he wanted to find out what the Prime thought of him wearing a garment the color of his optics.
"Now, get going! You don't want to be late, it will put you on a bad thruster at the bargaining table!"