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Starscream’s first new thread out of recharge was that he was there. Again.
Even when he wasn't visible, the mech had a presence that was impossible to deny- the slightest feeling of touch in the part of his helm closest to him, like an invisible servo was just barely pressing there. He'd tested the correlation as empirically as was possible under the circumstances, and was correct approximately 97.17% of the time. His privately-recorded data also indicated that nobot else was able to sense the mech in any way.
Which, while it explained why the mech was watching him recharge, did not make it more tolerable. This was the only part of his day that he got to himself, and now it was ruined.
"Must you watch me every klick of every day?" Starscream demanded to the air, refusing to remove his servo from his optics. It was far too early for processing optical input. "Am I always to be so untrustworthy that I cannot be unsupervised even for a moment?" If he were to be entirely honest, which he generally preferred not to be, he didn’t believe the accusation himself, but he poured as much venomous irritation into it as he could inflict. If it hurt the mech’s feelings enough to get Starscream some peace, it would be more than worth the effort.
Bumblebee huffed out a soft vent, evidently unperturbed. That was the trouble with mecha who insisted on hanging around him. No matter how much he ramped up his displays of annoyance, those who stuck around inevitably became immune to him. He would be as obnoxious as possible from the start if that wasn’t a surefire recipe for never being able to exist in society. Unfortunately, society was necessary for important things, such as peer review and proper adulation of his feats. "Every day, huh? I thought that Earth was nothing but a 'nasty ball of mud covered in nastier creatures.'"
Absently, Starscream's flier's sensors noted that the air in the room was not disturbed by the venting or vocalizations. Nothing Bumblebee ever did registered on them anymore. It was an established pattern by now, hardly worth logging. He dumped the data. There were far more pertinent matters to keep in his processor. "It is," Starscream muttered, servo clenching and unclenching in the meshes of his bed- berth. "And you will never convince me otherwise. The fact that it has infested my vocabulary is not a point in its favor." Only in the privacy of his own helm would he begrudgingly admit that some of their words in regards to biology were useful, and that was only a product of how much more urgently they needed them. Or, so he surmised. He was no linguist, ethnographer, or anthropologist. Frankly, his interest in those fields extended only to the point of how they could be used to further his own.
"Only because you won't let yourself be convinced," Bumblebee retorted. Starscream could feel the cane being pointed at him for emphasis. He refused to give the mech the satisfaction of acknowledging it. He’d learned better than to reward bad behavior. "For a scientist, you sure are great at ignoring evidence."
Starscream’s irritation and plating flared at the accusation, and he twisted around to glare at the mech. There was an embarrassing moment where he had to uncatch some of his meshes from his plating, but he smoothed it over gracefully. As expected, he was lounging in one of Starscream’s favorite chairs, and that damnable cane was pointed directly at him, arm unwavering. "Just like a laymech, to use the word 'evidence' and have no idea what it means,” He spat. “Evidence requires an objective state to observe and measure. The opinion of a mech is not an objective state."
"But whether a mech holds an opinion is a different matter," Bumblebee pointed out, gesturing with his free hand and lowering the cane. "It can be proven that a mech holds one opinion or another, objectively, through observation. If it can be observed, it can be factual." He tapped his cane against the ground for emphasis.
Starscream side-opticked Bumblebee, tilting his helm haughtily. "So, then, your position is not that I need to be convinced to like Earth, but that I already do and just refuse to admit it? And people think my processor is shaken." He shook his helm theatrically, an impressive thing to be able to do without getting up.
As usual, his talents went unacknowledged.
Bumblebee shrugged, letting his free servo fall to the couch. Another data point. "It's the conclusion that matches the evidence. Aren't you always going on about how many mechs ignore the conclusion right in front of them just because they don't like it?”
Starscream let out a low, grinding sound of disgust, and heaved himself up and out of his berth. He really needed a trip to the washracks before his first meeting. It wouldn’t do to show up in streaked wax and the film of undefined dust that living in a city full of construction constantly left him with after recharge. Perhaps he could requisition an air filter. He filed that task for later. "You have until I'm prepared for the orn," He emphasized the proper word. "To attempt to present your so-called evidence." He stalked off to the washracks, slamming the entrance behind him.
He had a short reprieve while he wrangled the damnable machine into getting the right temperature and pressure to clear off the dust and damaged wax. However, as soon as things were how he liked them, the mech was back. Bumblebee's voice behind him formed a backdrop to his wash, the clear timbre managing to sluice through the sound of the pressurised cleanser. "We both know that I caught you staring at sunsets and sunrises," The mech began.
Starscream cut him off, scowling at the spot he was buffing out with a polishing mesh. "That was appreciation of a star, a decent celestial body to enjoy. If that is the quality of your evidence, then I doubt that your argument has any legitimate basis."
"The appearance of sunsets and sunrises on Earth depend on the atmosphere it has," Bumblebee countered stubbornly. Starscream squinted at a slightly dented seam, and decided he would be booking an appointment with a detailer soon. "You wouldn't be able to appreciate the star in the same way without the atmosphere of the planet."
A weak point, but better than he had initially thought that the mech would muster. "I appreciate plenty of stars," He retorted absently, filing the note about the appointment for later.
"You don't stare at them nearly as often as you did those sunsets and sunrises," Bumblebee countered.
Damn him to the Pit, Starscream had to admit that he’d left himself wide open for a frequency argument. "Oh, what a grand recommendation of the planet,” He snarled, scrubbing harder to speed up the wash. “That there's nothing else there more interesting than how the local star appears. How far around do you think that the tourists will come from for such a high recommendation?" Viciously, he switched to the dryer, and cycled it, luxuriating in the roar and rush of the air that overwhelmed most non-flyers. Nobody could speak above that machine. However, he did eventually have to turn it off.
Bumblebee studied him as he began applying his wax for the day. Of the highest quality, there was no reason to settle for anything inferior when something superior was available. Quietly, the mech drew his trump card. "Those stars were visible from Earth too. But the specific one that Earth made more beautiful got a lot more of your attention,” He paused. “Which means that when accounting for other factors, the thing that determined which star you chose to admire was how Earth affected it.”
Starscream's servoes stilled.
Bumblebee waited.
"One data point—" His tone was utterly flat. "—does not a conclusion prove." He refused to speak any further as he finished applying his wax and stalked out the door.
"But," Bumblebee murmured into the silence. "A foot in the door gets it open eventually."