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“You know this isn’t quite what I had in mind when I said: Hey, Perceptor, let’s go be social tonight.” Drift mumbled. His voice was distorted as he did not lift his chin from his hand as he spoke. He was bent over the table, in the furthest darkest corner of Swerve’s makeshift bar. Perceptor sat next to him—sizing up the drink he’d been given curiously—but other than that he managed to feel completely antisocial among the majority of the crew.
“Well then maybe next time you should be more specific, hmm? Besides, this is plenty enough social interaction.”
“How do you figure?” Drift tilted his head.
Perceptor looked up. He took a second to scan the patrons.
“Well from here you can make all kinds of social observations.”
Drift groaned and dropped his head onto the table, faceplate first.
“For example, Tailgate and Cylconus have been intimate recently.”
“What?!” Drift’s head shot up. He quickly scanned the room until his optics fell on the duo in question. He narrowed his optic scope.
“How the slag can you tell that?”
Perceptor leaned in towards Drift, as if anyone were close enough to pick up on their conversation.
“Look at their posture. Usually Cyclonus’ spinal strut is absolutely straight, tense, tight. He’s slouching just slightly, just enough to put a little extra weight on his hips.”
“He’s… he’s relaxed? He’s relaxed enough to be considered just a hard-aft and not a super-ultra-mega hard-aft and you think that means they’ve interfaced?”
Perceptor chuckled. He reached out and patted the side of Drift’s face. The mostly white mech gave his partner an odd look.
“Tailgate is doing the exact opposite, my darling.” He explained softly, going back to his drink.
Drift’s optics flickered. He looked at Perceptor then back to Tailgate and Cyclonus. He opened his mouth. He closed it. He leaned towards Perceptor and nodded towards Atomizer and Pipes.
“Ok, what about that? They’re sitting way too close. Gotta be interfacing.”
“You could not /be/ more wrong.”
“You’re kidding.”
Perceptor looked up and met Drift’s optics.
“Do I kid?” He pointed to the bow-mech. “They are trying far too hard. All the physical contact they are making is quite pointed. A hand there, a lean here, it’s all forced and meant to be noticed. One, or both, of them are trying to make someone else jealous.”
Drift clicked his glossa on the backs of his dental plates.
“There.” He pointed to Rung and Red Alert. Perceptor shook his head.
“Never. Come close, but it’s mostly one-sided. You can tell by the pointed non-contact being made and the effort to hide that fact.”
Drift lifted his optic ridges and pointed again, paying more attention to his partner than the mechs he had pointed out.
“They tried something /different/ very recently. Chromedome looks a little timid and sheepish while Rewind is more animated than usual. See how he keeps nudging Blaster? He’s bragging and Chromedome isn’t so sure he wants to be in on it.”
Drift snickered. He prepared to point again when his vision was interrupted by yellow. He lifted his head and met optics with Sunstreaker.
“Uh, Drift, what… what exactly are you two doing over in the gloomy corner?” The lambo purred, Bob at his side chittering.
“Being social.” Drift snickered.