Mystery Seeker

     Blackbox found her loitering in a hallway near the fringes of the ship. Perhaps loitering wasn’t exactly the right word; it implied some level of relaxation. Lookout was, as she was any time he saw her, on edge. Her arms were crossed and her wings were tense. The red of her downturned visor cut through the dim lighting in a way that gave off the impression she was glaring. 

     “I hope I’m not bothering you--”

     “You are.” She cut him off.

     His mouth clamped shut, and he stood frozen for a few seconds, having been taken off-guard. He didn’t expect to get shut down so quickly… They lingered like that, she seemingly unmoved by the sudden tension that had filled the air, and he unsure how to proceed. 

     “Well?” She finally snapped. He startled. “Spit it out.”

     “O-oh, okay. Um,” Blackbox frowned, “well this might be presumptuous, but I was wondering if-- well okay, so I used to know this decepticon,” he started, unable to keep the hints of a fond smile from gracing his face. “We’re friends, actually, we used to always meet at a certain place. But, uh, suddenly he stopped showing up… um, and it’s just that you and him are sameframes.”

     It was hard to miss the way Lookout tensed even more. He reconsidered his resolve. Prodding an angry Decepticon usually wasn’t good for one’s health.

     “You even have similar paint,” he continued nervously. “Anyway, I guess I was just wondering if, you know, there’s a chance you know him. If you know where he went.”

      There was another long and drawn-out silence. Mentally, Blackbox prepared for the possibility that he was going to be attacked. He didn’t know Lookout that well, but he knew enough to know she had a hair-trigger temper. He wouldn’t regret trying, though, even if he had to pay with a visit to the medic’s. He had to know. He had to see him again. 

     “...What was his name?” She ground out.

     He jumped. “Oh, it was,” he said, “Warrant--”

     She shoved off the wall and left. 

     Blackbox stood there, listening to her brisk footsteps fade into nothing, and tried to fight down the coil of dread that was trying to push up into his chassis. Part of him wanted to suddenly run off and find that Autobot that had the same paint, too. Even though it was completely insane, he wanted to ask. Or have someone else ask. Whichever. He just wanted to know.

     A reaction like that never meant anything good.