[ti]Ep 3[/ti]Why so serious? (Nokta, closed for now)

[Starkrieger]

A construct? Really?! Starkrieger looked him over once more. So much for his developing conclusion about the other’s ‘unusual state’. Now he was left with an additional mystery, equally as intriguing, but even less appropriate to be asked… at least from a mech like him. Few Decepticons welcomed questions about their intended function from a model many still viewed as ‘privileged’.

“We’re all Primus made…” 

The malleable metals around his optics squinted subtly as a corner of his derma twitched, straightening the almost ‘default’ smirk. A soft ‘hmm’ of contemplation issuing, bridging the gap of the brief silence

“I suppose my good looks und charm did have to come from somewhere.” The smirk returned, the emphasis on ‘some’ his only verbal indication he was taking a light jab at ‘well documented’ Seeker egotism and self importance…

If Nokta had found it in him to trust that they were equal to true Cybertronians, who was he to take that peace from him?

The officer brought the conversation to something more ‘typical’ of a bygone era, when asking about one's city state was mundane.  Not that Krieg minded, his helm dipped absently as he responded.

“Naturally”, it was a token answer, for all that a part of his processor did recognize the potential to go into dangerous territory from there, though not in the way that it did. As Nokta’s gaze diverted, Starkreiger ws alert, noting the change in demeanor, connecting it to the way the mech’s previous words had trailed off. He had no way of knowing what darkened the other’s mood, briefly. What followed did little to narrow the possibilities, but they did have an effect. \

He hadn’t considered the grounder’s phantom field might make him more sensitive to others, rather than numb. It wouldn’t occur to him to control his response. Perhaps, by conscience, the distance between them would spare Nokta from being subjected to his EM focusing, as pitch and frequencies of his field sharply leveled, flatlining into a sluggish weight surrounding his spark. 

Regardless, his wings remained aloft, his helm tipping back as if in consideration of the others perspective. An intellectual exercise was a preferable affect

“I have a knack for that.” If by some chance the officer caught a hint of his inner reaction, it would pulled away. The natural result, as Starkrieger disengaged from problematic thoughts and emotions. Dissociation was a dangerous tool in his arsenal, and a shaky at times, but in the moment he could swing it . “ Being ‘lucky’.”

“Apologies for my assumption. I hadn't known many ground models before the war“ 'Any' would have been more accurate, but that was beside the point. While he was being genuine, the deviation from their 'game' was done for a purpose.  A diversion before his attempt to redirect their course. "You, worked in Vos?... That couldn't have been pleasant."  Vos wasn’t exactly known for accommodating ground models.

[Nokta]

There was that infamous seeker self involvement.

"Being ‘lucky.’"

"A knack?" The lieutenant stymied an eyeroll, opting instead for a simple expression of amusement. "That’s why that mountain of yours left you with aches and bruises instead of a rusting carcass, I assume? Luck?" His tone was unavoidably patronizing but it didn’t dip into the sour brand of criticism some others might have offered the seeker’s light boasting in the moment.

"...I hadn’t known many ground models before the war."

Nokta replied with a soft chuckle, his raspy tones reverberating around the dim room as if responding to the humor of some inside joke the seeker was not aware of in his own statement. "You seldom do," he spoke after a second, referring more to seekers on the whole as opposed to just Starkrieger. Nokta didn’t seem at all bothered by Starkrieger’s assumption, he’d lived a long life enduring others ‘assumptions,’ most of which were far more unkind than the seeker’s simple error.

And then came a more glaring blunder in the seeker’s question as to whether or not the lieutenant had once worked in Vos. Nokta practically blanched, his ashen face turning a shade lighter in his own surprise– and then he laughed aloud. Not just a chuckle, or a passing scoff of amusement, a spare few seconds of full blown laughter from the wraith. He actually laughed. Granted, his raspy voice made it sound like a tin chainsaw echoing down a long metal hallway, but it was laughter all the same.

Wiping a bead of coolant from the corner of his optic, he finally spoke. "By the Allspark, no, I couldn’t imagine one of my model living there much less working there. I could count on one servo how many times I visited Vos for personal reasons– and that was about all I had the stamina for." One last lightsparked laugh before the mech toned it down with a soft hum of contemplation, staring out the door of the firing range as if staring out into a vista of Vos itself.

"But… it was a good and proud city. As many were." He trailed off again, optics drooping lower until the look of contented mirth on his face slowly became lost to his selfsame, patented look of silent grief. 

[Starkrieger]

Wings stiffened, a stillness settling over the Seeker at the first words the lieutenant offered. Wary of the officer latching on to them, Starkrieger braced himself, only for the mech to put his mind at ease. He wasn’t privy to the inner thoughts of the grounder, but even if he had a better understanding of his perception; Krieg wouldn’t have dissuaded him. Whatever Nokta might think, so long as delicate matters were left well behind them. On the other hand, his recent dance with The Prime was hardly anything to be prickly about.

Still, he gave the matter its due consideration, an easy twitch of those wings accompanying a subtle glance down at his chassis, as if Seeking those ‘bruises’.

“In this case it was more... an act of mercy. “ His vocals softened, not with the pinch of anxiety to suggest self reflection on a near death experience, nor the downtrodden weight of humility being forced upon him. No, Starskrieger spoke quietly in a nod of respect to the unnamed Autobot. Perhaps an unpopular opinion among Decepticons, but Krieg had been one to show mercy on occasion, when he had the luxury. He also recognized, it was by the Autobot’s strength of character that he hadn’t gone out of his way to do permanent damage, nor had he shot him in the back once the opportunity arose.

Regardless of the implications, the other’s laughter was appreciated in its way. A gentle quirk of his derma was all he would offer in turn, an indication that he didn’t take offense. However, it was interesting that he had been mistaken. Nokta had immediately identified the Vosian dialect. It would be a fair guess, but he hadn’t gotten the sense that the mech had taken a gamble based on his model. No, it seemed more likely that it had something to do with either his function… or the ‘personal reasons’ he referenced. As he was deciding how to broach the subject, Nokta grew reflective, the final sentiment and the change in his faceplate shifting the entire feel of the room.

Gaze slipping away, Krieg’s frame soon followed suit. He didn’t completely cut the other off or leave, merely returning to the seemingly forgotten medical instruments, to select from the marred metal. Focusing on its surface was an excuse to withdraw. As it was slowly shined back into relevance, he caught the reflection of his own optics. Even he could rarely discern their focal point through the masking veil.

“... and shall be again” A solemn tone carried the weight of his conviction. He wasn’t naive enough to be swept up by the idea of restoring their home, or to envision that he would see them victorious. But, In the end, he was military, there was no leave to waiver.

[Nokta]

The seeker seemed to seize up on himself upon hearing the ranking officer’s words. It was almost…familiar? Yet, not just in the same way as one under his command who might have folded under the weight of their superior’s scrutiny might have been. There was something else under the kneejerk bracing for a superior’s lambastment. That fleeting glance down at his chassis as if looking for something out of place in the form of cuts and bruises, it was…

It wasn’t not endearing. But why? And…why was it so familiar…

At any rate, that wasn’t why he was here, was it? At the very least, Nokta was just trying to have fun with the one chance to banter he’d been given in stellar cycles. Though, perhaps he’d been too harsh. He was certainly out of practice, that much was true.

"I’m sure your mountain was well and appreciative of that," Nokta spoke, choosing (for the seeker’s benefit) to assume he’d been speaking about an act of mercy carried out by the seeker as opposed to the other way around. He knew better than to insult a seeker by insinuating their good efforts in battle had been mocked by their opponent’s ‘mercy.’ These were, of course, the words of a mech who found himself in the rare inbetween state of duties, preoccupied with a more personal task as opposed to one directly owed to the cause– and certainly not conversing with one directly under his command.

Were Starkrieger reporting to him in any official manner, any such ‘mercy’ that had actually been doled out by any Decepticon would have resulted in a swift reprimand, and likely with twofold punishment had they been someone under his own command. Choosing not to snuff the spark of your enemy when you were within ample opportunity to do so was an utter travesty. A waste. And certainly inefficient.

But this was not the case. The seeker was not under his command, and smartly, Starkrieger had chosen not to divulge so much information as to his ‘accident’ with Nokta, and so the lieutenant could safely play a different role in the conversation. One that did not require the unwavering sternness of a lieutenant on duty, with the imagined weight of his cause’s image on his shoulders.

It was a noble sentiment, the commitment to restoring their home. If Nokta had a glass of Vosian wine with him he would have raised it in solidarity, toasting to the seeker state and so many other city-states that had been lost.

"Primus willing, they shall." In lieu of a glass to cheers with, Nokta merely raised his shoulders up in a shrug as he mirrored the jet’s earlier smile with a lightly quirked derma of his own, before letting his gaze fall back to the ground near the seeker’s peds.

"I could do with a few less Slaughter City's and Polyhexes though." From the lieutenant’s even tone and the angle of his helm the meaning behind that short statement wouldn’t be made clear right away. It would take him tilting his head up a few seconds later with a wry smile indicating that this had been a joke– or at least an attempt at one.

[Starkrieger]

That Nokta returned the sentiment was… something. It couldn’t quite sooth the restless in his spark. The weight of the past carried a hefty toll, one that far too many took for granted. Starkrieger was young when Vos had finally been dragged into Megatron’s war… but he’d never really been so young. Or, perhaps it was a defect of character to have invested so completely that his short function had been enough to give all of himself to his mentor, to his trine, and to his purpose.

Some Decepticons didn’t see value in Cybertron as it was, limited as they were by functions without calling in the caste system. He could see how it would be difficult to feel an attachment to a world of anguish laboring in the dark, suffocating corners of their homeworld. But, understanding didn't change his experiences...Whatever Kaon, or Slaughter City were to the mecha damned to life there... Vos would always be Vos in his spark. It was less isolating to hear another missed the cities and acknowledge that there was good despite the bad. Nokta had, in a way, granted permission to reminisce.

Permission, however, didn’t mean he would indulge. As he'd let the misunderstanding on the ‘act of mercy’ go unanswered, so too would he leave it exactly as it was. The motivation differed, but the results were the same. Whatever invitation Nokta seemed to extend, he was not ready to issue one in kind.

Of course, banter and joking was another matter. With a chuckle, he shot a smirk the other’s way.

“I wouldn’t wish Tarn gone… but if it were rebuilt on the other side of Cybertron, I wouldn't complain.” He allowed with a playful smugness that might have revealed more than he could realize. To joke about the old rivalry likely marked Krieg as a Seeker who wasn't ' ‘in the know’’ of what precisely had happened between the city states. After all, it wouldn’t have been in Megatron or Starscream’s favor for every flier to be made aware just who was responsible for the loss of their city… and losses still borne by those who remained.

Besides, it was a time honored military tradition, that soldiers should only know what they ‘needed to know’.

"Where were you from?" The question was more direct, as he deviated from the game to simply ask in simple interest in the other mech.

[Nokta]

"Still not far enough that you could not smell its factories on the wind," Nokta jested just as quickly in response to the Starkrieger’s remark. Either he himself was not “in the know,” or he purposely did not call out the seeming discrepancy in the seeker’s words, not wanting to stir up old wounds of his own. Both were equally likely, given what he said next.

"They had me based out of Nova Cronum." The mech answered calmly. While it was a much smaller city state with a main export of not much more than talking head philosophers, anyone who hadn’t heard of the neutral city state before the war would learn of it after making the news in the initial weeks of civil unrest.

Few alive at the beginning of the war would have forgotten the fiery demise of Nova Cronum. The site of a series of horrific and sudden strikes by off-target Autobot artillery, the unprepared city-state's infrastructure was crippled in a matter of hours. The tragedy was followed by a fast landgrab by Autobot and Decepticon forces that made search and rescue virtually impossible in the days after its fall.

"But my work took me many places. I’d seen just about everywhere on Cybertron my alt mode could take me by the end of my adolescence." And for that he was grateful. Nokta had been given, despite his youth at the time, a valuable look at the ways of life in the many varying city-states and areas surrounding them. Different thoughts, different perspectives, different subcultures all within his own planet. As a young and innocent mech, these differences fascinated him. He often found himself overwhelmed by how different customs could be in cities just a handful of borders away from his own.

But it had also given him a sobering look at how despite those differences, the one thing high and low that linked them all together was the caste system. And despite even his own place in the caste being far lower than those typically afforded such an education, he’d been lucky to learn much in his travels in this regard. That no matter how different they were, how unique and varied and valuable they had the potential to be on their own– for as long as the caste system was in place, their function would be what defined them.

Despite hailing from a philosophical haven though, his own outlook on these things became markedly more simple after the war began. What sense of morals he might have begun to grow and thought to understand in his early years had been left behind long ago. He knew there was no place for such thoughts in war. To believe otherwise was to subscribe to a line of thinking that was dangerously close to that of the Autobots. And he would suffer no burden of a fabricated ‘moral high ground’ as he disposed of his sworn enemies, that was for certain. The war, he supposed, had unified them all in a much different way than the caste system had.

No one was defined by their function anymore. It was who they had sworn their souls to that defined them. And that was inescapable.

[Starkrieger]

“Factories? … I always assumed it was the inhabitants”, he returned as quickly, not about to pass up the opening. It would have been shameful not to strike while the iron was hot, after all.

With the joking briefly set aside, Krieg’s wings perked slightly, his cleaning pausing once more, as he focused on Nokta. Nova Cronum had been smaller, less ‘productive’ in the standard sense. That, however, didn’t mean it was beyond relevance, at least Sol hadn’t thought so. Nokta’s willingness to divulge his experiences lead them back down a questionable route, one Krieg had wanted to avoid. For him to contribute further would be to trust that the officer would not overstep. There were truths that one might not want to share, but going out of the way to change a narrative would be a betrayal. After all, there was a difference between saying nothing, and electing to alter a story.

“... We weren't stationed outside of Vos, but I’ve read some work out of Nova Cronum. A lot of over embellished scrap common sense could discredit.“ The conclusion might have sounded insulting, but he used a tone no different than one who was offering an academic critique. The Seeker simply hadn't wasted time dressing it up with polite terms, or to try to disguise his opinion as something more intellectually palatable. “Think mecha like you would have had something more meaningful to contribute than ‘ wise philosophers’ “ Megatron’ speeches weren’t the only thing that his mentor was strict on limiting his exposure to with direct or recorded feeds. It had appeared to be an antiquated view from a mech that hadn’t been all that advanced in age.  Indeed, it was one that he still didn't fully grasp. It wasn't as though Starkrieger had ever been a mech to shut his processor down because he told to.

“Though I suspect our perception would have been much different.“ Likely still were different, as he had yet to find mecha that professed an alignment with his ideals. It didn’t help that in the current state of the Decepticon, so called, army convictions beyond that of mindless rabble were rarely viewed in a favorable light. “Did you have a favorite? … City that is.” Primus, who could have a favorite philosopher? All the ones he’d read seemed to be full of hot exhaust, regardless of what they were trying to say… but then, he’d been a younger mech then.

[Nokta]

Nokta merely smiled at Starkrieger’s joke, and his commentary on his own city-state’s 'elite' and 'philosophical' types thereafter. "The city’s ‘thinkers’ certainly did spout their fair share of overblown nonsense from time to time. I suppose my city was much like Iacon in that sense. Too many caught up in their own vices to see the reality of those suffering beneath their peds."

What followed what many might have considered an insulting comment regarding their home was something much the opposite. Nokta had learned to be wary of compliments from strangers, especially given the rank he held. More often than not those who groveled and dished out such platitudes and other seemingly well-meaning sentiments to a superior were merely trying to get in their good graces without actually doing the work it took others to gain such things.

While Nokta did not suspect as of yet that Starkrieger was this kind of mech, he remained wary, and did not merit the seeker’s compliment in the form of approval or denial, merely acknowledgement.

"It would have been nice to make a difference– a real one," the officer responded quietly. "At least, when I wasn’t forced to deliver self-congratulatory thesis papers halfway across the planet for peer review." The mech spoke in veiled spite of his former occupation, or rather an aspect of it he did not have a choice in.

The seeker posed a question, and Nokta’s mind was drawn elsewhere, to more palatable topics. "I…did enjoy home the most, despite any aforementioned criticisms. Nova Cronum’s undercity had dancehalls to rival Praxus…" The scout trailed off again, lidding his optics with a slow roll of the shoulders as if reinviting the buzz and invigoration of a joyous nightclub dancefloor into his frame for but a moment.

"It’s strange," the mech hummed as he opened his optics once more, his shoulders coming to rest back in place as he leaned back against the counter with a slightly more relaxed stance. "Once something so dear to you is gone somehow all you can think about is the good, even if you hadn’t been able to before. Absence grants a fuller appreciation, I suppose."

You rarely know what you’ve had until you've lost it, after all.

[Starkrieger]

Whatever alarms he may have set off in the officer’s mind, the Seeker remained unconcerned. They had been spoken, and as they stood there was little chance of them being interpreted in a way that would really bother them. What was of greater interest was the answers he had gotten to a question he'd skirted.

The slightest dip of his helm might betray that he was looking Nokta over again, evaluating him in light of new information. A courier of sorts? The lithe frame made sense, maximizing energy efficiency, speed and agility in root, while minimizing the likelihood he would get in the way of ‘important’ mecha. He would have expected ‘friendlier’ colors or something pointedly uninteresting. However, changing color schemes during the war had been prudent for many.

His gaze returned to the instrument he was cleaning, half shuttering as Nokta continued, though the angle of his wings implied that attention was still directed towards him, even as Starkrieger retreated into his own thoughts. He might have asked what kind of dancehalls the officer referred to. ‘Underground’ could be respectable or deviant depending on the location… but while he had never frequented a nightclub, and had only seen the more ‘refined’ version of a dance hall once, Krieg could surmise which he meant by the roll of that shoulder. It indicated a less structured, a 'freer' form … Void had often threatened them with being dragged to such places after they got out of basic.

A part of him wanted to turn things back around, and how easy it would be with teasing about ‘private lessons’ on ‘dance techniques’. However, the officer's reflective tone made the timing inappropriate in a way the soldier was not willing to engage.

“... It is easier to find annoyance in what we take for granted. When we no longer have the luxury, a change in perspective shows us how trivial our complaints were.“ Focusing on the abstract, he shielded himself from personal specifics, his voice taking the distant tones of philosophical consideration.
“Anyway; I’m sure being an officer provides new ‘annoyances’ “ His helm lifted, indicating the return of his optics to the grounder, giving him a smirk, the subtle lift of his chassis adding to the devilish promise. After all, making trouble for officers was a specialty of the lower ranks, combined with cross branch rivalry? No doubt, he could be a nuisance with very little effort.

With a turn of his helm the smirk vanished, his wings stretching to the sides of his frame, before returning along their distal arch, opposite of how one might stretch their arms over their head. His face caught in a grimace as the motion reminded him rather firmly that the joint wasn’t so far from where Backbeat’s blade had chewed him up.

“It’s too bad they don’t have anything like the 'legendary' fusion cannon. Bet it would knock both of us on our afts. “ His pitch and volume elevated subtly a conspiring excitement that he probably couldn’t hold for long. Primus help him though, if he wouldn’t try. They weren't nearly familiar enough to be so openly introspective, and Nokta was proving to be dangerous in Starkrieger’s compromised state.  In direct opposition to suggestions of cooperative mischief, the Seeker seized a rusted crimping tool to point it in Nokta’s direction, pseudo rapier style. “You know, you could offer to help an injured mech? There’s plenty of work to go around.” Fake ‘complaining’ mixed with amusement, as he teased. It was the grounder’s choice in derailing the path they had headed down. Playful or annoyed, either way, he had an excuse to divert from the seriousness of war.

[Nokta]

Standing still there for a moment as the seeker took in his response, he wouldn’t miss the way Starkrieger looked at him, seeming to assess him in his own right. Most times like this Nokta would have held the stranger’s gaze with an unwavering glare or scowl that promised something swift and unpleasant for the viewing party provided how carefully they chose their next words– but in this case he did not. Nokta broke the seeker’s gaze, choosing to look elsewhere, anywhere really. His optics caught sight of the holoscreen panel that had been left turned on atop the counter, and he unfolded his arms from his chest, glancing down at the screen, pretending to swipe at a few things.

Only when Starkrieger finally spoke again did Nokta turn his helm partway to face him, though his optics still seemed to gaze upon the screen below. Upon the seeker’s half observation, half inquiry, the grounder would merely hum in agreement. "The less said about my 'annoyances,' the better." With a long inhale and a final swipe of his digit the screen turned off, and he turned to face Starkrieger again. "Though, I will say I much prefer commanding mecha of similar background to yourself. Those raised into any structure as rigid as a military environment consistently lack the recalcitrant attitudes my subordinates who were once civilians tend to have."

Watching as the seeker appeared to stretch his wings and grimace, he let amusement flower onto his expression. "You handled the railgun with me fairly well, are you sure you’re really injured?" Nokta asked, taking a light air of playfulness to his tone, like a teacher asking a student if they were working when they both knew they hadn’t been. Of course, he had seen by now the various winces and pained expressions Starkrieger had been subduing since his arrival, so he knew the seeker was not lying about his injuries– but he still took the opportunity to jab at the mech in a way that remained respectable for someone of his rank.

Calmly, and with a swift gait, he approached the seeker. Optics flicked downward to examine what had been laid out on the table to be fixed or cleaned or whatever the seeker had been doing before Nokta arrived. "Perhaps we should find a fusion cannon for you to fire, then you’ll really have an excuse to be as out of commission as you seem to imply you are," the officer mused.

[Starkrieger]

Starkrieger wasn’t immune to social cues, quite the contrary, he was typically perceptive. Whether he chose to concern himself with their implications was a different matter. In the case of Nokta’s response to him, the Seeker was thrown by the response. Most ignored him when he engaged in the impulse, some, like his Lord, reminded him that he was being improper. The instincts he had to assess others, as he would potential targets, wasn’t appropriate in a social setting. Aggression, irritation, or other degrees of firmness were something he could expect.

He didn’t understand the reaction he got. Though his next actions played out exactly the same, Krieg cut his assessment short. Regardless of what the officer was actually feeling, he was uncomfortable with imagined implications. Uneasy, the Seeker had a strange sensation of wanting to crawl out of his armor. His optics, similarly, shifted elsewhere, his frame drawing away with a subtle lean. Thankfully, it passed; Nokta called an end to... whatever that was, by reengaging.

"Were civilians?" Raising an optic, he chuckled softly. "You give them too much credit." He teased a little, but didn't elaborate. He didn't expect the officer to take offense, not least of all, because of the mix of fondness and exasperation in his voice. While there were times he wanted to knock some sense into such mecha; he didn't blame them for being what they were. Not everyone had what it took to be military.

When Nokta took a jab, his wings jolted subtly, his attention immediately brought back to the mech. He might have justified his skill with the rail gun, but it was a joke, the reason for his surprise.

“Anything to get out of patrol”, he returned with a similarly playful, but more flippant tone. Lower rank afforded certain privileges, after all. “Besides… our medics put in a lot of effort to pretty me up, I would hate to ruin it.”

The grounder proved to be full of surprises. He’d never expected him to approach. Quite the contrary, he’d anticipated Nokta would be put off by the suggestion he should assist.

The instruments he was working on were medical, various cutting, crimping and clamping tools along with whatever weird ‘torture’ devices the medics liked to use. Krieg wasn’t entirely sure what they did, and didn’t like to think about it. The ones he had yet to touch suffered from their time left behind in the Nemesis. Rust had set in, an obvious and stubborn contaminant. Those that he had attended were neatly set aside, restored, at least so far as a cleaning could get them. It would be up to Knock Out… or more likely Flatline, to assess their condition from there, and properly sterilize. Fastidious though Seekers might be known to be, it would have been a poor medic who entrusted the final task to a mere soldier, one operating outside of the sterile environment of the med bay, armed only with rags and rust remover no less.

“I’d welcome it” The mischief ran deep in him, and the prospect of this challenge was plenty to bring back the smirk. Some of the greatest fun he’d had, was when officers tried to push him beyond his limits… well if they were respectable officers. “Haven’t found a weapon yet that could break me…well not permanently “ Curious to see how far Nokta’s tolerance went, the Seeker picked up a rusted clamp to offer the handle over to the officer.

[Nokta]

Taking the object Starkrieger had proffered, Nokta snorted another mesh deep vent of amusement at the seeker’s comment. The idea of him welcoming potential injury via handling more heavy weaponry in his state was ridiculous to say the least. He certainly wouldn’t be testing Krieg’s hypothesis now, while he was clearly injured. They’d been lucky enough nothing went wrong with the railgun. As for his comment about civilians…Nokta unfortunately found himself agreeing in many cases. But he also knew civilian backgrounds could have their uses more often than not.

"Civilian life was– what’s the phrase…" The lieutenant faltered midsentence, seeming to interrogate some past slang he wasn’t oft to use in his current day-to-day, "–don’t knock it until you’ve tried it."

He seemed satisfied by the term he’d recovered in his mind, as he glanced down to the rusted clamp he’d taken from Starkrieger. It resonated right away that this was some sort of designated medical device, and prompted another interrogation involving his previous comment on their medics.

While it was plausible that Starkrieger was cleaning these tools simply to keep busy, Nokta wouldn’t be surprised if he’d somehow been talked into doing so by a particularly silvertongued doctor. Or guilted into– more likely cussed into doing by his particularly irritable assistant.

It was also the second time the seeker had spoken in regards to his own physical appeal in a short amount of time. While Nokta was no stranger to seekers being particular about their appearance, this seemed like a case above the average.

Nonetheless, he began cleaning the small instrument with a separate rag that looked to have been set aside. "You seem to think pretty highly of yourself in that regard," The lieutenant spoke, his optics seeming more preoccupied with the items in his servos than the mech in front of him, as if capitalizing upon a point.

"A shame one’s value to the war effort is scarcely determined by their aesthetics," this time speaking in a way that denoted that he was merely being facetious as opposed to actually believing what he spoke.

Barracks had been such a melting pot of mecha hailing from all different walks of life. At this point in the war that it was hard to imagine any form of unified beauty standard like there had been before, when every echelon of Cybertronian society seemed to have some idea of what that was. The endless squabbling and debate over what kind of wings were the most appealing, or whether mecha preferred tire treads or frictionless hovercraft had bored Nokta to death before the war. He’d hardly given it any thought since.

"Though it does inspire moderate wonder as to the kinds of useless kibble and fad paintjobs the ranks covet these days?" The question was almost rhetorical, a continuation of his internal musings, but still directed to the only other mech in the room regardless. Starkrieger’s answers had proven to amuse him thus far, why stop when it was giving him a valuable look into the perspective of a subordinate? He hadn’t indulged in something like this in a long while, anyways.

[Starkrieger]

“Oh I have no doubt.” The purr of the Seeker’s vocals played along the range of flattery, as he accepted what he supposed to be fondness for the ‘civilian lifestyle’. However, Starkrieger merely used it as a segue into a more genuine sentiment. “There’s a reason it was worth fighting for… well, the way it's meant to be. But, not every spark is suited for it. "

He believed in a simpler function for civilians, of freedom to create, to dream, to grow and thrive in ways that war and conflict tainted or choked the life out of. He'd had glimpses of that world, in his mentor's training, and moments stolen with Void and Strike. But for him, freedom rang hollow, empty when matched against the calling to preserve and protect it. Even in the endless, lawless war he found himself in, his identity still gave a way to make purpose.

Despite the topic, his attentiveness to the task at hand; Krieg still paid mind to the officer. In close proximity once more, it was possible that Nokta would feel the soft, soothed hum dominating the Seeker's field. If not, a gentle dip of his wings might hint at his contentment. Not that such peace remained undisturbed for long. Picking up a new instrument, his wings pulled back as his optics focused on what was in his servo. He didn’t actually know what it was for, and yet the outward facing hooked surfaced, combined with a ratchet bar hit on instinct. Had he truly recognized the retractor as something used to splay and hold plating apart... well… the less he thought about the things medics did the better.

Chuckling softly, his optics returned to Nokta with an almost relieved smirk. The jesting had certainly been welcome, if not needed.

“Well, I wouldn’t be wrong. But, in this case I was complimenting our medics.“ Taking his rag to the metal of the ‘torture device’ he began working off the rust, his expression softening marginally. “ Particularly our Chief Medical Officer. His attention to detail is second to none. Once he does the finishing work, it'll look like I've had the function of a pampered towerling. “ The easy way he bragged on Knock Out came without reservation, neither ashamed nor concerned to lavish praise on the absent mech. After all, there was no real leverage to find between them. Surely even the dimmest of Decepticons had picked up on the propensity for some military mecha to feel a particular way about medical officers. Regardless, Krieg didn’t care what conclusions others might draw, he liked Knock Out and trusted him implicitly, so he would conduct himself accordingly.

“ I’m afraid I’m the wrong mech to ask about current trends “ His response had started out with amusement, perhaps taking it for granted that he would carry the mood further. Instead, his energy dropped into a cooler, distant reminition. “ … This is the aesthetic I’ve always had”

The one that the mecha that had mattered knew.

“Changing it isn’t an option. “ The finality of his words brushed the vein of ultimatum, but as he refocused on Nokta, his lighter side returned. A brief smile flashing before he continued. “... but if you'd like to update? I’m sure that our CMO could give you some pointers.”

[Nokta]

Nokta remained silent as he continued scrubbing the grime and rust off of the small medical tool he’d picked up, examining it here and there as Starkrieger continued to speak. While he may have appeared more focused now on the item in his hand, it was listening to every word coming out of the seeker’s mouth with relative care.

Had Starkrieger verbalized more of his internal musings on the nature of his duty and “calling” perhaps Nokta would have found the selflessness admirable in some way. Or perhaps he would have just seen it for what it was– a soldier reciting the vows he’d been designed to perform from the beginning. There would be no way of knowing so soon, either way.

After letting the seeker finish, he’d been prepared to ask him another question on the sudden topic of discussion, paired with a politely witty decline of Starkrieger’s suggestion of “updating” his current looks and features– unfortunately this would not be so. Partway through opening his mouth to begin speaking, he’d receive a sudden notification on his HUD that his weapon was ready to be picked up from its repairs with Vega. He faltered, pouting his lip slightly, realizing that it would soon be– if not now be time for him to leave.

He turned to face the seeker, hiking in a vented inhale partway, at a rare loss for words. He couldn’t be…disappointed to be leaving so soon, could he? When did the chance to complete one of his duties ever prompt disappointment?

Optics shifting back to focus on the seeker’s countenance, the lieutenant would force his own into a thin, polite smile. "Well, I do hope you’ll enjoy your little spa day with the good doctor if it will improve your morale in any way."

He leaned forwards, planting the tiny scalpel he’d plucked from the assortment of dirtied tools on the table across from Starkrieger. Its metal surface now gleamed with a slight sheen from the brushing the scout had provided it. Not completely cleansed, not whole yet, but getting there. Provided it received a little assistance along the way.

"I have matters to tend to elsewhere in the Hold for now," the officer spoke curtly, providing the flier with a swift, brief nod before righting himself into a more rigid position. With that, he turned from the mech, making for the exit to the firing range.

He walked a good dozen paces or so, making it to the mouth of the room’s entrance before speaking again. "Seeker–" the mech spoke up, stopping in place without turning around.

"–I don’t believe I asked your name?"

[Starkrieger]

Nokta was a mech of subtlety; as such, it might have been easy to miss indications that he received a signal. However, Starkrieger registered the pause, noted the shift in that interim of those abandoned words. The politeness of that smile certainly suggested that his response wasn't what he'd initially planned. Still, his casual grin remained as genuine as though there had been no interruption. He wasn’t some ridiculous civilian model to forget ‘off duty’ was a technicality. An order, summons, or even ‘polite request’ from a superior was always to be answered. That in Nokta’s case it was an indirect notification (by virtue of him being able to return to his duties ) was neither known, nor did it matter.

“You know Seekers. Easier to manage when we’re looking our best.” Joking or serious, particle or impractical motivations, did it matter which sentiment he intended? Besides, Krieg suspected that he was clever enough to pick up on his propensity to indicate both and neither, playing at truths while appealing to fun little stereotypes at his model’s expense.

As Nokta returned the scalpel, the soldier merely continued attending his current tool, pacing himself so as not to ‘need’ to reach for the next until Nokta had cleared the space. After all, despite his earlier teasing, he had no intention to try to corner the other into an awkward, pre-courting game of ‘incidental proximity'. No, his skills at coordinating with others wouldn’t be used against the lieutenant, at least not this day.

Dipping his helm in answer, he watched the mech go a short distance, setting down the clamp, to evaluate his progress. When the grounder stopped, his wings twitched, reacting to the halt of the steady plod of the other’s footsteps, than anything. Optics returned to his back, as he was addressed, his smirk slowly returning. So, the officer hadn’t missed that he had deliberately skirted social convention, and failed to offer his designation, after one had been given to him. Well, he had asked, so it seemed only fair to oblige.

“Starkrieger, sir” There was no teasing in his tone this time, but there was a certain familiarity. While not as warm as he favored with Starscream, it wasn’t as cold and impersonal as the formality might be.

“Give them hell.” Of course, given that the Seeker was just a soldier? There was a good chance that, eventually, he would be a part of the ‘them’, Nokta would be giving hell, in short order. A minor detail really, his ‘well wishes’ were conveyed no less genuinely. Whatever kind of officer he turned out to be when they were on duty, wasn’t their concern today.