It's Happy Hour at Swerve's, when most people show up for cheap drinks, and Swerve shows up for the gossip. Cyclonus has been sitting at the bar for a while, keeping Swerve company, and just as he's about to reveal some juicy secret Swerve had put entirely too much effort into unearthing, the sound of a jet engine drowns him out. He turns to see who caused the disturbance: enter Misfire, heel thrusters still hot and running at full speed down the aisle, leaping behind the counter, startling everyone seated there aside from the hard-to-shake Cyclonus.

"Swerve!" Misfire beams and embraces him with the same gratitude as if he's just rescued him from death row, swooping the bartender into his arms and twirling in circles. He comes to a halt. "I'm in serious danger."

"Pretend or real?" Swerve asks, concerned and confused.

"Hard to say. We're playing hide and seek and Nickel nearly caught me. I had to change hiding places, that's how serious this is." Misfire sets Swerve down and squats to stare him in the visor. "I haven't won a single game since we hopped to this new universe, and that’s saying a lot, cause it’s all we’ve been playing, cause Krok said it would be a good way to get acquainted with this beast of a ship. The cosmic balance is at stake here, Swerve! You've gotta hide me."

"I'm a little too busy to be dragged into a game right now…" Swerve rubs the back of his head-encasing kibble with one hand and means to motion to the sea of patrons with the other, but thanks to his height it looks more like he's highlighting the drinks behind the counter.

"Which is exactly why she'd never look for me in here!"

"Yeah, I don't know about that... And don’t you think that the sound of someone flying down the halls would tip her off…?"

"That could’ve been anyone."

Cyclonus speaks on behalf of the rest of the Lost Light’s flyers. "No, only you."

Misfire exhales, annoyed that his literal flight response might cost him the victory he so desperately wanted, the realization that staying put would’ve been a safer strategy finally catching up to him. He speaks frantically, as if he could sense Nickel storming down the hallway outside, hunting him down. "Look, Swerve. You and Cyc have been obviously been chatting and you can handle that distraction, even with all this business. But I’m supposed to be hiding! It’ll be like I’ve taken a vow of silence. I promise I won’t bother you as long as you’ve got a good place to stash me."

Between Misfire's endearing delivery and the patron Swerve spots in the distance who had started making their way back to the counter and would soon be asking for a refill, Swerve can't fight it anymore. "Okay, now that you mention it, I do have a cellar..." He gestures downwards. "And since living on this ship can be so… fatal, it’s also a makeshift panic room complete with a little movie watching set-up, so hopefully you won't get bored."

Misfire's eyes light up as Swerve points to the door they’ve been on top of the entire time. "Oh, perfect! I knew you’d make a great co-conspirator."

Misfire cuts Swerve off so as to not give himself the chance to send them both spiraling into a never-ending conversation by pulling him in to a kiss. Every picosecond is precious time that could be better spent locked safely away from Nickel, so he keeps short and to the point. Swerve, on the other hand, knows he probably won't be seeing Misfire again for a while and pulls him in for a few seconds more, which almost makes Misfire forget about the supposed urgency of his situation.

"You seem good at that." Cyclonus interrupts, his tone so straightforward and mundane you'd think Misfire was wiping down the counter.

Misfire snorts, amused knowing that he would never hear such a remark come from Cyclonus’ mouth anywhere but the bar. "Thank you! I got loads of practice when I had to siphon energon to get by." He tries to illustrate the components of a siphon with his hands, but his gestures probably don't make sense to anyone but himself. "I broke the vacuum thing and had to improvise… it was so gross." He shakes his head as he pries the door open and drops himself into the cellar (completely bypassing the ever-so-convenient ladder). The room swells with light as the motion detector senses his presence and returns to its unassuming appearance when he shuts the door. Swerve turns back to Cyclonus.

"That's a look." Swerve points an accusatory finger at Cyclonus’ contented smirk. "What's with that look?"

"You used to not like being touched."

"I used to not like Decepticons, either."

"And now you're letting them loose in your stockroom without any thought as to how much of your supply they're going to down." Cyclonus’ smirk grows to a full smile and he throws back the last of his drink, then sets it down and assumes a much more somber expression. "I'm glad you found someone."

"Likewise." Swerve reaches underneath the counter and pops open a bottle for the patron he spotted before, he pours and when they signal 'when' he moves to dump the remainder into Cyclonus' newly empty cup. "Now, that thing about Whirl..."