It’s exactly as he expected. The space feels like Smokescreen, eclectic and disorderly, but somehow inviting. It feels lived in, unlike most of his cold warship.
“If you like. Nothing too sweet for me. We have something to discuss.”
Smokescreen’s pausing, not having expected a discussion topic. He’s picking up the pace a bit, just grabbing the mid-grade and a couple of sweets- for himself, if Megatron really doesn’t want any.
“We do? What’s up, Megs?”
Megatron sits on the couch while Smokescreen busies himself, activating his datapad and placing it on the table.
“The coordinates we found. I’ve uncovered something about them that you need to see.”
Megatron's back up 