A/N: Written for fembot-prompts's "IDW2; Flamewar and Slipstream; fancy meeting you here".

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Flamewar perks up at the sound of clicking, clacking footfalls coming her way and then splays herself back against the wall, legs stretched out before her so that she's being shown off to the best effect. She feigns deep interest in the tips of her claws, drawing attention to the fresh points she's filed them to. A shadow skirts across the curves of her frame, those footfalls coming to a stop, and she commands herself still and suave.

"Ahem."

She looks up, optics flickering as if in surprise, and sets her plating rippling in a clear show of her pleasure at being addressed.

"Oh, Slipstream!" she chirps. It occurs to her only halfway through that chirping doesn't suit the image she's trying to project just at the moment. She's quick-witted enough to roll it into a pur, underlined by a saucy engine rev. Slipstream's face does something in response and Flamewar decides to take it as a win. "I didn't expect to see you here!"

"In front of my quarters?" Slipstream asks. She doesn't sound precisely charmed, which is not a great sign, but she doesn't sound distinctly as if she isn't charmed either, which is at least a better sign.

"Are these your quarters?" Flamewar asks, turning to look at the door as if she's never seen it and certainly never staked it out. It gives her the opportunity to show off a little more, her shoulder kibble perking up and one hip popped in an open invitation for the nearest restless hand. "Huh! I guess they are!" She slides a sly look over her shoulder, a little tease of a peek around the tire there. She remembers to pur from the get-go when she says, "Funny that we should run into each other here– and now, when neither of us is busy…"

Slipstream shifts closer and, despite her vision being impeded by her own kibble, Flamewar sees one hand come up. It doesn't go for the hip and looks set to miss the kibble but Flamewar is hardly discouraged by the thought of that touch on her back or neck–

It's a moment before she realizes she's being lifted clear off the ground by the collar faring. By then, Slipstream has already set her out of the way as easily as if she weighed nothing at all. It is on decidedly shaky legs that Flamewar stands as she watches Slipstream glide past, all grace and power, without so much as a backwards glance. Those legs give out and she finds herself on the floor when Slipstream pauses at the open door and does glance back after all.

"Shadow Striker and Hyperion are going through inventory," Flamewar somehow hears Slipstream say despite the roaring feedback that seems to have overtaken her audial suite. "You can go and help them since you have so much free time."

The door slides shut behind her with no further fanfare. There is a buzzing silence in the hall– or so Flamewar assumes despite the feedback. Then she sighs long and high, delight licking hot laps inside her spark chamber and making her engine gun. Her plating pulls tight and her kibble quivers close as she tries to hold herself together. She props her elbows on her knees and her chin on her hands and lets a grin wobble in a love-drunk line across her face.

"She touched me."