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Maybe he was changing. Cyclonus didn’t feel any different physically, but for the first time in eons worry clutched at his spark when Whirl was nowhere to be seen. Of course he hadn’t been seeking him out originally, but rather in passing Rung mentions to their captain that he didn’t show to therapy, just loud enough he could hear from his station at the window.
But when he didn’t show up to Swerve’s much to a disheartened Tailgate’s disappointment, he stands to pay his tab and goes in search of the copter.
Either nobody bothered to search very well, or the oil reservoir was the last place people seemed to look.
He doesn’t look up when Cyclonus sits next to his hunched figure at the edge of the reservoir. His optic was trained on the lightly rocking liquid gently lit by the passing stars. His EM field flared with hostility for a moment before waning into annoyance.
“What do you want.”
“You were being looked for.”
“So?” He spits.
Why are you here?”
Whirl turned his head just enough to see the thin line of his optic. “Having a picnic. Maybe I’ll take a dip later, wanna join?” His words dripped sarcasm and his field flared again.
He turns his gaze back down, now to his spindly legs where the wiring beneath his plating had been pulled and plucked and picked at to the point of fraying. A stray beam of light shined against his helm for a moment, highlighting the shadows of deliberate scratches against it.
Without thinking Cyclonus grabs Whirl’s claw before it begins to pluck again and holds it steadily.
His EM flairs, and makes eye contact this time. It's a cocktail of emotions that are hard to decipher all at once, but Cyclonus pushes back testily, open, and holds Whirl's gaze until it wavers and he begins to deflate.
Whirl sighs dramatically and drops his helm hard onto Cyclonus’s shoulder, and continues to press the side into the metal steadily.
Cyclonus makes a questioning noise, and stiffens, trying to ignore the odd tingling he felt being touched in a way that was not hostile or threatening for the first time in a while.
“It helps with the pressure.” Whirl mumbles, his optic dimming.
They sit in silence for a long time,and then, Cyclonus begins to rumble a haunting tune that echoes against the walls of the reservoir. Not quite a song, but something just loud enough to mistake as the sound of an engine in idle. Something he had used to calm himself when the quiet of dead space had become too much for him to bear.
He holds Whirl’s claw in a steady hand, slowly losing the once tight grip to just barely hovering over it. Something in his chest ached that made him want to hold it again, but he instead folds his own sharp tipped hands in his lap and finishes his tune with a drawn note slowly settingly into silence again.
After a long pause, Whirl vents tiredly, voice quieter and calmer than Cyclonus had ever heard it. “That sucked." It held no venom.
Whirl let out what sounded like a sniffle and turnt his helm away again. "Wanna cart me to medbay?”