There was a party going on.

Optimus wasn’t one for partying, but sometimes he liked to
sit nearby and watch everyone. It was interesting to see how everyone acted when
they were buzzed and happy, how the groups sorted themselves out and interacted
with others.

The medics were off to one side, complaining at each other
and anyone who would listen about idiots and idiotic medical cases, thoroughly
enjoying their complaining. Except Acus, who was pressed tight to Scalpel’s
side, silent but awake and watching. Poor mech didn’t socialize much in larger
groups, he just sat and listened. Maybe that was socializing for him, Optimus
didn’t know. He seemed happy, and Scalpel wouldn’t be here with him if he wasn’t.

Over by the bar, Swerve and the silver-green limb bundle of
Duo were chattering chemical formulas around a strange, twisty apparatus,
evidently distilling or mixing or chemically altering something. It was
probably supposed to be a drink. If Swerve was involved, it was most likely a
drink. Hopefully they’d remember to keep in mind that others couldn’t drink
quite the variety of things that Duo could.

And, that was unusual- everyone past a certain size had
grouped into one part of the room. Avalon was in the group as well, oddly for
him, though he’d fit himself into a corner rather than getting involved in the
literal, friendly shoulder-bumping of the rest.

Something else unusual; someone being thrown through the
air. That almost never happened. 

Optimus stopped in surprise as a small frame
zipped by him at about chassis height, hitting the wall opposite the group with
a rather amusing splak sound. It
would have been concerning, except that the mech –oh, that was Hijack, wasn’t
it?- stuck to the wall on a hastily-painted target, looking thoroughly
unconcerned. Leaning back with three limbs still attached to the wall, they
tapped the spot they’d hit and called “two points!” back at the audience, then
dropped off the wall and trotted back over to jump into Bracer’s servos.

Well. Evidently there was a game going on. Consisting of
throwing Hijack at a target on the wall. Hijack looked to be having fun, and
they were genetically designed to be
thrown at solid targets, but Optimus stayed where he was to watch and be sure
all involved were having fun.

Hijack, giggling and tipsy but clearly aware, shifted around
until their stomach was against Bracer’s palm and spread the thin, metallic
flight-membrane that led from their elbows to their knees. Goggles and face
mask in place, they wiggled in evident anticipation, tapping on his servo. “Go
on. Hard mode!”

Bracer had clearly done this several times already, and he
pulled his arm back as if to throw a dart or a model glider. As he did, Hijack
shifted, spreading the membranes askew in what would probably make them spiral
in flight.

Nobody got to see if Bracer could still make the shot while
tipsy and on “hard mode”, though, because he sneezed right as he launched
Hijack. Hijack, spiraling thanks to the tilt of their membranes, spun wildly
off to the side-

And hit Optimus’ chassis with, hilariously, the exact same splak noise it produced when they hit a
solid wall.

Everyone aware of the situation froze, seeming unsure how to
respond, then about half the watchers started laughing. Bracer among them, apologizing
through wheezy giggles, rubbing the back of his helm awkwardly but looking far
too amused to be contrite.

To be fair, it was rather
funny. Hijack was still splayed along Optimus’ front, stuck on by magnets and
suction cups, face against Optimus’ windshield. After a nanoklik or two, they
looked up at Optimus, blinking owlishly, then somehow shrugged without moving
their arms. “This works.”

Optimus, still among the mechs with no idea how to respond,
automatically settled a servo on Hijack’s back and attempted to pull them off.
They did not come off. “Ah. I… suppose it does, for you. I will be honest,
however, it is strange for me. I would prefer to return you to your game. Would
you… let go?”

He might have been able to pry Hijack off if he tried, but
he didn’t want to risk injuring them. They weren’t threatening him or being
aggressive, they’d just stuck onto him and decided not to move. The friendly,
tipsy EM field explained that reluctance- evidently they were a cuddly drunk.

Hijack blinked several times, looking around, then grinned
up at Optimus and cocked his helm further. “Let go if you throw me back
over.  Actually- at the ceiling. Throw me at the ceiling.”

…why not? Optimus offered a tiny smile, attempting to grip
Hijack’s back plating firmly enough to support them if they released their hold.
“I will, however it will be difficult if you continue to hold onto me. I cannot
throw myself at the ceiling, unfortunately, the Matrix does not allow me to
alter physics to that degree. I also have no way to hold myself up if I were to
hit the ceiling.”

Hijack slumped obligingly into Optimus’ servos, and Optimus
turned them over, then brought his arm back and tossed them at the ceiling. No
reason not to. At worst, he could catch them if they fell, and they probably
wouldn’t fall hard enough to do any damage in any case.

The worst did not happen. Hijack hit the ceiling and stuck
fast, heralded by several enthusiastic whoops from the watchers. The voiced
approval only increased when Hijack began to move across the ceiling, slowly
but surely, detaching one suction cup at a time and fastening it in a new
place. When they were over the game-players, they let go and fell onto Bracer,
ending up stuck to his shoulder.

Cute. Oddly cute for such a strange mech.

Optimus almost considered joining the game, but decided
against it. Among other things, he wasn’t drunk enough to make it a fair match,
nor did he particularly want to join the drinking. Not to that extent, at
least. Maybe he’d go find out what Swerve and Duo were working on.

Circling around the group, Optimus made his way over to the
bar counter, and heard another splak behind
him. A quick glance over his shoulder revealed that, yes, Bracer had made the
shot.

Good for him.

And good for Hijack, getting around the semi-understandable unease
of them to make friends.

Now, what in Primus’ name were the twins doing with a bottle
of glitter?