No Dates Here

Just the other day, YX-939 mentioned that his group worked around Nyon. Maybe they lived nearby, too; the disposable sewer bots were here pretty often. So, maybe it's not TOO much of a surprise that ol' 939 is simply walking along a street, not doing much of anything. 
No work, maybe? On break? Day off? Who knows. He doesn't seem to be going anywhere in particular.
The timing could not be more perfect. Swivel had just been at one of the work sites in search of YX-939. Failing finding him she was en route to try another place, only to see him wandering on the street not working. Well, perhaps even disposables get time off. Maybe. Seeing the familiar little mech Swivel picks up her pace, calling out "SPRIIIIiiTZ!'
Never before had a disposable jumped so high. In fact, several OTHER bots jumped in surprise as well; it's not every day someone yells like THAT on the streets of Nyon. Screaming? Sure. Yelling out a name? Not so much. 
"...Swivel?" YX-939 sputters in surprise; he shakes his head a little as he watches her rush towards him. "Is something wrong? Did something happen?!"
Upon reaching YX-Unit, Swivel begins to laugh a little, waving a hand dismissivley. "No no nothing wrong. Jus wanted t'catch y'fer some socializin'. Mebbe go fer a drink if y'kin get sumun' ta cover f'ya.... uh...." Swivel looks at Spritz for a moment or two. "Guess ya du'need someone t'cover fer ya as ya dun seem t'be workin'."
"Between shifts." Spritz says a little dumbly, optics wide and looking a little confused. "I just got off. I usually go for a walk. To, uhm, clear my head." A pause; he seems to be digesting the words that actually came from Swivel's mouth. "..A... A drink? Like... Like at an actual place that has drinks?" Smooth.
"Yeah. I figger jus oner ya mebbe none wi'notice or care tha'yer not there t'clean." She gives YX-939 an affectionate thump on the back. "Dun worry, I'm buyin'. Got m'self a 'efty tip, 'n it'll cover more 'en my usual two drinks," Swivel explains cheerfully. "B'sides, I 'ent brave t'get involved in, wotser word, candle-shine..... clanisten? Clandestine? Eh... fergot what I was sayin'. No worries. So, ya game?"
"Uhm... Uhm... Sure." Poor YX-939. He doesn't seem to know WHAT to think. But he seems to be blushing juuuust a little. "Okay. Yeah, I... I don't know where's good, though." Suddenly, he seems nervous. "I don't know much about drinks, either."
"Dun worry, I gotcha covered!" Swivel exclaims, thumping YX a few more times. "Jus a couple'o' chums goin' fer a drink t'reward 'ard work. Sure, we dun work TOGETHER, but, 'eh, we're both 'ard workers, 'en we? Well, ya d'no if I'm a 'ard worker or naw.... but jus' take me word for it, yeah?" Swivel laughs. Is she being intentionally oblvious or just trying to diffuse what could become an extremely awkward situation. "I know a place. Dim lightin' but dun get too rough."
YX-939 almost falls over under the power of the thumping; he actually stumbles a little, but catches himself. "O-Okay. I should have enough time before my next shift..." 
He follows, a bit nervous.
"Come thi'way!" Swivel beckons and begins walking down the street. 
And thus the two set off to a nearby-ish pub, one of the tamer places around, but also a favourite gathering for people who like to discuss their ideals.... because it isn't interrupted as often by brawls. 
"Righto, in 'ere," Swivel says standing at the entrance way. There is the slight din of a bass beat, but the rest of the music playing within is too muted to really make out for the average audials. Swivel gestures for YX-939 to follow and heads in.
Once incide a bar -- where disposables don't often go unless they have an actual job to do -- YX-939 becomes a bit more nervous. He doesn't have the bravado from that one time he led the charge; he was surrounded by a dozen of his friends, then! Could Swivel protect him if a fight broke out? Could HE protect HER? 
He's just a bit jittery as they take a seat.
As Swivel had said, the bar had a dim lighting, dark coloured walls, and a relaxed ambience. There are a few patrons huddled together at a table, and a few scattered across the stools at the bar. It's not a very big place, but the space it has is well utilized. Swivel smiles, having ushered YX into a booth seat. "You jus wait there, I'll get us some drinks, kay?" Swivel beams and turns to go get the aforementioned beverages. She has ever intention of choosing some engex that isn't too strong for the both of them. No point in wasting the little fella if he needs to be at work again.
Thus, YX-939 is left alone for a solid minute or so. He seems to shrink in his seat a little, trying to hide from the fact that, oh, hey, disposable in the bar, no need to look here, no siree. 
He thumps his fingers on the table, though. A nervous little tic. Thumpthumpthump.
Swivel doesn't take long to return with two drinks in her hand, dimly glowing. They appear to be identical. She sets them both down, then carefully slides one across the table over to Spritz. Then she sits down herself, pulling the drink to herself and staring at Spritz. Perhaps brnging him here was a bit cruel, but why shouldn't he enjoy some of the same simple pleasures as her? "Dun worry. An' if summun DOES cause trouble, I'll throw a drink in their optics an' we'll run for it." Yeah. Brave.
Those words actually seem to calm Spritz down. The little disposable straightens in his seat and takes hold of the drink. 
Sip. Sip. 
"...This is really good." Siiiip. "What is this stuff?"
"Eh, th'jus' call it Between Jobs. Seriously. Tha's wot it's called. Maccadams got something sim'lar but unner a diff name... uh... something t'do with peace're somsot. Dun 'member." Swivel takes a drink. She neither quaffs nor sips at hers. Just a normal mouthful of the beverage before setting her cup back down on the table. "Ya'din offen git engex, d'ya?"
YX-939 shakes his head between sips; he really seems to be enjoying it. If enjoying it VERY SLOWLY. "Not really. Once in a while, we'll find a drunk that left a bottle of something behind, but it's fifty fifty if it's good to drink or not. If it doesn't pass the smell test, I'm out, but some of the others are braver." A pause. "...Though, 391 got really sick once after he drank a bottle of... Something. He was out for DAYS." Sip.
"Yeah.... sumtimes there's more 'en jus engex in th'bottles o' sommer th'more 'ardcore drinkers." She thinks for a moment. "'En sumtimes th'use bottles to store stuff that 'en meant t'be drunk.... so's I 'ear." Swivel idly recalls some of the stories she had heard about Whirl's time on the streets in Dead End, and it didn't stop at just drinks. But no point in distressing YX-939 with those sorts of stories, and they might not even be true. Nope. Swivel is not a gossip. "Poor 391, though. Yer prolly wise t'be more cautious." Swivel is also not about to share her own desperate times when work has been slow and so she'd tried various forms of 'energon'... including sucking on a rag of bled energon. Yet again her thoughts are back to Whirl. Her optics flicker and she reminds herself to think happy thoughts. "Yer gunna be th'envy of yer'kin, 'avin' a drink loik tha'."
A small chuckle escapes YX-939. He takes another sip. How high is his enegex tolerance, anyway? "I don't know if I'll tell them about this. They tease me enough as it is!" Siiiip! There goes quite a bit of the stuff! "This stuff IS really good, though."
Did someone say a favorite gathering place for people who like to discuss their IDEALS? TIME TO BRING THE MESSAGE OF FREEDOM.
Hot Rod's arrival is inevitable. That he enters alone is a little unusual. That he's not showing signs of recent injuries or scrapes is somewhat remarkable. He sweeps through the door to pause a moment once inside. He stands framed by the doorway in a way that /has/ to be conscious. He scans the bar, but whatever it is he is looking for, he doesn't find it. After the pause, he continues in. He looks across the bar again and double-takes when he spots Swivel and YX-939. The turn of a single step brings him in range to say, "You look cozy." His tone is a little complicated.
A giggle ensues. Swivel winks an optic at Spritz. "Ooooooh, yeah, they gunna all ask 'ow yer date wi' Swivel was iffit g'out, ha ha ha. Tellin' 'em i's jus' a social thang 'ent gunna convince 'em, yeah?" Swivel chuckles again, holding the glass in front of her as if to take a sip, but has to stall until her laughter is finished. "We'll find a way t'turn it ba--- OH!" Swivel spills a bit of her drink as suddenly HOT ROD. She quickly grabs a rag to dab up the small spill as she looks over at Hot Rod and his unusual lack of dings and scratches and bullet wounds.
YX-939 doesn't seem quite as surprised to see Hot Rod as Swivel is; he does startle, but just a little. He then looks up. Blinks very slowly; his optics are actually full dark for a bit longer than a standard blink. "...Cozy? The tables are smaller than other places I've seen. Maybe it's an optical illusion." If he was trying to be funny, he doesn't act it. He just takes another sip of the engex.
Give him a few hours and Hot Rod can probably work his way up to some kind of scuff or injury. He reaches over to right Swivel's glass as she mops up the spill. "What a waste." He glances at the trace of engex left in the glass and shakes his head. "Uhm -- yeah, smaller. Cozier." He gives YX-939 a sidelong glance and a quick grin. "I don't think it's an illusion. I think it's intent. Am I interrupting something?" From his tone, he hopes so.
Mop mop mop. Satisfied that she got the most of it she looks at the glass that Hot Rod stood up fo her. She shrugs and snatches it, downing what little was left in it, then setting the glass down near the edge of the table. "Ye'sh'are. Yer int'ruptin' a couple o' chums 'avin' a well deserved drink after 'ard work." She gives Hot Rod a side glance, idly wondering what exactly his function actually is. She doesn't ask this out loud. NOt at the moment anyhow. "Sumtin' on yer mind, O'Rod?" Maybe an apology? Hey, a femme can hope.
By this point, Spritz has downed a little less than... A quarter of his beverage. Yeah, he's drinking that very slowly. When does his shift START, anyway? 
The little disposable looks up at Hot Rod. "Yeah, we're just having a drink after working a thing." He's starting to slurr. Just a little. Juuuust a little. He's got to have absolutely no engex tolerance. "It's a not date."
"Absolute a not dagte," Swivel choruses with a slightly impish expression.
What kind of function lends itself to a flashy spoiler and an eye-catching (-searing, depending on who you ask) paint job? Well, Hot Rod's not telling. (No, really, he gets mad when people ask, too.) Somewhat despite himself, he grins at YX-939's slurring and Swivel's echo. "So ... it's a date."
Putting on a pleasant smile and shrugging her shoulders, Swivel smoothly responds, "Call i'whatev' makes ya jolly." Okay, maybe not so smooth. It's hard to be smooth with an accent like that. Besides, Hot Rod is only one mech teasing them. It's not like it's all of group 5. "I see yer 'lone." Swivel adds her little observation. Is this meant as a jibe for him not having a date? Or... "Usually I see y'with a buncher yer fellow.... uh... wot do ya call yerselves 'enway, O'Rod? I mean, the Decepticons got 'emselves a name."
"This is a not date." YX-939 repeats in exactly the same tone; he's looking slightly more drunk. On a fifth of a glass of engex. "But it's a really nice not date." Sip. "I think they're called Autos. Autobeepers."
"Then I'm calling it a date. Good for you, Swiv. You show him a /criminally/ good time." Hot Rod continues to tease, and while largely good-natured, his tone has a slight edge. He gives YX-939 a /look/. "I really hope you're not thinking of the Autobots. We generally call ourselves people, or Cybertronians, sometimes 'Nyonians', but I've never really thought that works that well. We're not Decepticons," he says to Swivel. "I don't see why we need a name just to do the right thing."
"'Course ya need a name. Or mebbe ya jus' 'ave some sorter... secret 'andshake're sumtin... Names... they's got power, yanno? Sumtin'... sumtin wi'meaning. An'... iffit's fer a group o' peeps, it unifies 'em. Names. Power. Power. Names. Also so y'kin set yerselves 'part from us cowards tha' also wanner do th'right things but in smaller ways." Awe, does having a drink turn Swivel into a passive aggressive piss-head? Hopefully not. She doesn't sound reproachful or sarcastic in the least. She sounds almost earnest when calling herself a coward. "Li' takin' a friend t'a bar 'spite 'im bein' a 'sposable, coz ya like 'em an' wanner 'ave a drink wi'em iffen 'ciety frowns on it."
There's a 'thud' and the light splash of a couple of drops of engex as YX-939 'slams' his drink back down. Really, it's more of a slightly more harder placement than a real slam. The little disposable then looks back to Hot Rod. "It's not criminal! It's not criminal to be in a bar!" Oops, you used the magic word there, Hot Rod. "I'm not a crook!" 
Then, Swivel's words seem to actually get to him. His optics widen as he stares at the femme. "You like me?"
Arcee strolls into the place, her expression one of sober contemplation. She doesn't look around very much before having a seat at a small table near the bar. She has her datapad out, and is busy with reports or some other sort of business.
Hot Rod's mouth is open to say something to Swivel -- and front the glint in his eyes, it's probably going to be pointed. Then YX-939 is slamming his drink down on the table just as hard as he can. He checks himself, and settles back on his heels. He half smiles. "Okay. You're not a crook. Come on, Y, it's not like Swiv takes just /anyone/ out on a /date/."
Oh Swivel was being earnest as all get-out, which is sad really, because she could potentially have a biting wit if the things she said weren't literal. So it is probably best that YX interrupted Hot Rod before he could use more pointy words at the femme. Especially since she can get over-emotional when she's had some engex. "O'course I like'ya. Why else'd I be takin' ya fer a drink?" Swivel asks, seeming a bit incredulous. Of course, she just might be missing the implication. When she says she likes someone, it is what it is. She likes them. Not fancies them. Ah, but the femme can be horribly thick-headed in these regards. 
While Swivel is staring with a somehwat blank expression, her opic catches sight of Arcee. She does go to wave, but realises she did not catch the femme's eye before she was seated, so she decides not to wave after all. Instead she gives Hot Rod an odd look. Then... slowly... "Oh wait, since when do you know 'oo I take on dates?" Swivel recalls her list of.... no one. The femme's never really been on a date before.
"...This is a date?" YX-939 blinks slowly again; he's amazed! Incredibly, terribly amazed! He takes another sip of the engex. He's ALMOST halfway done with it. Almost. "...I like you too." 
He then slowly looks up at Hot Rod. "She turned down the flier guy. And he looked like a super high class guy, too."
Arcee looks up as she overhears 'flyer guy'; her head pops up and she stares over at YX with a strange expression. Then, she realizes who she's looking at, and her alarmed expression gives way to recognition and a relaxed smile.
Hot Rod's caught flat-footed at Swivel's question, but YX-939 is there to rescue him: "See? You turned down the flier guy, so obviously you don't just go for anyone." He holds his hands up and waves off their confessions, "But if you guys have moved onto the 'I like you' portion of the evening, maybe I'll leave you to your spilled drinks and awkward confessions." He glances away from them toward the bar where he spots Arcee. He tips one lifted hand in a wave before dropping both.
It perhaps would be more decorous for Swivel to appear bashful. But she doesn't. "I turned down.... OH! The mech with Thundercracker." Yeah. Just some mech. Just Starscream of Vos. "I dinna turn 'im down, 'e 'ad t'leave abruptly. There wun' 'enthin' TO turn down," Swivel clarifies in a matter-of-fact tone. "Prolly 'ad sumtin' t'do wither all tha' coughin Thundercracker was doin'. They seemed t'me to be real close, way they teased 'n insulted eachother while still lookin' all concerned." Swivel sees what she wants to see sometimes. 
"An' this 'ent a date. I'm jus' 'ere with a friend...." Swivel seems very confused how it escalated to a date. And probably not aware she could potentially crush Spritz' feelings. Or ego. If he had one. "'Less we're callin' those dates too?"
Indeed, poor Spritz does seem to shrink a little at Swivel's proclamation that this was, in fact, not a date. A not date. "...It's a not date." GLUG. Oh my. "Just a nice drink with a friend." 
Shrink. Deflate. Glug. He looks up at Hot Rod as he walks off. ... Glug.
Now that Arcee notices Hot Rod and Swivel as well, she waves over at them. "Hey guys," she greets.
"What was wrong with Thun--?" Hot Rod cuts the question off when Arcee heads over. He sweeps the trace of concern beneath a smile. "Hey, 'Cee." Glancing between Swivel and YX-939, he pats the latter briefly on the shoulder. "Hey, at least you got a drink out of it, mech."
Oh, hey! Arcee noticed her. Swivel smiles, leaning sideways out of her booth a little and waving her arms. "Ey!" She greets very informally. But then, Swivel tends to be informal. Seems today she's set what little she's learned from Blast Off aside. Swivel settles herself back into her seat, wiggling a little to get just the right amount of comfort. "Mean, last I checked we was friends.... I mean ya said ya liked me, so's, tha means friends." Way for Swivel to over-simplify. She goes to take another drink... then stares at the empty glass in her hand, having forgotten she'd spilled the contents. She stands up. "Mebbe I otter g'meself a'nor one."
YX-939 shifts in his seat a little. He nods a little to Swivel. "Yeah. Yeah, friends. Friends are nice." 
He looks up at Arcee's approach and blinks. Squints. "...You look really familiar but I don't know why. Did I clean your home recently?" Sip.
Arcee has a seat beside Hot Rod, and orders a fairly mild drink. She obviously doesn't want to be too out-of-sorts. "Swivel, I have some advice for you...I know I'm sort of butting into this conversation, but this is important. Don't get involved with those guys. *ESPECIALLY* Starscream. Do --not-- get involved...at all...don't believe a single thing he says. Or it's going to come back to haunt you. Please, believe me."
Suddenly, YX stops that particular train of thought coming from Arcee, and she smiles at him weakly. "No, you were being a badaft in Blaster City, remember? Killing all the things. Not cleaning homes."
"Starscream's nothing but bad news," Hot Rod agrees. With an /Autobot/. (It's okay, though. It's Arcee.) His tone is bitter in a way he usually reserves for the Senate. He holds off on teasing the other two now that Arcee is here. He's a little better behaved. For Hot Rod. "What's this about Blaster City?"
"Oh so THA' was Starscream... 'e din 'xactly introduce 'imself." She thinks for a moment, seeming satisfied for a split second. Then her optics bug open and she sits down again. "Tha' was STARSCREAM?" If she had liquid in her mouth she'd have spat it out. She knows the name and the assosciated rank, never knew which paint job belonged to which flier... other than Thundercracker. If the femme had anything more to say about anything else, she's currently too dumbstruck to say it. Or think it.
YX-939 blinks slowly. Veeery slowly. He looks shocked and appalled at Arcee's reminder. "O-oh, th-that. I... That was..." GLUG. "...That was an accident and please don't tell anybody it could get me in trouble and then things could be very bad please keep it secret okay?" Is he shrinking in to the chair? He might be trying to shrink in to the chair.
"Ohhhh. Oops! Yeah, uh...I didn't see you in Blaster City, mowing down sparkeater-tained insecticon drones," Arcee says with a smile, obviously kind of impressed with the second life this 'typical' cleaning bot happens to lead. She sips her drink, then mentions to Hot Rod, "Oh, this was crazy. Seems there was a rogue insecticon colony running rampant in the vicinity, and...get this, the queen had been changed into a SPARKEATER. So the colony was killing everything in sight. Good times were had by all. And by that, I mean, it was downright vicious before things improved."
Arcee looks at Swivel. "Again, I kind of...jumped into your conversation uninvited, so I'm not sure who you saw or when, but you'd know this guy. Red and blue trim, silverish...extremely attractive, and will use you like a puppet drone if he gets half a chance."
"Starcreep," Hot Rod mutters. Jerkscream. Whatever. Creativity is not a high priority in name-calling. "/Extremely attractive/?" He sounds so incredulous -- offended, really! "Who goes for that kind of thing," he scoffs. "The guy is just 100% jerk and thinks he's the best thing since the first Cybertronian learned to transform. You should see the way he poses every time he arrives somewhere, too." (Pot, kettle.)
Hot Rod tries his hardest to move on. He really does. "You know, when we had an Insecticon colony creep up on Nyon, I actually got Kickback to talk it down. Of course, no sparkeaters involved. Might not help."
Poor Spritz. He's practically inhaling what's left of his engex now. Any hope of showing back up to his next shift sober is long gone. Look, he's practically drunk already! 
"What's his name? Starsky? He was very tall. Very shiny paint, too." A sigh. "Must be nice to be shiny all the time."
Swivel just slowly nods to Arcee, still looking rather stupefied. "Tha's th'one...." she says in a small, slightly squeakier voice. And she just sort of... nods and makes non-commital sounds as people talk, but it's obvious she isn't listening. She's too busy being in shock.
Arcee seems kind of amused by Hot Rod's rankled reaction. "I was describing him for Swivel, not for you, I know YOU know who he is," she laughs. "And I wasn't so much referring to, uh...physical things. It has much, much more to do with...'presence'. That's what I meant. Don't blow a fuse, I think we can all agree that he's no good." She nods slowly at Spritz, then her smile fades a bit. "I have to attend a state funeral in a few cycles. Couple of field ops were killed. And they weren't jerks, they were good mechs."
Hot Rod goes, "Hmph." Watching Arcee fade, he derankles enough to say, "Hey, sorry to hear that." Kind of. Mostly. He tries, anyway. It doesn't ring perfectly sincere, but he certainly seems sympathetic to the fact /she/ is sad, at least. "That the thing in Kaon? I only heard rumors."
Well, that's a bit of mood whiplash; YX-939 looks to Arcee at her admission. "I'm sorry for your loss. It sucks when we lose our buddies." Sip. Almost done with that mug of his now.
Swivel says nothing. In fact, she hasn't moved in a while either.
"They knew the risks. It was violent, though. They didn't go gently." Arcee sips her drink. "...." Then stares awkwardly at Swivel, who seems to be going into a catatonic state. "Seriously, don't let me hijack the conversation here," she insists.
"Well, we could always go back to how much Starscream sucks," Hot Rod suggests. Helpfully. (Not helpfully.)
YX-939 takes another sip of his drink. He looks at Swivel and her catotonic state. 
Pretty visibly drunk -- he smells it, somehow, too -- he gently pats her hand. "Swivel? It's okay. You could probably still go out with him if you wanted. He's super important, right? I hear people go all conjux for money all the time. It's okay."
Swivel's optics go dark for a moment and she remains still - rigid even - until a few moments later when her optics blink on again. Finally, a sign of movement. She turns her head to looks at everyone around her and looks just a little bit confused, maybe disoriented. "Sorry.... wott're we talkin' bout? I kinner got lost in m'thoughts."
Arcee chuckles at Hot Rod's pissiness. Sometimes, she can't help but think he's really very cute when he gets fed up. Spritz' comment gets him a double-take. "What?? What did you just say? I can't believe you just said that!" she exclaims, looking completely stunned.
"Y says it's okay if you hook up with Starscream for his shanix," Hot Rod summarizes. "Which is a terrible idea, by the way. Don't do that."
YX-939 actually doesn't shrink back at everyone's stunned disagreement. "Why not? All the movies have things like that. Noble people falling in love with someone in a lower caste and then they both become super noble and live happily ever after." Well, he did say the YX bots watched a lot of movies together.
"Thing is, in the movies, it's all scripted to turn out *good*," Arcee says. "But you have to be really careful dealing with a master manipulator like Starscream. If you're going to mess with him, you'd better have something to bring to the table, because he isn't going to play fair."
"Doesn't matter /what/ you bring to the table. He's going to lie and cheat to get what he wants without giving you anything," Hot Rod says with rising heat. He casts a glance at YX-939 and straightens away with a shake of his head. "Nah, mech. Why don't you go look up how it /really/ turns out for people who try to ignore their castes like that, huh? All thanks to this scrap system." He vents in a hard exhale, but his expression brightens when he spots a pair by the door. Looking shifty. Of course. "And there's my party. Enjoy the rest of your, uh." He makes a visible effort to try to /not/ say it, but he does: "Date."
Can you count the microexpressions? I can't. For many of them zip across Swivel's animated face to a point where it is really difficult to define her immediate reaction. She ends up making a coughing noise and then hitting her chest with a fist. Finally, she just stares at Spritz. "Uh..... no.... no not these days. Summun near th'top involvin' 'emselves wi'lower placers loik me'self... well it's not 'ceptable. Peeps kin get in a lotter trouble. THough, low'ins loik meself're really th'ones t'get 'urt if it goes t'far." Swivel has NO idea what too far actually looks like. She just knows that she heard somewhere about things like this. "An as Arcee says, tha's th'movies." Swivel straightens up a little. "Yeah loik wot O'Rod is sayin...." Silence. Stare at Hot Rod. Shrug. "Date. NOt date. Dun matter... I jus' came 'ere t'enjoy company of Spritz wi'out 'im bein' teased by 'em..." She trails off into murmurs.
"...Oh." The drunk cleaning bot seems to be thinking this over. Or trying to. "...Oh, he's like that bot with half a face that lived beneath the theatre in 'The Spark of the Crystal Towers', right?" What the heck has he been WATCHING? 
But then Hot Rod really does stomp off. "...I don't think he likes me."
"Talk to you later, Rod," Arcee waves, still smiling slightly. She looks back at Spritz and Swivel, as a sudden realization sets in. "...Please tell me you two aren't actually on a date, because...I'll be very sad if I butted in and began talking about Starscream *and* a state funeral while you were trying to have an enjoyable evening."
It's a pretty minimal stomp, if that's a stomp. It seems that Hot Rod's found what he was first looking for when he got here, and it looks like that was another pair of likely troubles. Off he goes to rabble rouse, leaving the trio to their drinks.
==NOTICE==
 The scene continued after here, but due to technical difficulties, a huge chunk of it is missing.  I (Swivel) will post what I /do/ have, and HOPEFULLY someone has the missing parts of the log, particularly the part where Thundercracker showed up briefly, and can add them.
===Back to IC shenanigans===
"Be polite, yet firm," Arcee says. "Call him 'sir' or whatever you have to do, I mean you don't need to be rude or anything like that. But don't let him get those emotional hooks into you, because he'll rip them out hard when you least expect it."
Spritz is staring in to his mug, now; he has the look of someone who's seen something REALLY INTERESTING. Maybe he's getting in to the 'weird' end of drunk, now. "If he did that to a lot of femmes, I wonder why he still has high standing and is so shiny."
"Because he's very intelligent, extremely clever, has ample resources and...it works for him," Arcee tells Spritz. "He can lie his way out of trouble a lot of the time."
YX-939 slowly looks up to Arcee. "He's also very shiny. He's shiny and smart. Like all the super villains in the movies." Does he have NO OTHER reference points? "...And I hope he doesn't hurt Swivel because then I'll be very sad. I like her very much." 
With that, he rests his head on the table and... Falls asleep? He seems to have just drunkenly drifted off. 
Doesn't he have a shift soon?
For a time Swivel chews on the advice Arcee gives her. She really had no attachment to him. So she doesn't feel like she was in any danger of any delusional fancy for the mech. Truly, her concerns were whether or not she'd survive his conquest, that is, once she got the fuller picture and was done just taking in the compliments like some empty headed fool. "Thanks... Arcee. It was Arcce, roight? Yeah I'm sure it was... but it is roight?" Swivel quaffs the rest of her drink and then sets the glass down gently. "We shoo prolly... er... Spritz? Spritz?" Swivel whistles at him and then leans forward, nudging him with her hand.
"Yup, that would be me," Arcee confirms for Swivel, her gaze going to the passed-out cleaning mech. "Aww, looks like he checked out." She can't help but smile, because the little guy is kind of cute. "Well, I'll leave you be for now. Need to head out on patrol. Nice talking to you!"
YX-939 is not waking up. He's out like a light. He's even snoring eeeever so slightly. Good job, Swivel!
Well. This isn't good. If Spritz can't work, he could be in serious trouble, and the only person to blame would be Swivel. This whole venture was irresponsible and she begins to wonder if she isn't becoming something of a bad influence and disruption for Spritz. Swivel barely thinks about wishing Arcee goodbye. She does it, she just doesn't think about it. She just tries to remember some of the things that sober up a mech fast. But for now... 
Swivel gets out of her chair and goes around the table to where Spritz is conked out. She carefully gets her arms under his armpits, tickly as they are, and begins to drag him out of his seat. This gets a few awkward stares from people in the bar, but it's not SO unusual. While dragging YX out, she mutters a few self deprecating things to herself.
There is nothing for it but to drag Spritz off somewhere safe, and then try ALL the methods of waking up and rapidly sobering a drunken mech - that is, all the things that don't seem too dangerous or invasive.
With a little sigh, Swivel rubs both of her cheeks. She really should have been paying better attention to his intake. But wanted to spoil Spritz so. "Yeah, tha's normal. I limit m'self t'two drinks fer tha' reason," Swivel says. "Eh' I'll g'ba'wi'ya jus' t'make sure ya'rive safely." Swivel puts her arm out to YX-939.
YX-939 is just a little stumbly, but at least he isn't REEKING of 'drunk'. He holds on to Swivel's arm. "Thanks." He looks a little happier, at least. "I hope no one notices I'm out of it."
"Yeah... 'opefully. Shall we get goin'?" Swivel asks, letting herself smile now as she offers some stability to YX's stumbling.