Prowl was finishing up a few reports off duty when the knock came. He'd just barely gotten caught up on all his work due to various distractions over the last week and was in fact, feeling a little proud that he'd start tomorrow off with a clean slate for once. Then again, Prowl was almost positive he'd come into his office tomorrow to a mountain of datapads and once again fall behind, doorwings twitched at this, such was his lot in life.

When the knock sounded he frowned briefly, not expecting any visitors, especially since he'd been logged off duty for several hours now. With a simple "Come in." he offered his visitor access to his office and doorwings twitched again at seeing one of his own. A Praxian. He didn't know the mech personally but since the fall of Praxus he'd made it a point to know all of those Doorwingers under Prime's command. This youngling before him now, was Bluestreak if memory served correctly.

"Prowl, sir?" The grey mech questioned, clearly nervous if the downward twitching of his doorwings was anything to go by, "I was wondering if I could talk to you? I know you're off duty right now but this isn't anything official or anything I was just wondering if there was something you could help me with. I know you're really busy and everyone says you're always working and you don't have time for anything else but I'd really appreciate it if you could spare me a few hours and-"

"Bluestreak." The black and white cut off, which had the youngling standing a little straighter, if a bit proud at his designation being used without having given it to the mech. "What is it I can do for you?"

Oh right, he'd never gotten to that had he? "Oh, well, you see…I saw your scores from the target range and I was hoping you could help me improve? Ironhide just doesn't understand why I'm not shooting as well as everyone else and I don't either and I just want to be good and help everyone out and I don't want to be in a battle and miss if it means others get hurt because of it and-"

Again, Prowl had to cut him off, "Bluestreak, I am a tactician, not a marksmech, or a weapons specialist. If you feel you are not up to Autobot standards I can refer you to a proper tutor who can further assist you."

Grey doorwings drooped lowly as the would be gunner nodded slowly, "Sure…thanks Prowl, sir."

"Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"No, that's all." The grey mech murmured mostly before excusing himself from the other's office.

In the security hub a visored mech watched the conversation with an ever rising level of anger. There had been much that he'd let slide because a certain black and white didn't understand how things worked, hadn't fit in yet, or was out of his element. But this, this was unacceptable. Jazz stalked out of the monitor room and would have left it unattended if not for the fact that Red Alert was there, even though the mech was off duty.

Enlisted and command staff moved aside when the furious saboteur made his way towards the command offices. Even Prime himself thought it better to just stay out of Jazz's way, than have that anger be turned towards him.

There was no knock so much as there was a slamming as an override code was punched in and the access key was smashed causing the door to slide open without Prowl's approval. Said doorwinger glanced up with a bit of a frown, none the wiser to the danger he was in, "Jazz, it is highly inappropriate to-"

"Inappropriate?" The silver mech snorted, "Ya wanna know what's really inappropriate? Ya sendin' Blue away like that. Primus Prowl! He's a fraggin' youngling!"

Doorwings twitched and his frown deepened, blue optics slowly glancing towards the little camera in the corner of the room with contempt. "Jazz I merely suggested that Bluestreak take guidance for his issues with those who are specially trained to-"

"Don't you feed me that load of slag." Jazz growled, fists slamming on to the other's desk hard enough to leave dent marks. "Ya know, I get it Prowl. Praxus fell, ya lost everything. I know, it's gotta hurt, hurt real bad. So ya took all that hurt and ya bottled it up inside and that ain't right ta do, but that ain't why I'm here." Jazz didn't give Prowl time to protest, "Blue lost everythin' too Prowl, his friends, his instructions, frag Prowl his creators! He's just a youngling and he's fightin' this Primus forsaken war! So ya need ta just forget about yer own pain and sufferin' and pick another time ta wallow in guilt cause yer gunna march those twitchy doorwings of yers ta the Rec room and go apologize ta Blue. Then yer gunna take him ta the target range and teach him everything ya can about what it is to be Praxian Prowl, cause if ya hadn't noticed, he ain't got no one else ta look up to." Taking a moment to vent Jazz was pleased to see the cyber deer in the headlights look Prowl was giving, calming himself briefly Jazz continued, "There's more ta bein' in charge than given out orders and keepin' mechs alive Prowl. This is war, and we can't all be happy all the time, but any little bit you can bring ta the crew goes a long way, ya want ta win this war, ya gotta give the crew somethin' ta fight for." The anger had faded from Jazz's frame, having said his peace on the matter and for several seconds no one said a word-not even Red Alert who was observing from the monitor room.

Slowly, Prowl moved to stand, doorwings held in a neutral fashion as if unsure how to react, Jazz watched but said nothing, waiting for some indication that he had reached the black and white, that some level of progress had been made.

Prowl side stepped his desk, and moved towards the door without a move or motion towards Jazz, when he reached the doorway, still open from Jazz overriding it he glanced over his shoulder and a low resting doorwing, "Please ask Ironhide to reserve target room Beta for me."

Turning to face the doorwinger Jazz regarded him for several seconds before he nodded slowly with a weary smile, "Ya got it Prowler."