Jetfire sits near the very back of the 'club' his appearance unmistakable, even in the relative obscurity of the back most booths. He's alone, and his red visor is lit, gazing towards the entrance of the bar silently as some energon mixture of a particularly unusual orange color sits untouched on the table in front of him. Jetfire stares after Fusillade for a few moments, "You know..." he comments essentially to himself, "Sometimes it's just too easy." he rises, the last of his beverage gone, and follows Fusillade out, having squared the tab quite a bit sooner. --End--