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'A few kliks passed before the saboteur leaned in and, suddenly, kissed Prowl's lips. The cold sensation of his plating was a shock. Maybe it was Jazz’s imagination, but Prowl’s plating felt so light he almost thought he missed his face. Jazz didn't mind. He felt his spark warm; this was his Prowl.'
In which Jazz finds Prowl colder than normal, Prowl is sad, and everyone is worried about Jazz.
(Written for the Monochromantic Jazz/Prowl Fanzine!)