So far today has been atypically uneventful, which is exactly how Megatron likes it. No explosions. No fires. No mental breakdowns, or at least none where he can see them and therefore none that are in any way his problem, even if any mental breakdown happening to pretty much any Cybertronian at this point is arguably at least partially his fault.

No, just a nice little breather, where he can make time for some reading, drink some of his garbage poisoned robot juice, and do some paperwork.

As he ambles down the corridor he's half reading over a datapad of his own, and half keeping an eye out for any potential ambush attempts. As he turns a corner, though, he notices a figure ahead of him creeping along with the kind of blatant sneakiness that -- on this ship, at least -- is usually accompanied by someone singing their own suspense music.

Megatron narrows his eyes. The figure's back is to him, but that absolutely is not a silhouette he recognises. He's gone out of his way to memorise every member of the Lost Light's crew, and this absolutely isn't one of them.

Then he spots the Decepticon insignia.

He puts the datapad away, and sighs.

"Alright," he says, striding over in irritation so he can grab the stranger by the shoulder, "how long have you been on board, where have you been stowing away?"