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“That was the worst,” Ratchet said as he transformed just outside the Ark’s entrance.

“It was not that bad,” Prowl replied.

Ratchet stepped close, and poked a grease paint smear on Prowl’s doorwing. “Yeah? Well next time you can be the clown. I’ll be the art board.”

“It was for a good cause,” Prowl said and headed inside. “We draw quite a crowd, and the director mentioned that this year’s donations were double that of last year. It also helps our public image.”

Ratchet flapped a hand at the tactician and aimed himself down the hall toward the washracks. “Sure, as long as it doesn’t include me wearing a cowboy hat, chaps, and spurs again."