One hand and a deactivated ion cannon folds over his lap and his fingers are left splayed on his knee plates gripping tight. Shockwave used to talk half with his mouth and half with his hands. Always vibrant and moving. They both had that affected trait, he remembered.

The nascency of their ability to speak to one another on relatively amenable terms seemed so fragile to Shockwave that he, the infamous scientist with no moral boundaries and before that the firebrand of a senator, was reticent to continue. There was no better word for it than fear; a fear anything he said couldn't be taken back and this narrow window of opportunity to right what wrongs he could here vanishing before him.

"You look...well."

The wide yellow light of his singular optic roves over Trailcutter then falls to the floor. Ridiculous.