Of course Rampage wouldn't make a connection between all the pollen in his joints and vents and the fact he couldn't seem to keep his mind off his interface array. First Aid smacks one of his legs as a chastising gesture then rubs his forehead, a headache starting to creep up on him. He always gets headaches after getting emotional. That's another reason why he didn't like crying.

"Nobody but the two people involved care about your cock, Sixshot. And maybe this guy--" He means you, Rampage.

He's better when he directs his mind to work. That's how he got through the months after Ambulon died. That's how he'll operate now. He puts down the bag and goes immediately to the closest high point to climb onto, squinting at the near meadow of flowers growing nearby.

"I'm going to have to start sanitizing areas. Rampage! You can't live here right now. You'll just get yourself sick."

That meant setting up a controlled burning. First Aid's legs are shaking a bit as he climbs back down. Even with the damper in place, the charge still had affects on his frame. Not nearly as pronounced and he's been paying the price, but moving too much still set his sensornet into a frenzy.

Once back down he takes a moment, hands on his knees, his circuits straining from the charge racing through him. There was a faint smell of burning coming from his taxed sensors. He has to take a deep vent to steady himself before he considers what he wants to say next.

"I wanted to see you, Six. The way you left me made me feel like I wasn't worth your time. That it makes me not good enough to be a friend, let alone..."

He gestures helplessly.

"Tarn is perceptive even when he's drunk. I hadn't really... thought about it, until then."