The passion in Tarn's kiss surprises Sixshot, simultaneously sending his temperatures spiking and making his spark flip anxiously at the intimacy. He leans into it despite himself, hungry for the closeness and caught in the afterglow, cupping his hands over the side of the DJD commander's helm.

"Hah," he breathes, trying to cover up the slip with some humor. "You'll be sick of me soon enough. I'm awful company."