"Mayday." Wing sets the plants gently on the ground and takes a step towards him, reaching up to cup Mayday's face between warm, solid hands. His body is reacting helplessly to the sharp scent of lubricant in the air and the charge rolling off Mayday's frame, but he ignores it firmly for a moment as he just touched very softly at Mayday's helm, stroking with his fingertips before he leans down to plant a kiss in the middle of Mayday's forehelm.

"We don't have to. I can go get someone for you, if you'd prefer. Or just help you get home. It's ip to you."