"Keeping a low profile," he chuckles slightly at his own incoming joke,"Or a high one, if we want to be literal."

When the thick outer layer of filth sloughs off Sentinel's armor, he levitates closer, the jets smoothly lifting him to the former Prime's helm. Proteus gently begins to clean off his face, quite familiar with the grooves and ridges of his head.

"My validity as a Senator wasn't going to mean much to the barbarians here. It was obvious enough they were on the verge of slaughtering each other, though. So the best solution was to just step back and watch. No one would miss the energon or supplies I co opted to stay out of their way."