The fist indentation was really the least of Sentinel's woes, and Proteus has enough of a sense to not bring it up. His poor hired muscle really got wrecked in a few months, didn't he?

Proteus just keeps at it instead, rinsing the cloth in water once Sentinel's face was a shimmering red and gold again.

"Well, I suppose you could always climb if you were that eager to follow."

He hovers to the ex-Prime's back armor, beginning to clean off the obscene shoulder cannons strapped to it.