"I'll still be here," Sixshot promises, even as his voice wavers and his optics dim under First Aid's gentle touch. He's so blissed out by fingers on his ears he almost misses the medic's question entirely.

"My face?" he echoes. Then it clicks and his fields flicker with a sudden, anxious uncertainty. The last person who'd seen his face was Tarn, after all, the root of all his heartbreak and all their current misery.

The wolf-mech hesitates before drawing in a long, deep cycle of air and carefully shaking off First Aid's hand. The transformation from beast to bipedal mode was a simple one, easy enough to pull off in the tight space of the medical bay. He ends up on his knees next to the berth, hand hovering over his mask.

"... Why?" he asks suddenly.