First Aid was being patient, but the longer Sixshot hesitated, the more he had time to think and regret asking. Embarrassment ripples over him, making him feel hot with shame, and as the silence stretched it just grew worse until he was about to stutter out an apology.

The hiss of the mask retracting makes him pause, and when Sixshot finally looks up his optics flicker again. It's not what he expected. Handsome, but soft. Even the most well maintained Wrecker had a more rugged face.

He puffs out a small laugh, smiling with the ruins of his eyes, and then slowly reaches out again.

"Thank you." He speaks very softly, his voice wavering slightly as relief begins to seep in. "May I have your hand?"