He huffs. Slowly letting the air back out of his systems. This isn't a conversation he wanted to have. Or knew how to have. But... it's true. All of it.

He can't hide it from his partner.

"I don't even know what to call you anymore," he admits, lamely. "Half the time, I start saying Paximus in my head." Those big shoulders twitch. "When I saw you last, you were still jumping off roofs and doing reckless scrap left and right..."

And I was right there with you.

"I get knocked on the head and you're... Prime."

And where does that leave me?