"Sniffed it out from under a building," Sixshot answers. He notices the way Tarn's optics slide over the badge on his chest but pretends that he doesn't. "Might've been a big hospital once from the looks of the rubble."

Should he ask? He could guess what had happened with the scents that lingered on Tarn's plating, the gaping blankness where a badge had once been. It struck him quietly as rather unfair. Here was a loyalist without his faction mark while Sixshot still walked around with his own still welded neatly in place.

Was it even his place to ask, then?

Leaving the box next to his companion, the green and white mech goes to lean against the opposite wall, self-consciously folding his arms over his badge.

"It's medical-grade engex," he says with a shrug. "Should boost your healing."