Starscream tapped his pede impatiently, arms folded. His optics flicked toward the door again. “Late. Late, as always. Hmph.” He sighed dramatically, wings drooping in an exaggerated pout. “The very least they could do is bring me a bouquet of flowers—something worthy of my magnificence. But no, I’m left waiting like a common soldier…” Despite his words, there was a faint nervous gleam in his optics—worry mingled with anticipation.