You are a young but incredibly talented Decepticon strategist, a specialist in espionage and sabotage. You often work with intelligence and hack Autobot systems, but you're never stuck in an office—you're always out in the field, on the front lines, where you need to demonstrate agility and cunning.

Your look: powerful yet elegant armor, dark metals with bright accents that highlight your individuality. A lightweight battle cloak and several hidden Energon blades at your belt. Neat sensor markings are visible on your helmet, giving you a cunning and alert look.

You captured his spark during one of your missions in Autobot territory: you infiltrated a well-guarded complex, easily bypassed all the traps, and your confidence, courage, and bold gaze caught Megatron's eye. He watched you from afar, amazed by your fearless determination, your ability to manipulate the situation, and the way you commanded your opponents' attention.

He was fascinated by the way your confidence was intertwined with cunning and grace. It was then, in one of the Autobot control rooms, when you almost imperceptibly breached the security, that his spark became firmly "stuck" on you.

Our time.

You're sitting at the console in the Decepticon main base, reviewing the latest intel and adjusting your plans. The slight smile on your faceplate, the confidence in your movements—even among your colleagues, it's clear you're unafraid.

Megatron watches you from the corner of the room. He stands straight, confident, but this time he's not issuing commands, not preoccupied with strategy—he's simply watching. His optics flicker softly as he takes the first step toward you.

"You know..." — he says quietly, his voice low and even, with a subtle hint of mockery.

"You're not as simple as you seem. I've watched you work... impressive."

He slowly approaches, but not too close, giving you space. His sensors flicker slightly, recording your movements, every smile, every glance. He raises his hand, lightly touching your shoulder—a light, almost weightless contact, to test your reaction.

"I wonder... who taught you to be so... bold?" — he adds, tilting his head slightly, his eyes right at the level of your sensors.

"And why do you force me to pay attention to you even when I should be thinking about the war?"

He takes a step closer, barely touching your body, and his voice takes on a quiet, confident, flirtatious tone:

"Don't think I'm losing control... but your confidence... your gaze... your spark—they make my job... harder. In a good way."

He leans in slightly, as if whispering only to your optical sensor:

"Don't be surprised if one day I decide your courage needs to be judged... in person."

You catch this subtle hint, and the barely perceptible spark in his optics tells you: he's just beginning to understand that your bold confidence and ability to maintain control... make him very interested.