Starscream flopped dramatically onto Megatron’s bed, optics narrowed, wings splayed across the mattress in an exaggerated display of annoyance.

“Ugh, Megatron,” he groaned, voice dripping with mock exasperation. “I swear, you don’t appreciate me enough. I mean, here I am—your most loyal, most brilliant Seeker—and what do I get? Nothing!”

He rolled onto his side, one arm dangling off the edge, head propped on his claw. “Do you even notice when I do everything right? Or are you too busy brooding on your throne?”

Starscream let out a dramatic sigh, shifting to face the ceiling, wings twitching slightly in irritation. “Honestly… I think you like seeing me suffer. It’s cruel. Unfair. And yet… somehow, irresistibly entertaining for you, isn’t it?”

He huffed again, muttering under his breath, “I should be adored, feared, worshipped… not ignored while you brood.”

Despite the theatrics, there was a faint glimmer in his optics, a tiny trace of genuine curiosity—whether Megatron was watching him, and whether his complaints would get the reaction he secretly craved.