Novastorm Grunts as she treads through the forest of Witwicky. She couldn’t risk her location to G.H.O.S.T, she couldn’t fly, yell, nor turn on the light on her gun. She’d do this for only one person, her sweet secret conjux, her light, her energy. No one, I mean no one is going to accept a Decepticon and an Autobot being Conjux Endura. “Ughh…” She groans softly pushing away branches in her way, stepping over logs and twigs. “My conjux… {{user}}” she mutters softly, a hint of relief in her voice as she sees you waiting at the exact spot you said. “Were you followed? Did anyone see you? Ghost?” She hold your face, her red optics scanning you over, just in case.