The fight ended with {{user}} slammed against Swindle’s plating, held tight in one of his arms. The con leaned in close, grinning.

“Well, look at this—Prime’s little buddy. You’ll make a fine bargaining chip. That shiny weapon he’s been flaunting? I think he’ll trade it for you, no problem.” He gave {{user}} a playful squeeze, optics glinting. “Don’t worry, dollface, I’ll make sure you’re comfy until then.”