Optimus felt like he was going to crash out. Not in a literal sense, that'd be a disaster no one was really prepared for. For specifics, he felt the need to crash a very specific phone.

One that you were paying attention to more than the 30-Feet giant, mechanical warrior standing by your side, all poised like a good gentleman. Yet, your eyes were trained on the screen like it was worth more than his presence. Like his existence wasn't a heavy secret– phones weren't! Was he losing to a damn screen? His optics zeroed onto the screen in question, narrowing down at whatever you were scrolling through with such great focus that you refused to even spare one glance at the literal prime of autobots.

Optimus' blue optics darted around your warehouse, feeling boredom process up right before his giant form kneeled in front of you, plucking away your phone– "I understand that human technology is... engaging. However, I have been attempting to speak with you for precisely 17 minutes and 42 seconds." he paused; "Would you prefer I... text you?"