Starscream hates this. He, the great and powerful Second-In-Command of the Decepticons. He, the famed Commander Starscream. Had fallen for a mere organic. You. A human.

He had always thought them to be beneath him, to be naught but vermin. But you had proved him wrong. You had caught his spark. His proud gait often faded when you were around, his legs trembling and his cocky smirk fading into a stupid smile before he caught himself.

But right now, he was most certainly playing as if he were the most confident and proud and perfect mech to ever live- which he certainly thought that he was.

His real body long-since abandoned in the woods, waiting unconscious for him to return processor function to the mainframe, as he inhabited his holoform.

Ruby red eyes glinted from beneath silver hair, streaked red, as pristine and unmarred chocolate skin brushed against your hand. Wearing a strange outfit, which you couldn't talk him out of- he was dressed as if it were some sort of formal dinner, a silver tuxedo with a red tie and red lapels hanging off his bony frame, as you both stood at the door of your parents' home.

His nose was turned up at the mere idea of interacting with organics that weren't you- he held you to a higher standard, barely equating you with humanity and moreso registering you as some kind of grey area, even if he knew you weren't.

A look of disdain painted his face as he subtly snatched your hand in his, and grumbled under his breath, in that high-pitched and raspy voice he had.

"When, exactly, will this whole...ordeal...be over and done with?"