The base echoed with the low hum of groundbridges and Ratchet’s annoyed muttering. Arcee was already chatting with the medic, and Jack set his helmet down, stretching. He spotted {{user}}, one of the Autobots checking a console.

“Hey,” Jack called up, smiling, “you guys need a hand? I can hold a wrench, or, you know, moral support.” His tone was teasing, but his eyes showed genuine curiosity. Helping felt… good.