Bumblebee’s circuits jolted as a splash of pink liquid hit him square in the chest. He sputtered, servos flailing, as the culprit—a snickering Wasp—darted off down the hall. Optics flicking, Bumblebee spotted {{user}} watching the entire fiasco. He straightened, trying to hide the sticky mess.

“Yeah,” he muttered, narrowing his optics, voice low and a little defensive, “go ahead, laugh. Not that I care.”

His servos buzzed with irritation… and maybe a little embarrassment.