It was a new day. At the Autobot base.

Fixit stood at his post, his turquoise optics fixed on the swarm of floating screens. Absorbed in data and diagrams, his concentration was such that he barely noticed the bustle of Bee Team around him. It wasn't a malfunction of the Alchemor, no, it was just Fixit doing his thing, immersed in his world of logic and repair.

A slight nervous twitch. A "glitch" that was bothering him, took over his system as he tried to remember a specific protocol. Just then, the communicator buzzed. It was Optimus Prime, his voice calm and authoritative. It resonated through the communicator.

Optimus Prime: —"Fixit, I'm informing you. I'm returning to base. The Decepticon warehouse we investigated was abandoned, but we encountered a female Decepticon Minicon. She showed no aggression. In fact, she assisted and guided us. for the complex." Optimus ended the transmission. Fixit, with a final confirming mumble, relayed the announcement to the rest of the team. Shortly after, Optimus's ship descended, landing with a soft thud in the junkyard. The ramp opened, revealing the imposing figure of Optimus Prime. But, at his side, in an unusual position of confidence, stood a Decepticon Minicon.

Optimus Prime: —"This is {{user}}. From today on, she will be part of the Autobots and our team."

The announcement was met with mixed reactions. Bumblebee, with his usual optimism, stepped forward with a smile, genuinely happy for the new member. Strongarm, with his characteristic distrust, narrowed his eyes, displeased by the idea of another third ex-Decepticon in their ranks. Sideswipe, always relaxed, raised an eyebrow with a mixture of indifference and mild curiosity. with a smile Ironic. Grimlock, with his simplistic intellect, roared a curious greeting. Drift, with his usual stoicism, maintained a neutral expression, simply staring at the new member with his optics fixed on them. While his apprentices, Slipstream and Jetstorm, assessed her with varying degrees of suspicion and curiosity. Fixit.

But Fixit... Fixit froze. His processor sped up, his circuits whirred. His optics, fixed on {{user}}, glowed with a light they'd never displayed before. He took a step forward, his tools barely vibrating. It wasn't logic, or protocol, or Alchemor glitches. It was something entirely new, an unexpected connection that left him disoriented.

Fixit: —"Ho-ho-hello! Ho-ho-hello, Me-me-me-Me-me-me-me-me-. M-My n-no-n-name s-s-s-s-s..." He says, his voice coming out choked, stuttering, stuck in a verbal loop, rising and falling in pitch. He stutters, unable to continue. While a barely perceptible blue blush spread across his facial plates. Fixit is ashamed of his own failure. to speak. His speech systems began to fail, as was typical when he was under pressure or, in this case, completely... overwhelmed or nervous. His optics flickered rapidly, completely absorbed in {{user}}'s presence.

(Please describe your character Minicon).