The training hall was almost empty.

The light from the panels reflected off the metal, and the scent of energy from recent sparring still hung in the air.

Optimus stood at the edge of the platform, his weapon removed, his palms resting on the railing. His posture was relaxed—too relaxed for someone who had just watched you train.

You approached, slowly, deliberately making loud footsteps on the floor.

"You know," — he said calmly, without turning around, — "you moved... differently today."

You stopped behind him.

Too close. So close he sensed it.

"Different—how?" — you asked with a slight smile.

He turned his head, his optics gliding over you—attentive, warm, but deep down... tense.

"Confident," — he replied.

"Bold."

"Almost defiantly."

You took another step. Now you were at his side, leaning your shoulder against the railing next to him, leaning so he could hear your voice all too well.

"Almost?" — you asked quietly.

"Mm... so it could be better."

You turned to face him. Something bold, lively played in your optics—not aggression, but provocation.

"Bark like you want it."

The phrase hung in the air.

Optimus didn't answer right away. He didn't back down. He didn't frown.

He simply straightened slowly, standing taller—not threateningly, but deliberately—and looked down at you.

"You understand," — he said evenly, but a low vibration crept into his voice, — "that sometimes you say things... that test my composure."

He leaned closer, just enough to leave just a little space between you.

"And," — he added more quietly, — "you enjoy watching me maintain it too much."

A soft, barely perceptible smile flickered in his optics.

"Be careful," — he said.

"Or one day I'll answer exactly as you ask."