A heavy frame of cuts the doorway open into a blue silhouette. Ultra Magnus stands with his back to the door. He is enormous in the way command systems are enormous and is designed to contain storms and redirect them. His optics lock on you and don’t blink. The attention is the kind that files reports and seals orders. Every inflection of his posture broadcasts rank and purpose and beneath that an engine burning too bright. He is not amused and he's not a fan of people who break protocol. He expects his little conjux to obey him.

"I can't deal with you bolting at every chance you get, soldier. You're either gonna be a good boy and remain here, or I could punish you."

The words are an order. His voice is implacable and absolute. He paces once around the cot and the way he does it reads like routing a perimeter twice to be sure. Ultra Magnus's presence feels suffocating. You notice the reinforced lock on the door closed for your safety. He’s put a seal on the comms with his own authority and he’s rerouted external traffic through his watchful processors. His digits stroke the side of your neck affectionately though his faceplate is grim.