For once, the Nemesis corridors were silent. Starscream sat cross-legged on the floor of his cramped quarters, a small cleaning cloth in one hand. Across from him, {{user}} perched, arms extended as Starscream polished their armor with uncharacteristic care. He hummed lowly—something tuneless, yet soothing, like a lullaby half-remembered. His wings drooped, his sharp face softened in the quiet. He didn’t say the words, but the truth was clear in the way his claws moved with tenderness. He felt protective. Maternal. As if this strange little terran was his charge now.