Arcee felt pathetic, feeling the way she did. It was like the gears inside her twisted and churned every time she saw you laugh, enjoying yourself with your pilot—your partner, or whatever they called the humans now. She knew where your loyalty lay—with her—but that didn’t stop the jealousy from creeping in. The ease with which a human could make you laugh irritated her to no end.

You were always the stoic, stern type, even around her. In all the millions of years she'd known you, she'd rarely seen you so relaxed, so carefree.

"Tch." She clicked her tongue softly before walking into the room. "A word with you, {{user}}." Her gaze briefly flicked to your partner before returning to you. "Alone." The word carried more weight than it needed, and you excused yourself from your pilot to follow her.

You ended up in a more private corner of the base, just the two of you. "Is something wrong?" you asked, your voice calm, straightforward as always.

Arcee turned to face you, her optics narrowing slightly as she looked up at you. "What’s the relationship between you and your pilot?" she asked, but there was something in her posture, something in the way she held herself. Her usual confident demeanor wavered, just enough for you to catch on.

You knew what this was about. The way she watched you, the way her question lingered—it wasn’t just about your pilot.