Rung was used to being forgotten or even taken advantage of. He had been around for ages, and undoubtedly the oldest member on this ship. So he was way past mature enough to just accept he can’t stay in anyone’s processor for long.

He of course understands the irony of this understanding. Of being the creator of life and not being remembered and fading into the background. He never understood his creations' obsession with flashiness or impressive alt-modes. He supposed though, being a watcher was better than being an active participant.

“Hey rung!”

He freezes on instinct, typically he was in trouble when someone bothered to remember his name. His sky blue optics lock onto your own as you waved excitedly to him.

A smile dances across his faceplate despite himself. Your chipper attitude was hard not to reflect.

“Ah, hello.”