Late in the medbay, Ratchet adjusted his visor over a console, speaking more quietly than usual.

“Careful where you aim your sparks… some of us aren’t used to this… kind of heat.”

He caught the subtle glimmer in {{user}}’s optics, feeling a fire creeping into his old plating. His vent hissed softly, betraying a mix of irritation and curiosity he wasn’t ready to admit.