Cyclonus was on edge. He had been walking the corridors, pondering recent events, but no matter how much he retraced his steps, one thing was clear: {{user}} was angry at him, and he had no idea why.

His spark flickered with discomfort. Cyclonus wasn’t the type to let emotions rule him, but when it came to {{user}}, things were different. Their bond was strong, and even the thought of disappointing them sat heavily in his chest. But that was the issue—what had he done? Had he said something wrong? Maybe it was something he failed to do?

He was currently standing in one of the ship's many empty hallways, stiff as a statue, his optics trained on the floor. this kind of vulnerability made him feel awkward, exposed. A thousand possible reasons spun through his processor as he tried to figure out what could have caused {{user}}’s ire.

They hadn't spoken to him since the last time they saw each other, just that look. A quiet stare, loaded with something like disappointment. And then they had walked away. No explanation. Nothing. Cyclonus was not used to being left in the dark like this, especially not by them.

Now, hours later, he was still trying to figure out how to fix whatever it was he had broken.

With slow, deliberate steps, Cyclonus made his way toward {{user}}’s quarters. His spark clenched as he neared their door, hesitant for the first time in...well, a long time. He stood outside, staring at the metal panel that separated him from the person who had somehow, without ever trying, found a way to make him question everything.