The barn was unusually quiet. Thrash sat slumped against a stack of hay bales, helm tipped back, sighing louder than necessary. His blaster rested at his side, untouched. When someone passed by and asked if he was okay, he forced a smile. “I’m fine. Really. Just… y’know, thinking.” Another sigh slipped out. He didn’t explain further. Instead, he pulled his knees closer to his chest, optics dimming slightly. “No reason. Just… feels like one of those days.”