It would have rather silly at the time to remain in a large group while we were being hunted by the humans. |
You must understand... we never wanted to leave Ratchet nor any one else on their own. |
War is war. |
— -A frustrated vent of his fans. A groan of his frame as the scout’s helm snaps around to look across at the shadowed figure. Within his round features it is very obvious that the youngling wants to be angry, upset with the poisoned words being thrown at him.
A rise of his yellow armour, radio static blaring hotly as wires tremble far below his exterior. The subject of his role as Guardian had become a rather touchy thing. The topic in general with their past regarding various humans was even rarely talked about.
When it was however brought to the surface the wound became fresh once more. The scout had tried so hard— -
“None.” Bumblebee’s tight voice snaps. His frame slowly begins to step away, radio hissing off at the figure. "I will not loose any of them.”
— -[ ……. ]
— -Those cries for mercy are barely audible by the Autobot. Off behind that sharp battle mask of his, Bumblebee’s vision is transfixed on the Drone. Hot air from his pumping engine escapes out through cracks in his frame.
His plasma canon’s hums ripples out in the dead air. There is no implication of the scout lowering his weapon.
…But there is a slow in his step, a moment for the enemy to give Bee maybe one good reason not to do so.
— -Other than perhaps the excruciating heat, the scout is doing just fine. He rolls over onto his tanks, orbs watching the weapons specialist. Bee almost looks sleepy in the heat, processor fried.
Bee comes back to humans asking about interface again.