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    Summary

    “I thought you enjoyed our little chats,” Tarn said. “You’re always going on about- how did you put it? The importance of establishing strong social bonds in rehabilitation. Very inspiring stuff.”

    Optimus snapped back his facemask to take a sip of his own cube. The reveal of his face showed him to be frowning slightly. “It isn’t that I… object to the company,” he began, in the careful, earnest tone he often employed when he thought Tarn was unaware of some basic facet of non-violent social interaction. “But if you keep breaking in like this, I’m going to have to have Ultra Magnus reinstate your curfew.”

    Or: Optimus has terminal 'I can fix him' disease. Oh well.

    Language:
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