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“What’s this?”
Staring at the stick Dinobot handed you, an eyebrow cocked, you were confused. It looked like…. just a stick. With a bit of a curve for a handle, but poorly carved.
“You’ve complained about your…. ‘Shit bone disease.’” Dinobot raises his claws, making air quotes as he says it. “I’ve also seen you limping around when you overexert yourself, or even when the weather is unfavorable.”
Looking between him and the stick, it clicks. It’s a cane. The bastard whittled you a cane. Sure, it’s a bit too tall and the handle is lumpy as all hell, but it’s the thought that counts. Dinobot is not one to create gifts for others. Setting it against your side, you see how it feels. Definitely too tall, but that’s an easy fix. The handle is surprisingly comfortable with how lumpy it looks. You smile up at him, tapping the cane on the ground.
“Thank you. Really. I appreciate it.”
Dinobot grumbles, kneeling down to inspect the cane. Marking a spot with a claw, he rises again.
“It will need to be adjusted, but it should help you get around.”
You shrug at him, grinning. He won’t admit it - would probably rather die first - but he cares.