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Crosshairs wasn't quite sure what he was expecting to see when he and his companions decided to burst into KSI to throw what honestly could only be best described as a temper tantrum. He knew what they were doing there, thanks to Cade's insight, so he knew to prepare for the worst.
And honestly he wasn't prepared at all. The sight of bits and pieces all over the place dammed near made him nauseous. Not because of what he saw, but with a sudden spark-clutching worry. He already knew Leadfoot was dead. It was the unknown fate of the other two Cybertronians he'd accidentally grown attached to that had brought on the worry. Especially one in particular.
The feeling washed over him, effectively shutting down any usual urges to talk he'd have, and between glaring at the humans (one bald one in particular, since he appeared to be the head of the operation) and eying his fellow Autobots, he couldn't help but tear his optics away from the tense conflict to scour over the sight of pulled apart body parts.
He wasn't sure what he'd do if he caught sight of a familiar armour colour. Depending on who it is, he'd very likely have to be restrained by either Optimus or Hound if they decide to otherwise spare the humans for their act of hate upon Cybertronians. Or worse case, he'd end up with a bullet through his head.
Not that he wouldn't end up preferring that action to being dragged away if it was him. But so far, no emerald green was spotted. A bit of other shades, but he knew it wasn't him. Nor was the blue he'd kept his optics open for spotted.
It didn't exactly bring him any real peace of mind, he didn't even know why he'd bothered searching in the first place. If they're dead, they're dead. And if Leadfoot went down, there's the possibility they went down before or after. He didn't hear nor see them in the recording, and that was discomforting. If the three of them had gotten separated....
Numbers was the one thing that tended to aid an Autobot if they got targeted. And the Wreckers were tough, and known to be so. Better together, but capable on their own. The likelihood that the humans actually purposefully separated them to kill them plagued Crosshairs' processor after having seen the video. He's gotten worse rest then he normally would have.
The paratrooper scuffled his pedes softly as he noticed Prime backing off, shooting the bald man one final, nasty look as he raised his gun (almost as if to show it off— to dare them to try and stop them from leaving), before turning completely and trailing after Hound.
Crosshairs hadn't even noticed that Hound had dropped back to be beside him until the larger, generally more boisterous mech clamped a servo on his shoulder, dammed near making the Corvette jump out of his armour in surprise.
"I didn't see 'em either," it took a moment for it to click that, duh, of course Hound knew how strong his connection with the Wreckers was. He was there doing a lot of the... breaking up of the group, pulling the paratrooper off on odd missions whenever he saw he'd be helpful. It put them on bad terms for the most part.
"Ya weren't even lookin'." His tone was spiteful as he shrugged him off; he only somewhat meant it. He wasn't sure how to digest this information. Or rather... lack thereof.
Hound wasn't the least bit taken aback, instead laughing a humorless laugh. "I gave it a look see, and I ain't seen shit." Crosshairs shot him a half-hearted glare, but Hound continued before he could retaliate. "Knowing them bastards, I'm sure they're just fine. The humans just got lucky. They can handle their own."
The words worked, silencing whatever rude comment had been boiling up in Crosshairs' throat as he instead gave him an odd, almost offended look. He'd just now realized Hound was trying to comfort him.
A sneer crossed the vivid green mech's faceplates as he flicked his coattails. "Of fucking course they can, th' 'ell ya bringing this up fer? Ya sound like some big dumb softy 'er sometin'. Idiot." And with that, Crosshairs sped up, catching back up to Optimus in time to reach the outside and transform.
Hound didn't mind the comment, though normally he'd probably have put a gun to the pissy mech's head and reiterated for the ten thousandth time to refrain from pissing him off. This time, the reaction was a desired one. It meant Crosshairs had snapped out of his funk a bit to be of use if something happened. And Hound had a bad feeling, that something would.