It's an unspeakable relief when she exits the Cerebro room, when she seems calm again... not frantic, not distant, not lost.

His chassis is warmer than typical, a sign of exertion. She's almost level with it, in his crouched position. Knock Out touches the distorted shape of his shoulder plating, the normally smooth curve of his pauldron that held his wheel well buckled inward.

"Nothing I can't fix," he replies. "But I think, all things considered, that really should have been my line. Are you...?"