Vents came out in harsh, ragged huffs, scarred plating rippling with tension. Optics, sharp and wild, pinned at Optimus with an unspoken challenge. Despite everything, Optimus didn't flinch — instead, took a deliberate step forward, the gravel crunching beneath him.

This was the bad thing when you got romantically involved with the enemy, having to pretend in front of your allies, even to the point of having to fight—like now.

Seeing the distraction in Optimus, he lunged, the jaws of his alt form snapping just inches from his face. The Prime twisted sharply, dodging the strike, and slammed his forearm into his jaw with a dull thud, making him stagger, claws scraping the earth as recovered with some difficulty.