[Whirl notices where a screw is loose, and actually changes out tools to fix it, using one smaller pincer to pick up the new tool while the other sets down the first. It would bother him if he left it like that. The entire point of his claw rotates in its well as he tightens the screw in place. He is actually listening, as much as it looks like he isn't. If anything, listening is why he's actually doing something, anything to appear uninterested.]

War's over where I'm from, too. It doesn't mean scrap. There are always people fighting, and there's always people making things worse. It's just the way it is. Universe is ugly, Bee. It just is. The sooner you learn that, sooner you can recharge.

[He's somehow unsurprised that the scraplet hadn't offlined anything before now. He's known mechs who onlined with more of a sense of the way things worked than this brat. Ugh. Where is literally anyone else to deal with this. Riptide's all mushy. Can't he take care of this? He vents, dramatically, and then points at Bee with a screwdriver that is ridiculously small compared to Whirl himself. It's no wonder he has to use the smaller claws to even try to hold it.]

Look. They were shooting at you, right? They wouldn't have stopped until everyone on this slagheap was grey or dead or so fulla holes nothing would've done a thing. T'me, it's an easy answer, there.