deceitfulcharmer.
⚔—;; The warlord could have laughed, had he not been so disgusted by what he had been indirectly accused of. He had done a great many things during the war and after it, manipulated a great many into doing what he wanted, but he had never altered the mind of another. There were lines even he wouldn’t cross, no matter what the enemy thought of him.
“They are far more likely to stoop to such levels than the Decepticons,” came his growled response, optics narrowed. What the medic said afterwards, though, he couldn’t deny having done himself. “For now, Ratchet, I am happy to see you return unscathed. They will pay for their insolence once we begin our assault on Cybertron.”
Ratchet saw the way Megatron tensed, those optics narrowing, darkening, and softened. Small, scarred fingers reached forwards, resting gently upon his leader’s arm. He wished he could say something to comfort him, but the words wouldn’t come. He knew. He knew that Megatron would never have, especially given the Decepticon’s origins.
“It doesn’t matter now, anyways,” he settled on instead. Blue optics softened, and, in the privacy they rarely shared, leaned against the other. His touch was feather light, able to be pulled away should they be interrupted, but it was THERE. Sometimes that was all that mattered. “How have you and the others been fairing? Is there anything I should know?”
