Digits twitched and flexed, curling out from a fist before going lax at his side. There was a soft hiss of air coming from his vents as he relaxed his stance, standing up at his full height, and shaking out his arms. There had only been two assassins sent to take out Scarred, and lucky for the medic Smokescreen has been around to help fend them off. Not that the former ‘Con wasn’t capable of defending himself. Fighting as a team just had its merits after all.
Ignoring the constant stinging from blaster shots, and the twinge of pain on his lower back, the Praxian turn to face the red medic, optics traveling over his frame in search of severe injuries. “Looks like we showed ‘em. I gotta say, we make a pretty good team. Next time— if there is a next time they will think twice before coming after you,” he paused, now curious of what even provoked the two mechs to attack. “Those guys meant business what did you even do to get on their bad side? I thought you were looking to change for the better?”