[The heels of his palms dig into his tubing, and no matter how much he hates himself for not listening, for not taking anything seriously, he's never been fond of pain. Even if he thinks he deserves it. He uncurls slowly and pulls his hands from his face, clenching them into fists in his lap. His brain module is working a mile a minute thinking up something to say, something he can't say. Instead he tries to trace it onto Magnus' plating, but it's too much and too fast and he gives up.
Swerve settles for tracing 'you did what you had to', followed by 'what about the others'. He wants to trace something consoling. Something that will make this alright, but he doesn't have anything that would cut it. He wouldn't even believe his own words if he did.]
no subject
Swerve settles for tracing 'you did what you had to', followed by 'what about the others'. He wants to trace something consoling. Something that will make this alright, but he doesn't have anything that would cut it. He wouldn't even believe his own words if he did.]