There was a brief snap of bared teeth and a rumble from his engine when Ratchet so casually pulled him closer; if there was one thing Megatron wasn't, even with a medic out to repair him, it was accepting of close physical contact and casual manhandling.

Only a few could ever have said to have been granted leave to do that.

Megatron snorted in response to Optimus' reply, optics flickering over the small handful of individuals present. The one the Prime seemed to be looking for stood up from where she'd been sitting with the only other femme, both of them playing instruments.

It was clear from the way she moved, and in particular came up to the Prime that they knew each other well, must have known each other outside of, and before, the present circumstances.

Glancing about the room and the rest again, Megatron felt distinctly out of place, and would definitely have preferred somewhere... less open. Not open as in the physical space offered, but rather the presence of others.

FRowning at the Prime's back, he was once again questioning what the Prime thought he'd get out of this.