He onlined his optics only for the ability to resume his glare at Megatron. The compliment felt like anything but.

If it was supposed to be reassurance...well.

He was bound, gagged, helpless, and fragged off. Commenting on his ability to look pretty while all of those things was not going to help, consort coding be-damned.

...The vibrations against his panel were another matter altogether. It certainly didn't help, but his helm rocked back, locked-open jaw clenching involuntarily as he let out a silent moan.

Frag you. So very much.

His legs twitched harder, spasms worsening as his control began to fracture.