He's not precious, he is a fierce, angry truck-librarian.

Orion huffed, arms tightening across his growling chest.

"I know that. Logically, I'm perfectly aware of it."

He didn't look away, but something inside him was soothed when Megatron looked away first. Which was also foolish, but nothing about the situation was logical.

"But I don't like what they did. And I am so very, selfishly glad that they are gone."

He reached across the table, palm up, silently asking for Megatron's hand - and the reassurance of touching him.