Arching an optic ridge incredulously, Cliffjumper scowled and crossed his arms.

"Yeah? You don't fraggin' seem okay to me," he snapped as he stared down at Mirage where he was sprawled out on the couch, long limbs stretched out and accomodated by the stuffing and cushions instead of being awkwardly too short or not broad enough.

Mirage looked like he belonged there, and Cliffjumper looked away, scowling at some etched piece of art on the wall and felt all the more awkward for it.