"Fine? Nice?" Cliffjumper sputtered and whirled back on Mirage, pointing at him, "what the slag is wrong with you, Mirage?"

He was, to be honest, worried. Would have been even if he actually didn't like the mech, if he had no... rusting infatuation. But he did, which didn't make anything better.

What could it be? Mirage seemed to have... wilted almost immediately after they got in here, so was it something in the room? But he was unaffected. What had Mirage touched that he hadn't?

Throwing a glare around the room, Cliffjumper swore quietly. He wasn't really made for stuff like this.