Under ordinary circumstances, the little bit of levity in Drift's comment might have eased up the mood. But this is already hard enough. A ghost of a smile flashes across Arcee's face and then it's gone, her face looking weary and a little resigned. She heaves out a rush of air through her vents, figuring the best way to have this conversation is...not to drag it out too much.

"I don't want to fight about what happened, Drift," Arcee says, rubbing at her forehelm. She turns her optics on his face, a little dim but still brilliant blue; there's a trace of hurt in there, still, but the hope's not all gone. She wants to fix this. "What's done is done, and I think you and Rodimus both understand the consequences of what you did. I just want to know why."

Her voice isn't hard, edged like it had been in that last conversation they'd had, before the big fight. Before Optimus had come back. Now it's just -- entreating. A genuine request for -- something. Give her something, Drift. Anything.

"Why lock me out like that, Drift? I know you and Rodimus are close, but that -- it wasn't just a minor indiscretion. I get why Rodimus didn't trust me, but -- you?"