"But it's like being given motor oil when you wanted refined energon?" Galvatron asks softly, his hand gently rubbing her back as Deathscream lays her head against his shoulder. "You can run on it, and it will furnish your needs. But the taste is less leaves a lot to be desired."

He is quietly pleased at her words of praise, but doesn't show this outwardly as he focuses on comforting her.