He let his helm be steered back, though his optics took a few more moments to look up from the floor. This- whiplash, for lack of a better word, his spark shifting from anxious to calm to want and now back to anxious if for an entirely different reason- had led to an imperceptible trembling in his hands, and an uncertain glow to his optics.

"I..."

What could he say? What could he possibly say?

"This isn't- this isn't just because you've helped me, I swear it, this isn't for that I'm thankful for everything but it's-it's..."

More. It was more.

Don't think I'm weak for it, his optics begged. He couldn't take it if he'd put the thought in Rung's processor.