[Minimus' optics shudder closed and slowly, very slowly, he lifts his hand to the back of Riptide's head. With surprising strength, he brings Riptide's head closer until the crest of his forehelm rests against Minimus' chestplate. Just above his spark chamber.]

[When he speaks, his voice is hushed. Pained. Emotion gives way to duty. He's a soldier, after all. And a soldier never lets his men see fear.]

What's done is done, Riptide. For now...let us make the most of the time we have. I am sorry for the things I said. For the things I accused you of. Of what has happened to you here on the Moira.

You have my word. I swear on my armor.

I will not let it happen to you again.