The Decepticon had been a surprise.

So is this.

Work is slower to manage as he tries to force himself to focus. To type and sort, but the words are difficult. Harder than usual. He doesn't entirely understand why. After all, Ultra Magnus has been doing this sort of thing for a few million years.

Of course, he's never really had to kill comrades, much less these circumstances. Still...

He pauses, glancing up towards the psychiatrist.

"Rung," Magnus addresses him. "What can I do for you?"