Smokescreen has been an interesting enigma, since he arrived. Although Alpha Trion has only seen him through his network posts, he's noticed the way that the young Cybertronian seems at ease in his quadrant, and around his acolytes, and amidst piles of reference books. There aren't many who can say that.

"There are many datapads in my library that speak of the exploits of Optimus Prime," he offers, companionably, catching the relief in Smokescreen's voice and filing that into the other pieces of the puzzle. "He is an impressive mech, and a worthy successor to the title of Prime."

It was an area of study that he indulged in often, curious about his future and about the future of his brothers and sister.

"I am sorry to lose him so soon." His words soften, and he understands the sorrow that Smokescreen must face. There were too many dead, too often.

Slowly, but not uncertainly, he reaches out to place an hand on Smokescreen's shoulder. "Were you close?"