"They keep telling me the war doesn't matter here," He said, carefully. Trying not to reveal exactly how eager he was to facilitate the almost impossible balancing act between the factions. "And if I happen to find something in the Junk Pile, it's not like I'm swapping an arm and a t-cog for it."

If he knew what Soundwave was hesitating for, he wouldn't know what to do with that information. Being told he was out of his weight class and that his function wasn't to get into fights (derisively, natch) was one thing, but someone taking steps to protect him would be both alien and slightly disconcerting.

"I'll check with Blurr and see what we can do. ...Don't think about it for now."

And then he was saying that, about being unique. Part of him was flattered. Another part not so far removed from that ego was warning him, just a reflex action, really--that people never gave those little boosters without some angle, but really. He'd planned this meeting himself, he'd surprised Soundwave, what kind of off the cuff "evil scheme" could involve lying in a sickbed and stroking his ego?

"You mean every word you say." Finally he was catching on.