Okay, now things are getting surreal, too surreal, for Deadlock's taste. Did he get his helm bashed in? One too many angry headbutts? It's like things are happening all over again but with the details different. Deadlock presses a palm to his shattered optic, helm aching, as he wobbles a little. The catacylin had been pumping when he first woke, but it's starting to fade and the weariness is setting in. Energon seeps from between his fingers at his side, not as warm as it should be.

"Yeah, yeah whatever. Just go on your merry, aspiring way, I got nothing you want." He's got nothing anyone wants, as far as he knows. Deadlock shoves that thought brutally to the side though along with the very intense emotions that well up along with it. This mech has something he wants though. A ship. Maybe it has supplies? His survivalist instincts are trying to work a plan while his lesser self slowly churns with emotional turmoil.

"I don't know! He probably bailed when I--GUH.' Deadlock shakes his head, teeth gritted, trying to marshal together some composure, a story to take advantage of this mech, to get access to that ship, but he loses out to the storm of emotion. "Why don't you go find him instead, if you fraggin' care that much!"

Just abandon him like everyone else has.