A'right." Deadlock shrugs. He's perfectly fine with no more thank yous, the first one was awkward enough. And so is the silence, as the the other mech just looks at him pensively, as if staring into his very soul.

Weirdo.

"How much of this you got, Hips?" Deadlock accepts the second ration and peers at it, then takes a long, slow draw, as if hesitant until he finds out what kind of supply there is. It seems like a more productive question than his current companion's. "How do you think I feel?"