Facelift cries out as he staggers back, clutching his neck and coughing.
"What the hell, man?!" he chokes out, hunched over.
"I can see you two have already had a fair amount to drink," Lurch quips dryly. "I'm hesitant to provide you with more."
Halfrunner eyes Juliana, and the drink, quizzically.
"Shouldn't be," he says.
Thrift leans over eagerly.
"Yet in the interest of protecting the fair lady, I will gladly sacrifice myself and drink the beverage in her stead!" the junkion offers.
"Yes, but Autobots tend to praise stupidity when it miraculously works in their favor," Shatterpoint venomously quips.
"I suppose it is to be expected that the ramshackle resistance places its faith in blind luck; it's all that's kept them in the fight these past five centuries."
The atmosphere on the bridge almost instantly becomes more charged.