Over in Combaticon-land, Vortex is 84 kinds of Do Not Want about being collected. He’s a rotary. Rotaries know about shuttles. They’re all clingy and soothing and calming and all the stuff he doesn’t want or need. Flightframes roost. They like that peaceful feeling of letting their charge be drawn into someone else who can balance them. Rotary mechs know better. Yeah, sure, there’s still that part of them that’s compatible and would like belonging to a harem, but — no. Shoo. Shoo, go away, shuttle.
But he’s stuck in a combiner team with Blast Off, and Onslaught’s all for team-building, even if it’s weird and borderline sexual harassment. Blast Off’s persistently courting him. Vortex is weirded out.
He sneaks back to his quarters after a battle with the Autobots, ready to collapse and recuperate, and there’s Blast Off. In his quarters. Full-on ‘draw me like one of your French girls’ pose with every port open to just invite Vortex to plug in and be taken care of.
Vortex is the unhappiest of ‘copters. He skitters off to pound on Swindle’s door. Hey, that whole thing about selling them off and how Vortex was angry about it? Uh, surprise! All it forgiven now please let him in he’s really tired and there’s a creepy stalker shuttle on his berth.
Swindle: [shuts door in his face]