[ he stares down, awkwardly, at the gesture of comfort. Despite being made of metal, Cybertronians were still living things, and his armor plating will be surprisingly warm there under her hand. Kept that way by all the energetic processes beneath.

The cynical part of him says that this is simply the expected response to first hearing of such a thing - either recoil in horror at the scale of the violence, or feel quite sorry for them. He is not sure which response he dislikes more. ]

A peace on tenterhooks, as one would expect. The mess is at least relatively contained to our own planet, nowadays.