How Confusing

   Autocorrect never liked Osprey and his visits.  Granted, he was not the worst and not the best to deal with. He was not  so notable at all, Autocorrect thought, or at least he should not have  been on paper. By all accounts, there were only a handful of reasons he  stood out. 

    One, that he was one of the few bots  allowed to go off and do his own missions. Autocorrect was still not  certain why, as he did not strike him as terribly capable or powerful--  certainly not on the level of Menticide, by his analysis. 

    Two,  he was aesthetically interesting. Autocorrect hesitated to describe his  appeal as “pleasing,” because it was far from symmetrical and  organized. However, it may have been for those reasons Autocorrect found  him so very interesting in appearance. He was not sure. It still  perplexed him to this day. 

    Three, he and Autocorrect always managed to end up interacting in some way or another when he returned to the Dreadnought.  That was, of course, why he was always confronted with this information  whenever Osprey returned from a mission. He would always manage to  contrive some method of being in Autocorrect’s way whenever he returned,  and it was terribly inefficient for both of them. 

    They  would meet in some mundane location like a hallway and Autocorrect  would note at the downturn of the other mech’s lips, and how the little  cracks webbing delicately out from under his visor would twist in such a  way to suggest he was glaring. Autocorrect would never understand this,  because it would always occur before they had even interacted. So he  would stare.

    “What?” Osprey would snap, shoulders hiking up. Autocorrect would not have a response, because the thought is incomplete. What what? What’s up was a common phrase he heard, but it was often an expression of  familiarity, and the fact that Osprey seemed angry would probably  contradict the concept, he thought. Especially given they were not  familiar. What do you want, perhaps? What is your purpose? Autocorrect would stop and stare, because he would have no idea how to respond. 

    “Hey. I’m talking to you.” Osprey’s expression sours. “What’s so funny, huh? Something wrong with my face?”

    Hm, what’s so funny? That would be perplexing, because Autocorrect does not recall acting amused. 

    “Is,” Autocorrect says, instead. “‘Is something wrong with my face.’ Otherwise it is an incomplet--”

    “Primus, you’re insufferable.” 

    “I am Autocorrect.”

    Osprey would snort, though not appearing amused as one might expect. He shakes his head and sneers. 

    “You’re ridiculous, is what you are. Now stop standing around staring at me. It’s weird.” He crosses his arms.

    Autocorrect tilts his head. Ah, they are exchanging analyses?

    “You are interesting.” 

    “Huh?”

    “That is to say, in an aesthetic sense, specifically.”

    “W-what?”  Osprey suddenly seems taken aback, which confuses Autocorrect, because  he’s quite sure he followed the social expectation. Did he  misunderstand, again? “I’m aesthet-- are you calling me pretty?!”

    “No, I am saying you are interesting.”

    “Wh-- what-- okay, why?”

    Autocorrect furrows his brow slightly, because now he is sure he must have misunderstood something again.

    “It is my observation.”

    Osprey  scowls and ducks his head and snaps “I’m busy!” before making a hasty  retreat. Autocorrect would be left feeling quite confused about the  entire interaction. Granted, that is not so uncommon, for Autoorrect.

    So  Autocorrect never liked Osprey and his visits. He always acted so  strangely, and left Autocorrect feeling more confused than ever whenever  they ran into each other. They always did meet, every time he  returned.