Disclaimer: I don't own a thing from here, and with my salary, there's no hope that I ever will.

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Second Round: Wreck-Gar! ... Oral communication Differences.

Wreck-Gar's POV:

I am Wreck-Gar! I am a hero! At least, that's what Ratchet says I am. I might be something else entirely, though. Everyone keeps calling me a Junkbot. That actually seems to fit better, actually, since I am indeed made of thrown out human debris and one AllSpark fragment that a lot of the visiting Cybertronians seem interested in.

They seem so disappointed when they find out that I can't show them the part of me that gives me a life-force, but the melded pieces of half a washing machine and an old wood stove that make up the metals of my chassis don't move like Ratchet, or the Autobots, or the Decepticons or even any other bot that don't come from this planet. And I'm a little grateful for that. It means little wind gets into my systems to make me feel naked.

Walking into the Earth Autobot's living area, I am pleased to find Bumblebee, Sari and those funny talking flying Autobot Elite kids playing another video game. This one has something to do with what I think Sari called HALO. I'm gonna watch.

Before I even take a seat on the chair that Ratchet usually occupies, the flyer with the blue paintjob turns from the game with his olfactory sensors in full use and gives a little shriek in the back of his throat at the sight of me. I'm not offended. Their big chinned boss with the cute wings on the sides of his head did the same thing the first time he saw me a few days ago. His vocal processors sound like that blonde pregnant lady I saw the first time I ran into Ratchet with the funny Green Man… Angry Archer, that's his name. Gotta remember that.

"Hello!" I greeted, sitting in the chair as now both of the flyers looked over at me while Bee and Sari took the opportunity to kick their skidplates in the game, "I am Wreck-Gar! Don't mind me, I just like watching. I won't take your turn."

"Hey, 'Gar," Sari greeted to be polite, like the nice girl she is even though she still doesn't look over at me as Jetfire got back into the game, mumbling some garbled Cybertronian that I still can't understand no matter how many times Ratchet and Prowl and Optimus try and teach me. I'm still learning English, so trying to understand even a little Cybertronian is impossible for me. The sounds are interesting, though.

The blue flyer is still looking at me. Usually they think it's rude to look directly at me for too long, but this kid might think of me as a threat. That could be bad. I'm not good at fighting and if he attacks me I'll be in such pain… I must lighten the mood.

Based off of what I'd seen Professor Sumdac, Sari and Captain Fanzone do a hundred times before, I stretch out my right arm and offer a friendly smile for Jetstorm, who flinches just the slightest at my actions and looks questioningly at my servo that is hovering near his own. I don't really know if he's supposed to look at it for this long…

"I am Wreck-Gar! It is nice to see you again!"

He's still looking at my servo, my fingers wiggling enticingly to provoke even a little response. It's obvious he doesn't know what to do as he looks up at my face and then over to Bumblebee, "What is he wanting me to do with his servo?"

Bumblebee doesn't say anything until he blows the head off of his opponent in the game, gives a small 'whoop' when the character goes down and then pauses the game to answer in less than ten seconds, "Take his servo in your right servo, shake it, say 'Hello', give him your name. It's polite in Earth cultures." And the game was back on, Sari giving her own little 'yay' as her character shoots a rival sniper.

Jetstorm turns back to my servo, still reaching out. Actually, I think it looks a little like one of those Sistine Chapel paintings Bulkhead tried to reproduce a while ago at this moment. Wait, not the point, I'm back.

The blue flyer holds out his own servo meekly, but doesn't touch mine. Giving as nice a smile as I can since the markings on my face always make it seem like I might be frowning, I gently grasp his servo myself and give it a light shake. When I let go, his head is tilted like one of those puppies I see in pet shop windows, but is giving his own tiny smile, "I'm Jetstorm. It is nice meeting you."