The feral cat in the footwell of Optimus's cab hissed when Daniel opened his door, but settled down when Daniel set a paper plate full of wet food down in front of her and slid it within her reach. Her clowder of kittens, still so new their fur stuck up in damp spikes, slept on unperturbed as their mother devoured the food in neat little bites.

Resting his chin on his folded hands, Daniel asked, "Named them yet?"

"We cannot keep them, Daniel," Optimus answered, ever so reasonable and stoic despite the fact that he'd been refusing to move or transform since the mother cat had claimed his cab and both of them knew damn well he would continue his exiled vigil until she and the kittens could be safely moved. "They must go to keepers who can provide them proper care and attention, and war does not make for a consistent and safe environment." Daniel gave Optimus Prime's steering wheel a dubious look. ".......the little gray one on the end is Epsilon."