Knock Out is glad that Mizuki isn't going to preach decency and goodness at him, especially when he's tired and sore, lest his temperament fray into something uncharitable.

"Horrible..." Knock Out thinks of that slagpit of a battlefield he'd relived, as vividly as if he were experiencing it for the first time, all senses fully engaged in the recollection. The touch of slick energon coating his digits, the sharp ozone tang in the air of melted circuitry, the inescapable whine of sonic detonations that so briefly drown out the cries of the wounded...

("Hey, big guy.")

"It was what it was," he settles on noncommittally. "There were... worse things to go through a second time. What I saw was something that happened a long time ago, there's no point in dwelling on it."

Her request leaves him shuttering his optics for a few seconds, certain he'd misheard. (The way she's looking at him says he didn't.)

What was with this little organic?

Knock Out regards her with a deadpan expression for a long moment. "Why?"