The little touches are...oddly soothing. Tarantulas lived alone for so long, but at spark he's still Cybertronian. He too is a social creature. He begins to slowly return the touches, shyly patting her flanks and abdomen.

"Would it surprise you to know I feel the same way? Organics live such short lives...but at times it seems like such a blessing in disguise. Take humans, for instance...a hundred years at most, and then they're done. It's hard not to see their suffering as lesser somehow, when a broken heart will be snuffed out so soon. And then too, they have such an amazing capacity for recovery! I envy that of them."

He turns to press his face into her side, pedipalps twitching in agitation. "When I took on this form, I hoped I might also acquire some of that vivacity for myself. That I might finally find...something new to live for. Instead of always remaining stuck in the past. But..." He laughs bitterly. "It wasn't so after all."