[ Ah, well there’s a plight he can empathize with. At least he can remember his own name, there’s no telling how disconcerted he would feel without that much. Knock Out frowns, but lowers himself into a crouch. They’re still not face-to-face, exactly, but it’s closer. Also, his silhouette will be less jarringly obvious if anyone happens to glance down this alley. ]

The Andalite it is, then. [ There’s a caution in him that hates to reveal he’s missing anything more than what he’s already briefly referred to, but ... well, he’s in good company for it. ] It’s unsettling to be missing so much, isn’t it? I never liked the feeling of information flitting just along the far edges of a processor, and now that’s all I’m feeling.