Elegy has realized she can pick him up.

Like a soft stuffed toy.

“Sweetie,” he tries to coax, currently being half-smothered. “Put me down, please?”

“No! I’m helpin’.”

There's a... a little bit of confusion as Rung...

...Well, he loses about half a meter in height.

Maybe a little more than that, but he's not really counting. Mostly he's left blinking at his reflection in his tea cup-- somehow his oculars seem even larger than usual.

"I apologize, but, er, 'that guy'?"

“I suppose that depends on how you look at things.”

With his chin in his servo, Rung hums but favors the Sweep with a sleepy grin. “In other words, most everymech’s already so much taller than I am that my own height is considered small to begin with. I used to be more of an average build size, but with the way everything progressed…”

It's like he had a sixth sense about these things. Soundwave peered into the room—a simple check-up was all—scanning the area before his optics fell on the little, orange minicon. His helm tilted, studying him before straightening up as he stepped into the room.

It was clearly Rung, albeit shorter and—His grip on his datapad tightened, subspacing it quickly as he knelt on the ground beside him.

"Rung."

{ @origin-protocol }

He’d managed to climb up onto the sofa all by himself, which was an achievement when he usually had to sort of jump up onto it normally. It was, as most of the furnishing in the dormitory were, meant for larger mecha with tolerances up to withstanding both Optimus and Megatron sitting on it at the same time.

It hadn’t been the most dignified process. But Rung had managed, and now he’s sat with his legs straight out in front of himself so he can balance his game pad on his knee protectors and play solitaire— or not.

Rung purses his lips. “I don’t- I don’t know what that is.”

It must be an Earth thing. Something doable, or gainable; object or animal? He’s heard of a hare, before. Maybe it’s a subspecies of hare.

Either way, he’s shuffling over so he can hug Jack around the waist only to discover his arms don’t quite reach all the way around him now.

Springer is staring intensely. Twitching slightly as he clears his vox," ...Uh. You uh. Need any help there Rung?"

“Of the psychological sort, most likely,” he jokes, but he keeps having to push his oculars back up on his face; they’re not actually inherent to his frame and thus did not shrink with him, so the magclips on the sides don’t fit.