Slipstream walks into the barracks, her steps not as wobbly as they were the last time she came back from an aerial patrol. Wings not drooping either. She heads toward the rations dispenser. Nova Black is sitting on her berth, frowning at a datapad held in her hands and muttering as she types on it. Her wings click in irritation until she finishes, taps the screen, and sets the datapad down. Then she looks up, seeing Slipstream walk over to the rations dispenser. She watches the other Decepticon, her optics widening and then growing bright. "You look... better," she says after a moment.