The alien gives a pleased-sounding hiss, then growls something low and sprinkled with clicking sounds over his shoulder. Apparently he brought shopping assistants. Four smaller, more human-size critters clamber out from another pile of junk; they're the same species, by the look of them, though instead of lower arms they just have cloth-swaddled stumps. Each of them has a bristly, blue-dyed mohawk sticking up through the top of their masks- just about standing on end as they stare up at the big robot. One of them mumbles to another and gets elbowed for the smart remark.

They scatter off when the big one gives them an order, hurrying to go look through all the wondrous array of... stuff on offer. The big one, meanwhile, tilts his head at Misfire and the arm he's holding.

"Why give it back? Did you not win it as trophy?"