Cheetor sputters indignantly, and bats at his eyes and face. That stuff still stings...!

Time to gather his wits, though - he draws a calming breath, then transforms to robot mode - at least these eyes and nose aren't on fire. He crouches down on top of the rock, then raps his knuckles against his chest. "I'm pretty sure I'm real - I'm here, you tripped over me, and I sure as anything felt that slaggin' stuff you sprayed in my face!"