"Now, now." Tarn chides in his most patronizing tone. "Surely it's not worth getting so riled up over."

He knows he's walking a thin line. All Rodimus needs is that last little nudge. He gently places his glass down on the counter, turning to face the fuming Autobot.

"After all, I'm sure Drift wouldn't mind a little chat between friends."

To apologize, of course. Tarn's emphasis on his little party trick and murderous glint in his optic are surely nothing more than a trick of the light and paranoia on Rodimus' part. Clearly.