You shut up. [Ratchet rounds on Sixshot, looking furious, optics bright.] Don't you sit there behind your stupid gun and tell me how dangerous Tarn is, I limped here on crutches! And this whole brainless mess might have been avoided if you'd actually sat down and had a conversation like an adult, I don't want to hear it from you. I don't give a half-cup of the dry, barren sand covering most of the planet whether Tarn lives or dies and if he went into spark failure right here in the dirt I wouldn't lift a single finger to prevent it.

[He turns back to Megatron, looking at him hard, reading the miserable hesitation in his face.]

But I do care whether or not you kill someone here today. Helex is a lost cause and anybody else who wants to follow Tarn anywhere is a sadist, a bully, or an idiot, and we'll deal with them if they crop up--but you aren't that person anymore. You promised me you wouldn't be that person, and you still have a choice. [His lips thin and he shifts both crutches under one arm to reach out impatiently for the sword, palm flat and demanding.]

Give me that. [His expression shifts, just slightly, almost softening despite himself.] Don't make me slap it out of your hand again, I'm pretty sure that trick would only work the once.