Tarn glares fiercely, crossing his arms across his chest.

“What do you want?” He manages to slowly croke out. Loathe as he is to admit it, Rampage is right. He has nothing but his own tattered pride to keep himself afloat.

He stays a safe distance away, not foolish enough to get into the mech’s personal space. He isn’t sure how this will play out. Wounded, and weaponless, and voiceless against a mech who he couldn’t damage even with his strongest weapon; against Rampage who seems to be making good on his word on hunting him down to settle their unfinished business.

He tries to sigh, steeling himself for the worse and tensing in anticipation of an attack.