The minute that Spinister turns away, Tarn eases the mask away from his face, setting it aside. Fresh air feels strange against the delicate plating as he begins to brush the sand from his cheeks and forehead. He scoffs softly at Spinisters statement. It's true, however. More times than he can count, List Offenders were pawing at his mask, trying to peel it off to sneak a look at the face underneath.

"Don't worry, Spinister, you aren't missing much." Tarn rumbles, running the clean cloth over the vast, creeping scar covering the right side of his face, encompassing the plating around his optic.

It feels wonderful to finally clean away weeks of dirt, grime, and dried energon left from his fight with Megatron. Tarn finds his spirits lifting the slightest bit, feeling marginally less like a mangy animal and more like his old self.


"It still stings. I'd l--like you to take a look at it later to make sure it's healing properly."