Tarn squawks indignantly as Spinister roots around even more aggressively. Its a struggle not to clamp down again on the invading fingers, but he manages to keep himself under control. His optics are wide with shock as Spinister slings a leg over his shoulder and begins yanking snd twisting whatever is lodged in there.

Finally, he feels it slide loose and breathes an audible sigh of relief. Tarn turns to look up the culprit. Shrapnel?

“I…I’m not entirely sure."

How long had that been in there? He tries to recall an instance that would have led to a shard of that size striking him. The only thing he can think of is perhaps his fight with Megatron. Senior.

Months ago.

Tarn holds hand out in a silent bid to inspect the shard of shrapnel