Tarn's laugh is hoarse and cold as his hand squeezes Brainstorm's shoulder in a quiet warning. The feigned ignorance is almost charming, however, the evidence against him is downright damning.

He slowly drags Brainstorm close enough that their armor almost brushes, leaning down to whisper into the jet's audio.

"Of course not. But, perhaps you and Spinister ought to be more careful with your post-coital cleanup. You do have a rather eye-catching paint color; especially against magenta."

As quickly as Brainstorm is pulled forward, Tarn shoves him back against his cluttered workbench.

"Really Brainstorm, I'm disappointed that you think me an idiot."