"Well small victories at least." Tarn mutters under his breath, reaching for the locked box of wipes. Seriously, who locks cleansing wipes.

Upon lifting the box, Tarn feels a strange rolling inside, followed by a dull 'clang'. Well now, that certainly is fascinating. He brings the box up to his audiol, tilting it gently once more and feeling the contents roll once more. Tarn's tanks bottom out as a sudden glorious inkling takes over.

Setting the box on a nearby table he begins fiddling with the lock, frantically trying to get it open. After a few minutes of trying to tease the lock open he loses patience and simply smashes the mechanism off. Fingers shaking slightly as his anticipation builds up he desperately hopes he wont be disappointed as he pries open the box.

And there it is. The most beautiful sight Tarn has seen in weeks. Gently lifting the transformation cog out of the box, he turns it, inspecting it from every angle. Some superficial damage to one of the ports, probably from being jostled around so much in the box, but nothing irreparable. He is caught between anger of the fact that the scientist shot Megatron, and incandescent joy that his transformation addiction lives to see another cog.

"Spinister... I'm not sure whether to punch you or hug you right now. Give me a moment, if you will."