Tarn huffs a theatrical sigh of disappointment, dimming his optics very so slightly.

"Ah, yes. Unfortunately, I cannot do that. I am a Decepticon. I am doing what I was meant to do. The Autobots, they have softened you; made you into a sad, weak, fool. You no longer speak for the Decepticon cause and I will not take orders from you." Tarn is a mere stone throw away at this point. Close enough that he can make out some of he small dings and scratches on Megatron's frame.

"You have grown far too weary." His voice caresses dangerously against Megatrons spark. It feels so viscerally wrong. This should not be happening. Megatron should be on his side. But he must push the feeling aside. For the sake of his fellow Decepticons. Those who Megatron betrayed. Now is not the time to be having second thoughts. It's too late for that.