Tarn distantly hears a voice calling as he lays on the berth deeply in shock with his hand covering the bare patch of plating on his chest. He doesn't respond, instead choosing to close his eyes and turn his face away from the noise of approaching footsteps.

He hopes whoever it is will leave him to his own dark thoughts. He isn't particularly in the mood for entertaining anyone. Especially someone with a voice that he doesn't recognize immediately. With the shame of having his faction stripped away so very fresh he isn't sure that he can think of anyone who's company he could handle at the moment. Not even a member of his own lost team. Unfortunately for him, Megatron had left the door to his hab suite open.