Ratchet looks up at Naru with an expression that seems to imply patience in the face of tremendous stupidity even through the pleasant fog of fast-penta.

"Megatron," he says again a little more slowly, "tried to annex Manhattan the last time we were anywhere near humans. We aren't exactly popular. And anyway, extensive, complex, technologically advanced medical facilities attached to military bases make me nervous if I'm not the one running them." His tone is still pleasant and drowsy, but there's a flicker of fear in his weird, too-vivid eyes. "I don't know what happened to me to make me like this and I don't really want to be vivisected to find out if any of your people decided they were curious enough to try it. I don't even know if you're the ones who brought me here or not."

A small part of him, tucked far away, wants to be angry but mostly he just sounds weary, even through the fast-penta. He looks up at Naru again, the corners of his mouth tightening.

"I had to lie to York," he says, pressing his head to the back of his chair, his hands shifting restlessly against the arms. "I hated it, and now it doesn't even matter."