Leaning back, The rough lines of tension in Tarn's features begin to smooth.

"I see. That's where you've earned my respect York. I find that a sense of honor is important in any creature-- organic or otherwise."

Tarn's hands twitch as he rests them in his lap. The inability to transform gnaws at his nerves, making his body feel raw and over sensitive.

"I am not a senseless, unreasonable person. I have a job, you see. An important job that I am very good at, but only due to the extent at which I was trained and conditioned. I have devoted my life to the Decepticon Cause and upholding its ideals. Yes, I kill Autobots, and yes I hunt traitors, but we are at war. If news of the work that my team and I do reaches the ear of even one reluctant soldier and terrifies him into staying course it will all be worth it."

The way Tarn talks is clinical and very matter-of-fact. It's clear that he doesn't think himself to be the psychopath that Ratchet has painted him as. Hes certain that what he does is nothing sort of necessary.

"Think of it as a sort of performance management-- essential to the success of any cause."