"Interesting proposition," Ratchet says, his face unreadable as he appears to mull this over for a moment. "As much as I do like the idea of you owing me a favor..."

He stops and turns towards Tarn, facing him squarely and looking up into his face, all trace of humor drained from his expression. It's a rare moment of honesty but he holds it deliberately, tipping his jaw up to meet Tarn's gaze.

"Every single other reason I hate you aside, can you stand there and tell me, in absolute honesty, that if our situations were reversed and you knew something that might keep me alive that you wouldn't withhold it? I'm perfectly comfortable here--I happen to like humans, I don't need them to understand me, and I can take care of myself just fine. You, effectively, have nothing to offer me. So tell me--would you help me in the same situation? Go out of your way to help keep me alive out of some Cybertronian fellow-feeling?" His eyes are chips of pale blue ice.

"Or would you laugh in my face and leave me to starve or get sick or freeze to death in the snow, just because you could?"