Dirge watches Tarn push away the Pet with obvious glee, glad to have won that little bid for the six-phaser's attentions. It was very different from working for a Megatron, he was finding out, and it was difficult to guess what kind of behavior or skills Tarn wanted from his minions.

The clone's optic brighten at the mention of sparkeaters, his wings perking up in interest. That explained the mess then...

"The spark. Wait...you'll- you'll let me have it?" The whirr of Dirge's internal fans kicking on is loud and awkward in the sudden silence. Megatron had never let him have a spark. Oh, he'd promised him one at some distant time as long as he was loyal and good and...

...and here Tarn was. Offering him one out of the blue. It was a small one and it didn't belong to another Transformer, which meant he couldn't try having it installed in himself. Again. Not that it had gone well the first time.

But there was a bright side to it being too small to use. That meant it was perfect for eating. Dirge's grin is huge and heinously delighted.