[Ratchet switches the feed on, his face still and his optics cold.]

You killed me. Accident or not, I was trying to help you, and your actions caused my death. I felt the broken glass cut its way into my spark. I felt my spark guttering out. Several people--my friends--were hurt while I was out of commission and I couldn't do anything about it. More people could have died because I wasn't there to help them. If anyone has the right to hate you about this, Starscream, it's me.

[His voice is sharp-edged and intent as he leans into the feed... then sits up after a second, looking pensive now.]

But I don't. And you apologized, and I told you that I forgive you, and that's the end of it. If anybody else has a problem with that, they can take it up with me, so spill it. [He jerks his chin.] Who figured it out?