He'd been accused of being melodramatic many times in his life. Starscream never really minded, since he could see it, and he couldn't really associate it with an insult. It was something to be proud of— Not everyone was melodramatic.

His body moved in spite of how heavy his spark felt, as the Decepticon flew, the air feeling too cold and sticky, adhering somehow to his fingers, and his wings, and everything of him, making feel cold.

Cold.

"Stupid, stupid!"

The seeker breathed nonsense, avoiding your blasts with acrobatics.

"Cruel—"

That is, until something perforated his jetwing, and he was forced down onto a painful crash, that made him see stars (in a really bad and painful way).

His spark throbbed.

"You're going to kill me? Is that it?"

He stared at you, an Autobot.

His spark was going so fast, and yet, he still had that internal need to snarl and yell at you.

Because, as a melodramatic man, he was doomed to perish with sweet painful words in his mouth.