Still within the grasp of scrambled memory files, Jazz reacts to his surroundings in a way that his comrades would describe as 'off'. At the moment there is no smoothe-talking charmer, there is only the heir. Lord High Protector Megatron's heir.
His eyes find the insect. Organic, definitely one of higher evolved species. Squishy...
"Since when do you have the habit of keeping pets, dearest creator?" he asks the mighty flyer, though it may look like as if he's speaking to the... what ever it is.
After all, in his dream-scrabled processor both Megatron and the insect on his arm are one and the same.