Drift feels his spark contract in his chest when Ratchet looks at him like that. He's not sure he can ever recall Ratchet looking at him quite like that. Drift doesn't quite manage a smile, but he looks a little less weary at least, his optics brightening with a warmer light.

"You're going to have to catch me up on all that sometime," Drift says, spreading his hands a little helplessly. "This is all a little...it's different."

Weird. It's weird. He means weird, Ratchet.