Drift looks deeply conflicted -- something stirs in his spark at that admission, a surge of something he can't quite place swelling in his chest, but it's crushed under the weight of his budding guilt as the implications settle in. His optics are dim, half-shuttered, and he shakes his head, his gaze falling away.

"What I deserved? Ratchet, Rewind and Pipes are dead because of what I did. I had a hand in that. That -- " Static crackles on the edge of his vocalizer but he resets it before it sets in. "I can understand why I'd need to leave."