"Hell. Kid, calm down, you're all right--"

Ratchet is across the room when he hears Drift stir, earlier than anticipated--earlier than Ratchet would have really liked, honestly. He moves to Drift's bedside as quickly as he can, hand settling on Drift's chest as he leans over him, optics aching and intent.

"You're safe. Drift. Relax. ...I've got you."