Ratchet snorts, jerking his chin down at Drift as he settles in again so he can keep working, ignoring the ache starting to settle under his arms.

"What do you think? Tarn came by looking for a t-cog and someone to install it and I told him to shove it up his tailpipe. He didn't like that too much." He keeps his optics on Drift's limp, prone form, hands curling carefully around Drift's ruined wrist. "I got off light, seems like."