[The look on his face tugs at Wing's spark. Drift. He couldn't even put into words what Drift meant to him. ] I'll be right there.

[He's not that far away: only over at that sector where he'd dragged the dinosaur carcasses. He races over, as fast as his propulsion nacelles could carry him, landing lightly on his feet by the ship, letting momentum carry him forward to where Drift was. He stops, hands outstretched, wanting to touch, but almost afraid.]

....Drift. [He just wants to say the name forever.]