[Drift might not know what to do, but Wing does, letting his hand be caught for a klik, lingering in Drift's for as long as he can. Because such gestures should never be made to feel like they were unwelcome.]

I'd like that. [For more reasons than he can say. He'd resigned himself to dying here, alone, as long as it was in defense of others, but now...there's a glimmer of something like hope. It's strange--it's like their situations were reversed now. ]

Speeches? On what? [It's a side he hadn't seen much of--only the once and in the Circle's chamber, Drift had been more earnest than articulate.]

I'd love to meet this Rodimus. He seems to mean a great deal to you.