[ Why was a good question — likely the only question. Drift has to mentally double back and hurriedly catalog the last several months and string together an answer. Simple questions were often the most loaded with single-barrel precision.

Drift doesn't slouch, but he does bend down in a half-bow. Eyes turned a slate grey-blue and fixed on the Darkling's face. Thinking back on their last conversation. The speculative idea of Cybertronians with warframes like Drift against Ravkans and the etherealki suddenly had more bite to them when not passed over the rim of a glass of whiskey. (What would you do? To save your world?) ]

Because you've already said enough that I know what you're feeling, [ You're not the only old killer who has lived too long, he wants to say. ] And that you're wrong — we're not here with clean slates, this is a ferry where the fee is regret and no one rides for free.

And because if you've held it together this long you can do it for a little while longer. [ Drift cants his head and stares pointedly, almost asking the Darkling if he wants to lash out and rupture the hull separating them from the vacuum of space — where dark truly was dark. ]