Drift doesn’t say anything to that — what can he say? Yes, they meant a lot to him. They meant something. They weren’t just old friends, they were a symbol. A symbol of what he could become, what he could aspire to. Now there are so few left of them.

“I don’t remember, no,” he finally says after a few moments of silence. He rubs his forehead. “I could use a refuel, though.”