[ open post: drift ]

[auramatic]

the dorito returns
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[asafepairofhands]

Ratchet's shoulders tighten, his optics dim, but he keeps them on Drift's face. He owes Drift that, he knows. He gives Drift the numbers, lets him know how many went to join Thunderclash or set out on their own.

As for Dai Atlas... "Star Saber killed him. Cyclonus took out his optic, but he got away before they could take him out. I think I was still in Pharma's lab, at the time. He--" Ratchet blows a shivery gust of air from his vents.

"Ambulon is dead too. Pharma killed him--he had these stupid new chainsaw hands and he cut him in half lengthwise and left him for me to 'fix.' First Aid was there too, but he made it. He killed Pharma, a little later, so that's... that's one less thing to worry about." Emotion flickers on his face and he cycles his vents roughly.

"A lot of other stuff's happened too, but you don't have to hear it all at once, understand? It's... a lot. We can space it out."

[auramatic]

What else, Drift almost says, but no — he’s still processing this, and he sits back in his chair, his optics going distant. He’s reeling and trying not to show it, but it’s been a long damned day and he can’t quite stop himself from putting the heel of his hand to his forehead. So many dead — so few of them left, and without Dai Atlas...

“Star Saber,” Drift mutters, but it almost sounds more like a snarl, disgust seeping into his voice. Drift’s one to talk about turning traitor, he knows — but he’d turned away from senseless killing, not toward it. His hands tighten almost painfully around his sword hilts, as though that’s all that’s keeping him grounded right now. Finally, he looks back at Ratchet.

“I’m sorry about Ambulon,” he says quietly.

[asafepairofhands]

"Me too," Ratchet says quietly. "I'm sorry about Dai Atlas, and the Circle of Light. I know they meant a lot to you."

He subsides for a moment, cycling his vents and letting his optics dim.

"Do you need fuel?" he finally asks, looking over at Drift again. "I should do a systems check, too, just to make sure. Unless you remember when your last maintenance was."

[auramatic]

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.”

[asafepairofhands]

Ratchet pushes up from his station chair and rests a hand briefly on Drift's shoulder, squeezing as he moves past to go fill two glasses and bring them back, handing one to Drift and standing next to his own chair, leaning his hip against it.

"Anything else, kid?"

[auramatic]

Drift takes a slow drink, and admittedly it's been a while since he drank anything actually good, because decent energon is hard to come by around these parts. He shutters his optics for a moment while he nurses the glass, quiet and still, but then he sets it down on the dashboard with a clink and sits back in his station chair.

"What else has happened since I left?"