Maybe if he scowled, he'd be more familiar? But now that the threat is gone, he turns to face the other, full on, his gold optics tilting as he studies the earnest face before him.

But it hasn't been that long for Wing--only a few cycles ago, he'd stood near Drift, ready to face the slavers, ready to give his life for the other's freedom. But the voice, and the finials, and the face....

"...Drift?"