Until now Perceptor had avoided the badlands. The warnings of the Acolytes and Firstforged had been enough to keep him from acting on any curiosity, and until now he had lacked any excuse to inspect them himself. Now he was going to assist an friend. A noble excuse if there ever was one, and an opportunity to help Drift.

He still, on a certain level, felt indebted to the other mech for saving his life all that time ago, needed to feel useful. He probably always would. This was just another chance to work on repaying that one great favor, and on a much more selfish note it was a way to spent more time with Drift in this strange place.

Perceptor rolled up to the bridge, trying to look like he hadn't been hurrying (and likely failing), pulling up beside the other mech.

"Drift. Are you ready to go?"