Drift knows Wing well enough to notice the restlessness. And he can't help but compare the moment to the battle outside Crystal City also, but he's contrasting how calm Wing had been then, serene and settled, with this.

His brow furrows under his helm, he crosses over to the jet, giving what he hopes is a sort of comforting touch on the seated jet's knee.

"Ready?" It's a deeper question than that, but he doesn't want to force things. He's done too much of that already.