Drift tries to follow the line of Wing's optics, the reach of that unsteady hand, turning to look behind him, and seeing only wall before he finally makes the connection.

Oh.

Him.

He nearly leaps forward, taking twitching hand in both of his, as though he could push strength and life into Wing's body through contact.

"I...we...you." Good job, Drift, with the pronouns. He shakes his head, trying again. He wants to ask, to know everything, but not all at once. "I missed you." Finally.