It's nice just having him close. Wing has a flash of the same temptation, drawn to the other mech as he always is, but first things first. With a good grip on Drift he hauls himself up, gingerly swinging both legs over the edge of the med berth with effort. Yeah, that's not the healthiest sound his moving parts just made. Maybe sitting up was a little premature but it's worth it. He huffs past another groan, just leaning on Drift.

"I...don't think his frame was his anymore." The distaste is clear in Wing's voice. "I don't know if it was the datapad or not. The ones in the cave...didn't react to me until I was well into the second cavern. I barely managed to get out again." He shivers at the all-to-vivid memory.

"Ghost or zombie regardless though... what I want to know is...where is his spark?" Wing looks up into Drift's optics then, his own darkened by trepidation, the sinking thought that maybe it wasn't just death that he'd narrowly missed.