It's a little clumsy, the way Drift spreads his oiled hands on Wing's flightpanels, groping blind, but it's done with zeal and tenderness and he hopes that makes up for any technical flaws in execution.

"We have to find out, one way or another. If they knew, if they didn't. It matters." He knows Wing adores Vector, and he hates his own suspicion and distance from his own FirstForged, but he can't help it. Their survival--Wing's survival--is at stake. He'd make an enemy of the universe if it threatened Wing.

The hands slow on the flightpanels, even as his EM field registers the thrill of touching them, and he pulls Wing against him, nuzzling against the audial flares. "Yes. As long as you want."