If the words sting at all, the last remark nullifies their effects. Drift’s optics blaze back at Ratchet and his voice hardens almost immediately. “Well. I’m sorry that I ‘disappointed’ you. But we both know it doesn’t really matter what I try, does it? Because nothing’s ever going to be good enough for you.”

Without turning his gaze away, Drift slides the tray onto a nearby countertop – his body tensing instinctively as he leans forward in an almost threatening manner.

“You’re acting like everything I did was so cut and dry. I’m not used to having people that I care about like them. I’m not used to having people who care about me. I had the ‘good fortune’ of getting caught in the middle of the only two people who even give a damn about me…and I made my choices.

I’m not going to stand here and try to justify myself to you, or act like I haven’t screwed up at all. I know I screwed up. I hate that I let Arcee down and I hate that I put Rodimus in danger. If Arcee wanted to cut ties with me completely, I wouldn’t blame her. And even if she does, I won’t care about her any less than I do now.

So if you want to ream me out, go ahead…whether you think I’m a disappointment or not doesn’t matter. Because when you get down to it, they’re the ones that I have to face and they’re the ones who get to decide if I’m their friend.”