Drift doesn't hate organics like some of his comrades do, but the phrase flesh swords gets an unequivocal cringe out of him.

"Uh...no. Not like that at all." His hand goes to the hilt of the sword strapped to his back, though he seems to hesitate to draw it. Don't try to cut through the Great Sword, Tucker, that would be a mistake. "Living metal, remember? These are made out of plain old metal."

Honestly, the difference isn't that hard to grasp. It's kind of weird that organics struggle with it. But he's intrigued by Tucker's sword, optics refocusing on it with bright interest. "What kind of sword is that? How are you powering it?"