With no one to object, Drift assumes -- for now -- that this...is it an armored human? Another inorganic species? Whatever it is, Drift doesn't have any reason to suspect he is heavily embellishing.

With surprising care, Drift shakes Grif's little hand. Mostly with his thumb and forefinger. He's being polite. "Nice to meet you, Grif. Have any wisdom to share with the new guy?"