The clang of Drift's reaction reverberates in the air with a short, metallic ring. Bold indeed. But he is hardly dissuaded. If anything, Drift's impudence brings vivid interest to Megatron's eyes. An interest Drift may find rather familiar, long ago when Cybertron was still a living world. He closes the distance between them further, looming forward, daring Drift to follow up on his unsaid threat to escalate their little game.

"There are more prudent problems that take precedence over the existence of organics of this universe," he says calmly,"We will be working together again far sooner than you think."

"Though I am curious why you're so reluctant," a hand moves forward to gesture at the scratched armor,"when the Autobots have already chosen to toss you to the wayside."

Should Drift allow it, he will go so far as to brush it with newly forged coal-colored claws with a brief, metallic shriek.