Drift's hand lashes out and grips Megatron's wrist, the Decepticon's fingers just mere centimeters from his chest plate. Megatron has never been one to trifle with, and even now Drift would be lying if he said that Megatron didn't intimidate him -- Drift knows that he'd only last so long in a one-on-one fight. But the idea here is not to fight. It's to defuse the situation before it gets out of hand, because with Megatron, it almost always does.
His expression flickers at that look, but he presses his mouth into a thin line. This isn't the time for relentless positivity -- this is the time to stand his ground, to stay firm, to show Megatron that he has no power over him anymore. He can't rise to the bait, however unnervingly familiar that interest might be, however much Megatron's comment about the Autobots might sting. Megatron doesn't know the truth of it -- but then, it wouldn't be much better if he did.
"If you mean you're joining the fight against Chronoblivion," Drift says, managing to keep his voice calm, "then yes, that does make us allies. But our fight and the organics' is one of the same. If any of our worlds falls, so will the rest of them."
He's playing a dangerous game here, he knows, walking a fine line between confrontation and provocation, but he knows Megatron. Any show of weakness, any chink in the armor is an opening that he can and will exploit. He really wishes this conversation were more private. He's still reeling from Megatron's appearance, his mind churning in a hectic attempt to make sense of all this. He knows he had to have been brought here for a reason -- but then Megatron must be part of that reason, too. Drift just wishes he could figure out what. Drift leans in slightly, dropping his voice. "If you really mean to help save the multiverse -- if you're really here to defend instead of conquer for once -- then I'll work with you. But understand this, Megatron: I don't work for you. Not ever again."
He release his grip on Megatron's wrist and steps back.
no subject
His expression flickers at that look, but he presses his mouth into a thin line. This isn't the time for relentless positivity -- this is the time to stand his ground, to stay firm, to show Megatron that he has no power over him anymore. He can't rise to the bait, however unnervingly familiar that interest might be, however much Megatron's comment about the Autobots might sting. Megatron doesn't know the truth of it -- but then, it wouldn't be much better if he did.
"If you mean you're joining the fight against Chronoblivion," Drift says, managing to keep his voice calm, "then yes, that does make us allies. But our fight and the organics' is one of the same. If any of our worlds falls, so will the rest of them."
He's playing a dangerous game here, he knows, walking a fine line between confrontation and provocation, but he knows Megatron. Any show of weakness, any chink in the armor is an opening that he can and will exploit. He really wishes this conversation were more private. He's still reeling from Megatron's appearance, his mind churning in a hectic attempt to make sense of all this. He knows he had to have been brought here for a reason -- but then Megatron must be part of that reason, too. Drift just wishes he could figure out what. Drift leans in slightly, dropping his voice. "If you really mean to help save the multiverse -- if you're really here to defend instead of conquer for once -- then I'll work with you. But understand this, Megatron: I don't work for you. Not ever again."
He release his grip on Megatron's wrist and steps back.