It bothers Drift in a bad way that Megatron's succeeded so easily in throwing him off center. If this had been their own world, if that shopping area had been filled with Cybertronians instead of unfamiliar organics, Megatron wouldn't have succeeded in shaking his cool just by calling him by an old name and digging up the dead past. Every Autobot already knows who Drift is and who Deadlock was, what he'd done, and he'd accepted it. There was no shock value left in it. But here, where people didn't know, where none of Drift's first impressions were prefaced with the high probability that he'd probably killed a friend of theirs at one point, it's different. Drift thought he could start fresh here, but he ought to have known -- the past always catches up with you. If people here must know, then so be it -- but that isn't how he wants them to find out.

That does get another reaction out of him, a sharp look up at Megatron, and Drift is painfully aware of it. He narrows his optics. "You've been to my house?"

It's kind of a pathetic excuse for house, but it's still his, a last bastion of privacy, and apparently Megatron's already been poking around.