"I'm fine," Drift says, in the universal language of people who are most definitely not fine. He generally doesn't do things to excess, not anymore, but tonight somehow he'd just...lost track of time, and finally noticing just how many empty canisters there are makes him cringe inwardly, shame burning in the back of his throat. This isn't how he's supposed to be dealing with things. He's supposed to be making a difference -- except he hasn't had much of a chance of that since he got here, too much sitting around waiting, and with nothing to do, what is he supposed to use to distract himself away from crushing existential misery? Hahahaha

At least he isn't indulging on a level to rival Trailcutter, but then again, that's not really a high bar. Drift doesn't reach after Megatron or try to make a grab for the canister, just withdraws his hand and curls his fingers inward.

"What are you doing here?"