Optics wide, he leans in, listening with rapt attention.

"Hmm. I wonder how that even works. Possibly some kind of psychic-refraction or-" Drift stops himself. He can form theories later. So many wrong, wacky theories.

"I... ah. Hm. I suppose you're right. Making friends is a tick. And getting back would be a big tick." He counts it off on his fingers.

Though to be honest, Drift doesn't have many friends. In fact he maybe has one. Well, three actually, but the dead ones don't count, really. He's not exactly popular, even with his own species. Having been a Decepticon will do that, though.