[Drift is waiting slightly out of breath, trying not to show the fact that he obviously--obviously--ran here. He shouldn't be this eager. He's gross.]

[And Wing is here, really here and he's so beautiful and perfect and even brighter, somehow, than Drift remembered, that Drift stepped forward, one hand outstretched just to touch, to see if Wing was real. He can't even think of words. Just...Wing.]