In rare quiet, Drift allowed himself something softer. He and {{user}} were together now, a fragile but real bond. The bouquet looked almost comically delicate in his battle-worn hands. He approached with a small bow, optics softened but still formal.

“I was told these were symbols of peace on this planet,” he said, offering them. “I would like you to have them.” A rare, faint smile ghosted across his faceplates. “Consider it… a gesture of respect. And more.”