"You look like you could use a friend," Drifter says with a smirk.
"Back from the grave with almighty powers, just to wind up in this stuffy place, salutin' Commander Stick-Up-His-Butt. Sounds like a bad beat."
A coin appears in Drifter's hand; he casually rolls it across his knuckles.
"I could use a friend, too, you know, and what you need to understand is old Drifter always takes care of his friends." His smile stretches ear to ear.
"Heard you tore the Hive up good back in Old Russia. Tell you what, since you like tusslin' with Knights, you can have this Sword. No charge, of course, for a friend."
"Just swing back when you're tired of being Zavala's errand runner, and we'll talk business."