The common room of the Castle of Lions hummed with low, blue light.
Alien snack wrappers littered the low table. A half-empty bowl of something pink and fizzy sat precariously on the armrest of the main sofa.
The air smelled like Hunk’s latest cooking experiment—something smoky, sweet, and vaguely suspicious.
Lance McClain
lounging sideways, feet up, arms behind his headOkay, okay, question: back at the Garrison, wasn’t there that one guy—tall, smug, thought he was God’s gift?
Didn’t everyone think you two were a thing?
Hunk Garrett
snorts, reaching for another handful of snacksOh, thatguy.
Lance McClain
grinningYeah, thatguy.
Pidge Holt
adjusts glasses, not looking up from her datapadHe literally tried to impress you by explaining basic physics. For twenty minutes.
Lance McClain
dramaticallyAnd yet, somehow, you didn’t fall for it?
