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Summary
“No, no no no,” babbles Lance, Lotor grits his teeth in an effort to stop coughing. “You need to get over here and co-pilot, your ship isn't responding to me!”
“Because you’re not commanding it to!” Lotor snarls, and he wrenches himself upright, his eyes dark and wild, hair plastered to his face with sweat. His mouth hitches, snares uneven as he sucks another heavy breath. “You-”
What pallor he has seems to drain from his features, Lotor clenches a fist, doubles over his wound.
“-can-” he manages.
Series
- Part 4 of I have loved the stars too fondly
