Chapter Text
"Come on Pidge, lemme see!"
Lance attempted to grab the- what was it? It looked like Pidge's own little bayard, but a little bigger with red instead of green. He tried again to grab the "bayard" that Pidge had been tinkering with a moment earlier, but failed when Pidge side-stepped him at the last tick.
"Aw, Pidge, come on, lemme see what the cute little thing-a-mah-gig does, please?" Lance put on his best puppy dog face and proceeded to stare at her for a good five seconds. Pidge's only reaction was to roll her eyes and continue talking.
"No. I was attempting to take apart my bayard the other day and I happened to notice that while my weapon had a zip line, the rest of the bayards for the paladins only have offensive uses. And while it is fun to grab all the food nozzles in the kitchen, tape them to the ceiling, and have Hunk beg me to get them down, all five of the paladins having a transportation device like mine could potentially come in handy."
Now it was Lance's turn to roll his eyes. "So to dumb it down, you're making a zippy thing-a-mah-gig for all of us?" Pidgin nodded in agreement. "Basically."
"So why can't I try it?" Lance whined endearingly.
"If you're making a zippy for all of the paladins, why can't I try out one of them?"
"Good question. First off, I only have one of these things right now, so if Someone"
She pointedly looked Lance in the eye.
"If Someone were to break it, I would have to start all the way from scratch. Secondly, this one," Pidge held up the bayard. "Isn't for you. It's for Keith, to be more specific. The hand hold is for his hand, so your hand, on the odds of 4 to 1, wouldn't fit, and you'd end up breaking the handle, and, again, I would have to start from scratch." Pidge saw Lance's disappointed look and started talking again. "I'll have the blueprint for your zippy done in a few minutes. Would you go get Keith from the training arena? He was supposed to meet me here at 4 so we could go over the final touches." She shrugged. "Must have forgotten."
Lance played at being skeptical, twirling an imaginary mustache on his upper lip.
"Heh. Dunno, Pidge. I'll need a bit more of an endorsement than that."
It only took Pidge a spilt-second to think of a reward to keep Lance's attention.
"I'll let you help me go over a few things with the blueprint. Do we have a deal?"
"DEAL!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~•••~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Call off simulation." Keith walked out of the training arena and began to walk over the his room.
Once safely in his room, he checked the clock on the wall. Quarter-past five. Good. Keith didn't like anyone interrupting him, and since five in the afternoon meant everyone was in the cafeteria for a snack or fiddling with things, it left him quite alone for the next hour or so. He reached under his bed and pulled out a jackknife, and proceeded to take out the blade. Keith sat down against the wall and lifted up his shirt to reveal lines and bruises all across his belly. The only thing that they had in common was that they all looked in various stages of healing.
Suddenly he felt queasy. Looking at the full extent of what he was about to do began to sicken him.
"What's wrong with you?!" He whispered angrily. "If you're too much of a coward to do this now, you should have done it sooner!" Soon rage made him blind with tears. God, he knew he was stalling, prolonging his miserable existence, but why? What did he have to live for?
Without warning, a face appeared in Keith's mind. Before he could process who it was, it disappeared.
Just as unexpectedly, Lance appeared in the doorway.
"KEEEEEIIITTH PIDGE IS LOOKING FOR YOUR SORRY ASS SO GO TO HER LAB COME O-"
And then, nothing.