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Summary
Lance had clawed his way through the Galra military ranks. This was the most important day of his entire existence. He was being assigned to a commander. One of the most ruthless commanders in the Empire. He had to make a good impression.
It would be just his luck that he'd be stricken with the beginnings of a ruthless heat. He knew the suppressants made him sick, but he took them anyway. Anything was better than a fucking stupid heat. He couldn't very well look strong with his heat boring down on his shoulders.
But puking at the feet of your new commander doesn't exactly make you look like a model Galra either...hindsight Lance supposes.