#redhearth

⌨ - time-wasting habits

Hunk keep himself busy with pretty much anything that catches his interest for the moment. I mean he went through Pidge’s stuff for candy and not only read their diary but also figured out that braun-hoffer line and drew it out on some paper. 

He experiments in the kitchen a lot. Cooking with new ingredients that they pick up on planets they come across. That takes up some of his time. Discerning what is edible and what is not. Trying to figure out how to cook what he get’s his hands on. 

     “You think the lions can hear us?” 

    The hangar is empty of organic life beside the two of them, the others probably gone off to bed. The ʀᴇᴅ mechanical feline towers over them; The view is surreal, like looking up at a skyscraper and yet still contained within the walls and ceiling of the castle. He meets its eyes with his own before looking to Keith. He should have expected him here —- or the training room, of course.

This weird concoction, chopped up tentacles and other indistinguishable bits floating in its broth, was questionable at best, but Coran had offered nothing else. Apparently it was an old Altean remedy, one chock-full of medicinal properties or whatever. It was almost archaic in a place derived from science and technology, but considering their weakened battleship crystal and an energy-gobbling particle barrier to keep in place, they couldn’t exactly throw Lance and his battered self into a healing pod and call it a day, not when safety took priority over a few wounds.

But why was he stuck being at Lance’s—of all people—beck and call? Oh, yeah, because it was his fault Lance was hurt in the first place. One minor mishap in the heat of battle and Keith was stuck with the worst chore ever conceived. Great.

He let himself into the blue paladin’s room unannounced and less than graciously plopped the food tray down on the table they’d brought in earlier. A kit stocked with gauze, medical tape and some funky-smelling ointment that burned his nose every time he opened its container sat open beside the tray. Keith crossed his arms.

“Here. Your lunch.”

   Lance had been sleeping, for the most part. After being efficiently patched up and left to his own devices and he was out in a matter of seconds, clearly NEEDING the rest, even if he, in his awake state, would have probably protested against it. His body thought otherwise. Thanks to a certain paladin, that was. Had Keith kept his head in the game until the END and Lance wouldn’t have been in this mess, but alas, it wasn’t the first, nor would it be the last time he would have to go through something like it. It certainly wasn’t the WORST that could happen.

   Luckily enough Keith got what was coming for him, the fact that he now had to take CARE of Lance as some sort of punishment or whatever the tip of the iceberg and damn if he wasn’t going to make the most of it. As far as this went, Lance ought to have been the WORST patient one could imagine. And just because this had been Keith, he decided to be twice as obnoxious, seeing how far he could push it, before the other paladin had enough, really.

   Wincing as he sat up, the blue paladin rubbed at his eyes, eyebrows perking up at the broth that was deposited onto the table, looking less than eatable and smelling even WORSE. “Uh, dude       are you trying to help me or are you trying to kill me, because that looks disgusting.” Lance scrunched up his nose, sitting himself up more and wincing again, the injuries he’d managed to sustain not doing him any favors, before he would fold his arms.