Formally, The Plan (TM) had started on Lance's fifth turn at the game, when he'd tapped and ticked his way into 9th place out of twenty on the high scoreboard, a mere 24,000 points beneath Matt's lowest score. It wasn't bad for a paladin with limited time between rounds of saving the universe to work on his thumb game. But then he'd rounded on Matt, jabbed a finger between his brows, and accused him of plugging cheat codes - right in front of Pidge's narrowed eyes.
Much can be said of Matt's little sister, but underdefensive's nowhere close to the list.
So the war began. They roped Hunk into a few rounds during evenings while Lance did double-time on the training deck, snapping his new sword forth and back. That took care of spots #13-16 and knocked Lance down to #17. In a sleepless flurry, stretched over three nights while the castle drifted into its next sector, Pidge and Matt managed to whittle Lance's hold off the board, stripe by stripe.
And yet, days after the offense, Lance's final top score still clings to the board at #19.
Asking Shiro to play's out of the question. Coran lives in a constant whiplash between hair-care routines and castle maintenance, and could never be persuaded to sit still. Slav, offendingly, played with brutal, nervy speed as soon as he was introduced to the game, and settled as incomparable champion at slots #1-3; there's no fear of conquest there.
That leaves only one target.
(To be fair: they did try the mice first.) ]
Princess! Hey!
[ Allura's a busy person. The whole castle knows it. She moves in courtesies and probably dreams of treaties; her every breath pulls in new battle strategies and exhales royal duty. This is, technically, a very irresponsible thing to ask of her - which explains why Pidge's made herself grimly scarce for this particular recruition. Avenging the Holt family's honor is important, but not so much that it can't be delegated to a useless brother.
Vaguely, Matt tries to remember where to keep his hands to look like a normal person. At his sides? Tucked behind his back as a sign of respect? Cradling his nape in a devil-may-care gesture? He's still sort of fluttering as he talks. ]
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Formally, The Plan (TM) had started on Lance's fifth turn at the game, when he'd tapped and ticked his way into 9th place out of twenty on the high scoreboard, a mere 24,000 points beneath Matt's lowest score. It wasn't bad for a paladin with limited time between rounds of saving the universe to work on his thumb game. But then he'd rounded on Matt, jabbed a finger between his brows, and accused him of plugging cheat codes - right in front of Pidge's narrowed eyes.
Much can be said of Matt's little sister, but underdefensive's nowhere close to the list.
So the war began. They roped Hunk into a few rounds during evenings while Lance did double-time on the training deck, snapping his new sword forth and back. That took care of spots #13-16 and knocked Lance down to #17. In a sleepless flurry, stretched over three nights while the castle drifted into its next sector, Pidge and Matt managed to whittle Lance's hold off the board, stripe by stripe.
And yet, days after the offense, Lance's final top score still clings to the board at #19.
Asking Shiro to play's out of the question. Coran lives in a constant whiplash between hair-care routines and castle maintenance, and could never be persuaded to sit still. Slav, offendingly, played with brutal, nervy speed as soon as he was introduced to the game, and settled as incomparable champion at slots #1-3; there's no fear of conquest there.
That leaves only one target.
(To be fair: they did try the mice first.) ]
Princess! Hey!
[ Allura's a busy person. The whole castle knows it. She moves in courtesies and probably dreams of treaties; her every breath pulls in new battle strategies and exhales royal duty. This is, technically, a very irresponsible thing to ask of her - which explains why Pidge's made herself grimly scarce for this particular recruition. Avenging the Holt family's honor is important, but not so much that it can't be delegated to a useless brother.
Vaguely, Matt tries to remember where to keep his hands to look like a normal person. At his sides? Tucked behind his back as a sign of respect? Cradling his nape in a devil-may-care gesture? He's still sort of fluttering as he talks. ]
Are you busy today?